He had a dilemma, was what. He had to make Lucasi and Veijico care.
More, he had to make Lucasi and Veijico care what
he
thought.
His father was very clever. His father was a great strategist and absolutely ruthless, which was what his father’s enemies said, even though his father was really good to people who deserved his good opinion. His father was so smooth that sometimes people had trouble telling which he was being at the moment—ruthless, or good.
He had thought, a few days ago, that his father had given him two very good guards, despite the suddenness of the surprise; and they were real Guild, and young, and he was going to like them just the way they were and everything was going to be splendid.
Not so easy.
It was like dealing with Great-grandmother. About the time one thought one had her figured out, Great-grandmother proved to be a few moves ahead. Dealing with his father was like that, more than anybody else he had ever met, and he thought about it, sitting in his little sitting-room at his desk, parsing his verbs, and watching Jegari and Antaro over in the corner with Lucasi and Veijico. Jegari and Antaro were listening, all respectful, to something Lucasi and Veijico were telling them—and he thought—
I was stupid when I thought I could ever bring somebody that smart in that fast. I was too nice.
These two are not easy to manage and they come with no ties to me the way Jegari and Antaro have. These two cheat. They lie. They sneak. And that would be all right, except—they disrespect
me.
They annoy
me.
One has to be smarter than they are to make them behave themselves, there is
no
kinship between us, and the fight has to go on all the time—because their man’chi is
not
to me nor to anybody in the whole midlands—maybe not to anybody up in their mountains, who knows?
It
would
be easier if I were older. If I could impress them—I could get their man’chi. But they left home to join the Guild. So one supposes man’chi is no longer there. And right now they belong to nobody except maybe the Guild. They say they report to my father, but I doubt they really feel man’chi toward him, or the Guild, or anybody in the world, even their own clan, which is small—too small for
their
ambitions. One can see that. They have probably always had trouble.
Which was not to say they were bad. Or wrong.
They were just going to be
work.
A
lot
of work. Running them, he would need to be sharp all the time, or he could never trust those two to do what he said—until he got old enough and powerful enough to get their attention. His father probably thought if they were going to make a mistake they would make it so senior Guild saw it and fixed it, but that was not necessarily so. They were sneaky. And everybody in this house was busy. And there was something his father might not have seen: these two were upset, and maybe they thought they were being disrespected in being given to a child, even a child who was the aiji’s son and heir. They happened to be wrong to think that—he bet his father bet that he would duck out on them and give
them
trouble the way he had always done.
But that kind of behavior was for guards that people set
over
his aishid. Part
of
his aishid—that was something else, and it had stopped being fun, was what, because inside an aishid—there had to be trust. There had to be man’chi holding the whole thing together. And that was what he was
not
able to get out of these two.
He had escaped his tutor, escaped his lessons in the capital, and come out here to go on nand’ Bren’s boat and go fishing with Jegari and Antaro. Life was going to be easy and good and constant fun.
Now they had been shot at, the windows were all boarded up, both the boats were out of commission with repairs, and his father had sent him a gift to protect him, as if he was that same boy who had ducked out of the Bujavid to get away from that old fool of a tutor?
Hell, nand’ Bren would say. Bloody hell.
And he could call those two over right now and tell them exactly what he was thinking, but they were too self-assured to take any shame of it.
And his father might
think
those two were naturally in awe of the aiji of the whole aishidi’tat, and that they would follow his orders, if nobody else’s . . . but they were, in fact, just too smart to be impressed. They would absorb any warning the aiji’s son gave them and come out of it just the way he would, thinking he still could get the better of the situation and run things the way he wanted. They were more than twice his age and they had had a long time to get into bad habits. And they had every fault Great-grandmother said he had.
Which made him mad, because it meant maybe his father saw the same thing—
Was it possible? Would his father do that to him?
Things he was involved in were serious. Lucasi and Veijico thought they knew how serious and just how much they could get away with.
But he was Great-grandmother’s student, and nand’ Bren’s, and Banichi’s and Cenedi’s and Jago’s, and he was not going to be found at fault for their misbehaviors.
They
thought
they had his father figured, and they could just run things in his household until
he
grew up, and that they could get past Jegari and Antaro and be senior. On a second and third thought, probably everything had been fine with them until they had found out he was going to prefer two Guild trainees to
them,
and then they had gotten their backs up—gods, they
might
even have the notion of getting
rid
of Jegari and Antaro, if they were really ruthless.
And they were real Guild, and had no orders about that . . . and no scruples.
That was a terrible, terrible thought.
He hadn’t thought it when, of course, he had told them how the household was to be ordered.
He had told them that back when he had made assumptions they would automatically have man’chi to him . . .
It was just not good, when he thought about things from the side of two very ruthless, very determined, almost-adult Guild.
Algini, who let very little slip, had given him a direct warning:
They are not all good.
When Banichi and Jago and Cenedi had all been with him in deep space, Algini and Tano were the ones who had stayed on the space station. Algini in particular had helped reconstitute the Assassins’ Guild after the coup.
So Algini’s letting slip that one small expression was no casual remark. It was a very purposeful warning. Had he been asleep? He did not think Algini ever was.
