Peacemaker

Entirely civil question, entirely reasonable question.

“In this, I speak for the aiji, nandi. As for my own opinion, for what it matters, despite our differences, I deeply respect your leadership of the Cismontane, which has never acted except in reasonable protection of its natural interests. And, may I say, on the aiji’s behalf, you never accepted Murini as aiji, either.”

“We have not that enthusiastically accepted the aijinate,” Topari muttered, blunt truth, and certainly not to the man’s benefit. He was forthcoming with his opinions, one could say that. As to discretion—one was less sure.

“It is, alas, the old conflict,” Bren said, “the old division between north and south, the guilds and the principle of out-clan assignment.” One was very definitely conscious of the non-Guild status of Topari’s two bodyguards, standing over to the right, opposite Jago and Algini. “But then, the aiji’s maternal clan has only this month made peace with the Atageini after two hundred years of warfare—so the aiji does understand districts that, for some local reason, prefer local security and wish to settle their problems in their own way. Dissent from his administration will never be silenced. Likewise we have been assured that Assassins’ Guild will make a fair investigation. That guild’s former leadership, set aside by Murini, has returned, which is also not yet general knowledge, and you may now have at least as much confidence as you had in the Assassins’ Guild prior to the coup.” He shifted his hands to his knees, signifying an end to the interview. “I thank you for coming, nandi. You have been very courteous. And I shall not urge you to regard anything but what you have seen, which is the same as what others will see within a few hours. I know you have extreme reservations about me and my office, but you have met me courteously in the past and I hoped we could talk. You and I are bound to meet again in this Marid railroad affair—and I am encouraged to hope we can talk, then, too, and do so productively.”

“When you will represent the dowager?”

“She has her views. I shall represent them at her request. But likewise if you have any message for her, I shall certainly carry it. Or to the aiji, either one.”

“Then tell the aiji-dowager that the Cismontane is not pleased with her cursed self-serving agreement. The legislature never appointed her aiji, not in two tries!”

It was worth a diplomatic smile, a diplomatic nod. “I shall not remind her of that, nandi, but if you have observations on the railroad matter, I should be honored to represent you to her and her to you. That is my office.”

Lengthy silence, this time. Then a gravelly: “I shall consider it.” With which, Topari gave a parting style of bow. “Nandi.”

“Nandi.” Bren gave back the same, and Topari gathered his bodyguard and left . . . with Jago both opening the way for them, and escorting them out, because otherwise Topari and his guards could not get downstairs through the lift system . . . and that would tip the situation toward war.

Did we win or lose? Bren wondered, hearing the outer door open and shut. Did I accomplish anything—or open up a worse problem?

The adrenaline and the strength quite ebbed out of him with that thought, and the headache was—had been for several minutes, perhaps, ever since the lights had come back on—back in force. He thought about going to his bedroom, but the adrenaline of the interview wasn’t going to leave him alone. He sank down in the nearest chair, light-headed. “Tea,” he said. “The strong tea, nadiin-ji.”

Servants moved, quickly. Hot water and tea met over at the buffet. He could smell it. His senses felt sandpapered raw, at the same time the room seemed a little blurry.

“You are quite pale, Bren-ji,” Algini said.

“Tea will help. How did that go, Gini-ji? I have no good reading of him.”

“He is a suspicious man,” Algini said, “and verbally reckless. He went further than he expected to go. He was affected by what he saw—I was watching him. He saw your justification, and that, conversely, upset his resolve. He will likely try to reconstruct later how the railroad became involved in the discussion. But that mention has him thinking and wondering if it is a proposed trade. Now he will very likely want to test what you said and be sure he is not being led astray. He is a pessimist by reputation, never ready to assume he is being offered anything good. You have, one believes, made some headway with him.”

“I felt I was bouncing words off a stone wall. But his district has legitimate concerns. I shall see if the dowager can be persuaded about his railroad.”

“Dare you ever have the aiji-dowager and this man in one room?” Algini asked.

He opened his eyes and smiled—only slightly, because it hurt. Algini’s humor was rare, and occasionally irreverent. “I think we should confine that exchange to letters,” he said, and then had a clear thought. “Cenedi might be the logical point of approach.”

“Cenedi would, indeed,” Algini said wryly, “vote to keep those two apart.”

The servant came, with the tea, which was not yet settled in the cup. He sipped it anyway, and found the dark brew a good taste. He heard a door open, down the main hall, heard footsteps not of the household, and knew it was Jase before Jase appeared cautiously at the door.

“Come in,” he said. “Sit. Our visitor has left.”

“So how did it go?” Jase asked.

“Not so bad, perhaps. Hard to say. —The teacakes are still available, are they not, nadiin-ji?” This to the servants standing by.

“Yes, nandi.” One servant was preparing tea for Jase. Another hastened to offer teacakes. Bren declined. Jase didn’t, but waited for his tea.

“The man’s suspicious,” Bren said, “no fool, which is usually good. We’ll see if he finds a way to make trouble or if I offered him enough to intrigue him.”

“Are you all right? You’re pale.”

“Just a little short of breath. It’ll pass.”

“You should be in bed.”

“I’m considering it. But strong tea helps.” He drew a deep breath. “And some things can’t wait. If Topari decides not to raise a legislative fuss over Lord Aseida’s fate, I’ve saved myself at least a week of work.”

“At some cost. Bren, you ought to be in bed.”

“I will. Soon.” He wondered whether his queasy stomach could possibly stand food. Teacake—no, he decided. Nothing of that flavor. Sweet was not sitting well on his stomach. “The Guild knows now exactly what we were dealing with it—and in the way of things, that information will go quietly to every house that has Guild protection, as to what happened, and what the truth was. We won’t have to hold a showing for each and every one of them, I hope. Nasty moment, that.”

Guild would be sending messages out. A lot of them.

The whole political landscape was under repair and revision—a vast improvement over the situation they’d had since they’d come back to the planet.

Damn, it was.

“Sandwich, I think,” he said to Jase. “Then I’m just going to sit in a chair and relax for a while. I think I’ll do that.”

16

Jase-aiji had come to call—Cajeiri had heard the coming and going, and Jegari’s quiet spying had found out that Jase-aiji was talking with Great-uncle, who had been having visitors all morning—political visitors, Jegari said, because of everything that was going on in the Guild.

It was the Conservative Caucus coming and going. Cajeiri knew what that was: Great-uncle was head of it, and Great-grandmother was part of it, or at least—people in it listened to Great-grandmother; but Great-grandmother was busy and Great-uncle was doing all the talking, and thus far his own aishid had kept trying to get information with very little success—except to say that there had been a very serious matter downtown, at Guild Headquarters, and that there was another Ajuri dead—in this case, the old man that had been so much trouble to everybody.