Deceiver: Foreigner #11 (15 page)

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Authors: C. J. Cherryh

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A thump of the cane on the floor punctuated the dowager’s assessment. “The aishidi’tat has
never
solved its problems in this district. Your leadership, Geigi-ji, your personal efforts, brought peace and laid the foundations for an association on this coast. And the world may have urgently needed your talents on the station, where you have done remarkable things for us all; but with your departure to that effort—a keystone fell out of the association here. Your own clan has grown weak, at best, and we fear, at worst, quite as much as your nephew, Maschi clan has been playing both sides of the recent civil disturbance.”
My God,
Bren thought, and two and three pieces of the situation clicked into place. Not just the nephew. The
clan
seat . . . poised physically between Kajiminda and Marid territory.
“One is appalled,” Geigi said somberly. “Their communications to me have been routine.”
“So have their communications to my grandson in the capital. It does not say those communications have been truthful.”
“Aiji-ma!”
“Pish, Geigi-ji. Where is ’Sidi-ji?”
“ ’Sidi-ji, forgive me. But one is—appalled, entirely. Thunderstruck. Embarrassed, extremely. Pairuti—before the Troubles, he was a dull fellow. He collected
sisui
figures. That is absolutely the only distinction he had. He kept meticulous books. He—”
“—is absolutely dutiful in attending court sessions, for both Murini
and
my grandson, of course. Whoever has been in power, yes, Pairuti has been obedient and attended court. But his proximity to the Marid during such uneasy times has required more talents than collecting porcelain miniatures. And what troubles me, Geigi-ji, is that he has
not
distinguished himself lately in providing information. Cenedi-ji?”
Cenedi said, “Nandiin, a query to Shejidan has
not
produced any but routine, formal communications of a mundane nature from Lord Pairuti to the aiji since his return. Guild communications are equally sterile, reporting everything in the district tranquil, and the district prosperous throughout. There is
no
fluctuation in the provincial tax records, be it Murini or Tabini-aiji in Shejidan.”
“One would expect something more of disturbance,” Ilisidi said in a low voice. “Considering the situation in this district of the province, which
we
have turned up inside only a few days’ residence, its mundane character becomes entirely damning.”
“Gods,” Geigi said. Geigi, the Rational Determinist, who relied on reason. “Gods. I know the tone of his letters, up and down. Pairuti discusses his acquisitions. His figurines. He offers his felicitations on whatever good fortune has attended, his sorrow for any ill—of course his willingness to be of service, when he is so remote he knows he will never be called upon in the least. I have dealt with him for years. He is the most boring man in the aishidi’tat.”
“He surely called you on the station, once my grandson returned to power.”
“He did. He did. Never an indication of Marid pressure on Sarini Province, no hint of the nest of Marid lurking in Separti. He offered condolences for my sister’s death—he promised to look in on my nephew. I took it in the way of every promise from him, something one means very well, but one never intends to get around to . . . unless he should extend his travel a little on his way to the airport, for winter court. And one was all but certain he never would actually do it. Those are my correspondences with Pairuti. But his people thrive. He has been a decent administrator. His extravagances are all for his collections.”
“And he has written faithfully to Tabini-aiji,” Cenedi said. “Nothing suspicious at all—except
we
know situations in
this
district that the lord of the Maschi should have known.”
“The Edi did not inform him,” Banichi said, “that we know. But he did not inform himself of the situation at Kajiminda and at Separti and Dalaigi? With whom is the man trading?”
“With whom, indeed?” Ilisidi muttered. “Is this the pattern of a man who keeps good books and succeeds in the markets? He was
at
winter court, making excuses for your nephew, Geigi-ji. He was either ignorant, or complicitous in the situation here, nandi, forgive my bluntness.”
Damn,
Bren said to himself. He hated surprises. And
surely
the lord of Maschi clan had not been under suspicion when he came here: he could not—
Not until the paidhi-aiji encountered the local situation and stirred up a nest of trouble, which, in turn, proved the aiji’s information had been lacking.
The dowager had applied directly to Shejidan for her information, been told wrong in a way that had nearly gotten them all killed, and now had narrowed down the logical source of misinformation inside the province.
Damned right the dowager had had her staff asking questions, direct ones, ever since Tabini’s visit yesterday, when staff had met staff and information had passed—to her people, and to his. In Banichi’s eye he caught an indefinable glint of expression. Banichi
had
been on it, or at least Tano and Algini, left behind today, had been briefing themselves.
“One had no idea,” he murmured to Geigi, chagrined, “or one surely would have said something of it on the bus. I would personally have
trusted
Pairuti.”
“So would we all,” Ilisidi said grimly. “So
did
we all, until it came clear to us that if my grandson lacked facts, it might not be that he has failed to gather information from Sarini Province . . . but that those who should be advising him—have directly
lied.
”
“One still—” Geigi said. “One still cannot entirely conclude . . .” A breath. “Did you come here suspecting this?”
“We did not.” She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “We shall cease to amaze you, nand’ paidhi. We sent to Shejidan last night, in the dark hours. We called our household staff at that unsavory time of night. We asked certain questions, and this morning while you, nand’ paidhi, were otherwise occupied with estate business, my staff in Shejidan was busy phoning certain offices and locating records. While you were at the airport, your staff and mine received their report, a complete
lack
of extraordinary information in the court record of missives from Lord Pairuti. He reports the sad death of your sister, Geigi-ji, and the accession of your nephew, to whom he says he has written offering assistance. He reports everything quiet in the province, and reports, at court, the restoration of trade. He provides exquisitely balanced books for the whole district. Nothing is the matter. Which is exactly the thought that interrupted our sleep last night. The prospect that someone of Maschi clan might call on us in Lord Geigi’s sojourn here, or worse, with our Lord Geigi understaffed at Kajiminda, suddenly occurred to us,
hence
my calls to Shejidan, which I assure you were deeply coded. We used the night hours and this morning to ask a range of unpleasant questions—and to notify my grandson, who—
if
he had asked such questions immediately instead of assuming the vector of attack on us had been entirely southerly, out of Separti Township—would have turned this up. As it is, he has deployed his forces southward. The Marid infestation south of here may be a mere decoration. A deliberate distraction.” A waggle of the fingers. “Of course we could be wrong. But we rarely are.”
“One is appalled,” Bren said. “One is utterly appalled, aiji-ma.”
“Ha. So you agree.” The ancient eyes that had seen a good deal of treachery in a lifetime sparked fire. “And we shall not sit here inert.”
“’Sidi-ji,” Geigi said. “ ’Sidi-ji. What can one say to this?”
“That you will take action, Geigi-ji. That you have been a long time removed from this arena, and your presence here as lord of Sarini Province can only be salutary.”
“One had planned to return to the station, but—”
“Oh, you shall. You must. You have done far too well in that position. Considering the situation we face, with foreigners apt to arrive, we need you there. But certain things need your attention.”
“Absolutely, aiji-ma. Whatever one can do—”
“If my grandson steps in and takes action, it is another heavy-handed Ragi seizure—such an unhappy history on this coast. If the Guild does—the same. Things here are delicate. You appreciate it in unique ways. And coming at proof may not be easy. Lord Pairuti may have destroyed records . . .”
Geigi held up a finger. “May have. But I would wager not, aiji-ma. Not that man. His disposition is compulsive—a passion for details. He will have them. And I can get them. I shall need to take back Kajiminda with some dispatch. Clearly, so doing, I shall need to interview certain of my own clan. Which makes my calling on Pairuti obligatory. He will expect it. He will be in a dither to hide the records, but he will not destroy them, not that man.”
Go there? Good God.
“We are understaffed, Geigi-ji,” Bren protested.
“We have taken measures in that direction, nandiin,” Ilisidi said smugly. “We will
have
force at our disposal—granted my grandson understands our position. He will
not
permit Lord Geigi to come to grief. He may fuss about the situation. But he will move to protect the treaty that binds the coast to the aishidi’tat . . . and you, Geigi-ji, are its living embodiment. He
will
move.”
Read: Tabini hadn’t agreed to Ilisidi’s demands. Tabini hadn’t jumped to relocate his forces from Separti. He hadn’t come rushing to Ilisidi’s conclusion, perhaps, or he had something else going on that he wasn’t happy to leave.
Which could mean there were complications.
Najida’s perspective on the immediate threat, however, were different than Tabini’s. If Pairuti was colluding with the Marid, Najida was staring up the barrel of a gun. Problems could come at them right down the airport road. Or arrive en masse by train.
And Tabini, mind, had just yesterday left his son and heir
and
the aiji-dowager
in
this position.
Damn, he didn’t like it when Tabini turned as inscrutable and ruthless as his grandmother. Especially when he and people he cared about were in the target zone. He had to get Toby and Barb out of the harbor, as early as possible. He’d
like
to ship Cajeiri and his young company back to Shejidan . . . but that meant exposing the movement in Najida. They’d had their chance to get Cajeiri moved out—and his father had left him behind, perhaps—dared one even think it—as an intentional
proof
of his lack of alarm?
“We need the help of the Edi, aiji-ma,” he said. “We need everything they can bring to bear.”
“Oh, we shall have help,” Ilisidi said with a small, tight smile. “And so much the better if the Edi will protect the grounds here, and protect us all. I have requested it. I have asked Ramaso to relay it to the Grandmother, and I have received assurances.”
God, leave the house for a few hours and come back to war preparations.
“We shall deal with it, ’Sidi-ji.” Geigi gave a little bow, distressed of countenance, but not about to retreat, no, not with that look. “I shall do everything in my power, aiji-ma, and your recommendations, allowing me to deal with this myself, are generous. And I shall want to speak to the Edi on your staff, with your kind permission.”
“You certainly have Najida’s full support, Geigi-ji,” Bren said, “so far as lies in my hands.”
“And I shall see my nephew.” Geigi drew in a long, long breath. “The wretch. I will meet with him tomorrow after breakfast. Tell him I am here, Bren-ji; and let him stew tonight.”
 