So
he
had to get control of his own aishid, fast, before somebody got hurt. He had given orders maybe his elders would not advise, and he had either to give up control of his own household to them—or get these two to change their ways.
Gods, mark it down to remember: annoy his father the way he had done and his father was eventually to reckon with. Had his father
known
what might happen? Did he still predict it?
Did his father
care
whether his son and heir could rely on his own household—when a mistake could get people killed?
His mother and father were having another baby, a
safe
baby they would bring up themselves, and who would not have been off in space with Great-grandmother and nand’ Bren, that was what. Succeed or not. Obey or not. Rule or not. Make these two obey—or not. There
will be
an alternative to you.
Damn it!
Lucasi and Veijico were
homework,
was what. They were capable of becoming a real major problem.
And he could solve it one way by asking Great-grandmother to take them away and put them in
her
guard. She would make an impression on them, and she was almost the only person who could—because Guild who had served high up in the aiji’s house could only go to a related aishid; or they had
nowhere
to go. And in the Guild—that could be fatal. Were Lucasi and Veijico thinking about
that
at all when they acted so snotty with Antaro and Jegari?
Or with him?
He
could
go to Great-grandmother, and she would assign them tower duty in Malguri, which was about as far from talking to anybody as you could get . . . for the rest of their lives.
If they were as smart as they thought they were, they would be afraid of that eventuality. They would have figured out that if this assignment went bad, they would know too many house secrets to be let loose into someone else’s employ.
So Lucasi and Veijico were in a bit of a trap, whether or not they figured it out. He was ahead of them in that.
And he was not ready quite yet to go to his Great-grandmother, but he had thought out his alternatives. He scowled at them, thinking this, and they noticed, and pretended not to, and then he smiled at them with his father’s nastiest smile. They would ask each other, later, “What was that look about?” and they would probably not come up with the right answer.
Which proved that they were not quite as smart as they thought they were.
He had to impress them and get them to
take
orders from Antaro and Jegari. That was the first thing on the menu. And he could
not
sit around playing with the slingshota and being told that he could
not
meet the bus and could
not
find out what the important business was between nand’ Bren and Lord Geigi. He had a rival. His father had warned him about that. And maybe his father had even thought he would go on playing games while things were happening that were serious, even after being warned. Maybe his parents had decided he was stupid.
He was not Baiji. Maybe if he were, having Lucasi and Veijico around would not matter at all and he could just sit back and let them run his life.
But he was
not
Baiji. And his father regarded him enough to challenge him, really challenge him. That was an encouraging idea.
So he got up, he had Jegari go get his better shirt and best coat, and Antaro help him with his pigtail and ribbon, to look absolutely his best.
He was, first of all, going to go call on Great-grandmother, because he was sure Lord Geigi and Lord Bren would both be talking to Great-grandmother among the very first things they did, and if he were there when they came back, and in very good graces because he showed up looking like a gentleman, he might be able to stay with Great-grandmother once the bus arrived. And it
should
be coming soon. The airport was about a quarter of an hour past the train station: he had heard staff say that.
And he would have Jegari and Antaro for a presence inside mani’s suite so
they
would get the information first-hand. Even better, all the information Lucasi and Veijico could get would have to be second-hand, from them. Which served them exactly right.
So when he had dressed, he found a moment to pass close to them, and said:
“You should stay here, or in the library with Tano and Algini, if they permit. What Lord Geigi says when he gets here will be important. And his presence here will upset the Marid. So possibly they will attack us again. But attacking my great-grandmother is not a good idea. So learn from what you hear.”
“Nandi,” Lucasi said, with a little bow of his head. They looked just a little put off—maybe because they had not had outstanding success getting to sit in the security station with Tano and Algini.
Too bad for them.
He left his apartment, then, and went just next door, to Great-grandmother’s suite, and knocked. Nawari opened the door. That was good. Cenedi was there, behind him. And that was not.
He bowed. “Is mani receiving, nadi-ji?” he asked, in best form.
“Perhaps soon, young sir,” Nawari said.
He had made his move little early then. Damn. Very damn.
But then Cenedi said, with unexpected generosity: “You might come in and wait in the sitting room, should you wish, young lord. Is there some particular business?”
It was the immaculate clothes and proper form. It had to be. He straightened his shoulders.
“Nothing in particular,” he said to Cenedi. “One came to be very quiet, and to learn. We are not to meet the bus and we are not to interfere with nand’ Bren and nand’ Geigi. But surely we can be very quiet and listen.”
Cenedi looked him up and down, looked at Antaro and Jegari—and showed him right in.
Maybe it was the fact Lucasi and Veijico were
not
with them. Was
that
not a thought?
He set himself in the lesser chair by the fireplace, and Jegari and Antaro properly positioned themselves, standing, along the wall.
So! They were
in.
And he would be particularly on his best behavior when Great-grandmother laid eyes on him—absolutely proper. Great-grandmother would be sure, just the same as Cenedi and Nawari, that he was bursting with curiosity, and that sometimes annoyed her. But that was not all that it was. He had very serious matters to deal with, himself, and no one had figured that out and told him what to do.