It had been interesting. Interesting was what Great-grandmother would call it. Cajeiri had been just very quiet and respectful, and heard all kinds of news about the neighbors, and scary hints that nand’ Geigi was going to have a talk with his relatives inland.
The talk he meant to have with Baiji, down in the basement—
that
was one Cajeiri very much wanted to hear. He was already thinking how to get in on that interview, even if he and his aishid just had to be casually walking through the downstairs—repeatedly.
But he had been right in his approach. He and, he was sure, Jegari and Antaro, had sopped up a lot of what was going on with the seniors; and maybe Lucasi and Veijico had learned something useful, too—if Tano and Algini had been in a good mood.
So very quietly, after nand’ Bren and nand’ Geigi had left—Cajeiri paid his own little bow to Great-grandmother. “One is grateful, mani. One did learn.”
“See you stay within the house, Great-grandson. And stay within call.”
“
Yes,
mani.” A second bow, a deep one, in leaving. “I shall.”
What was going on outside mani’s rooms was preparation for a formal dinner this evening, and nand’ Toby and Barb-daja insisted they were coming up from the boat, which had security and staff running about—not mentioning the ongoing process of getting Lord Geigi fully installed in his suite, which had been the security office, and fed a light late lunch—everybody in the house had already eaten—to tide him over until supper.
And Lucasi and Veijico had been in the library with Tano and Algini—who might have let them hear all of it, he supposed—glum thought—or maybe not.

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