Deceiver: Foreigner #11 (23 page)

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Authors: C. J. Cherryh

BOOK: Deceiver: Foreigner #11
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“We do not lie, nandi!”
“What is a lie?” he asked back—seguing right to one of Great-grandmother’s little lectures.
“We do not lie.”
“Answer me! What is a lie?”
A deep, annoyed breath. “A falsehood, nandi. And where have we uttered a falsehood?”
“You try to give me a false impression.
That
is a lie. You talk in signs and you discuss my great-grandmother. That is
stupid,
by itself! And lying to me does not improve it!”
A sullen bow in reply. “If you choose to regard it that way, nandi.”
“Do you see a difference in it, nadiin?
I
do not. You may be called upon to lie in my service. But never lie to me. Never lie to Antaro and Jegari. And never conceal your opinions from me! But be
very
careful of my great-grandmother!”
They both looked as if they had a mouthful of something very unpleasant.
“Well?” he said. “Say it.”
“We are concerned,” Veijico said. “We are greatly concerned that your elders are making dangerous decisions. Your great-grandmother is aiji-dowager, but she is
not
the aiji. We are bound to report to him.”
“And I say you do not! Who do you think you are, nadiin? Higher than Cenedi? Higher than Banichi?”
“We report to the aiji, your father!”
“Regarding me! Regarding when I break one of nand’ Bren’s rules or get lost on the boat! But you do not make calls to my father about my great-grandmother, or you will be very sorry for it. You do not meddle! Do you hear me?”
“We hear,” Lucasi said in a low voice, and not a shred of remorse was in evidence. “But we have an opinion, nandi.”
“State it.”
“These are foreigners,” Veijico said after a moment of silence, “with their own man’chi.”
“Who
is a foreigner?” he asked. “Do we mean the Edi?” Deeper breath. “Or do we mean nand’ Bren? Or do we mean nand’ Geigi, who comes from the space station?”
Another silence. Then, from Lucasi: “We are concerned about the welfare of this house, nandi. Your great-grandmother is attempting to replace the lord of Maschi clan. This will upset the whole aishidi’tat. It affects every lord. It will not be popular.”
“Maybe,” he said. “But it may be smart, if Pairuti is a fool like Baiji, or if he has made bad bargains with the wrong people.”
“And Lord Geigi and Lord Bren are considering going to the Maschi house! That is stupid, nandi!”
“We doubt it is.”
“You
are eight years old.”
Oh,
there
it was. Antaro and Jegari took in their breath. He saw their heads lift, and saw them both like wound springs, ready to say something. He signed no.
And smiled, just like Great-grandmother. “Yes, I am at an infelicitous age,” he said, not personally using the insulting and unlucky
eight.
“But I understand when not to touch things. You should learn it.”
Two very rigid faces. “We were put here,” Veijico said, “because we have a mature understanding, which you, young lord, do not yet—”
“You were put here,”
Cajeiri said, “because I make guards look bad and tutors quit. The only ones who can keep up with me are Antaro and Jegari. See if you can, if I get mad at you.”
That got frowns. “We can keep up with you,” Veijico said. “Never doubt that.”
“Good,” he said. “Baji-naji, nadiin. People have been wrong. And you do
not
call my father to report on my great-grandmother. Sometimes my great-grandmother is scary. So are her associates. You should get used to this. My father is used to it. So should you be, if you are going to try to keep up with me.”
Sullen silence from Lucasi, and one from Veijico. A scarcely perceptible bow from Lucasi.
“Are you honest with me?” Cajeiri asked. “Do you still think I am stupid and have to be lied to?”
A little pause additional. Then a slow bow from Lucasi and from Veijico, nearly simultaneous. “No,” they said.
Not: No, nandi. Just no. They were saying what they had to say. But he realized something right then that he should have felt much sooner. There was no connection. There was no man’chi. And there was no inclination toward it. They might feel it toward his father. But who knew where else—if it was not to him?
But
everybody
who was not his father’s enemy felt man’chi toward his father. To decide that
was
their man’chi—that was more than a little presumptuous on their part. Presumptuous. That was what mani would say. They thought they were in his father’s guard. They found fault with his great-grandmother and practically everybody, including him.
A lot of people in the central clans were like that. But
they
were from the mountains. They had made up their minds to be like that.
And he was mad.
He was very mad at them. And they knew it. It was in the stares they gave back, and they were not in the least sorry.
“You know far less than you think you do,” he said. He would
never
dare say that to the least of Great-grandmother’s men. He would never dare say that to the maid who cleaned the room. But he said it, and meant it, and glared at them.
He had finally disturbed them. Good.
But they were not sorry about it.
He did not like that. People in one’s guard who were not in one’s man’chi were dangerous people, people he did not want near him.
But his father had given them to him, and he was stuck with them.
He could give them one more day and let everybody cool down, and
then
call his father. Or tell mani. They would not last long if he talked to mani, who would talk to Cenedi, who would find someplace to put them, no question.
He was not quite ready to do that. Just upset. And sometimes his upsets went away in an hour.
“You have made me mad,” he said, “and that is stupid, nadiin.”
“Nandi,” Antaro said quietly, “they
are
Guild. And you did put us over them, and that is hard for them.”
“We do not need defense, nadi,” Veijico said shortly.
“Twice fools!” Cajeiri said, and set his jaw. “Give
me
that face, nadiin!”
It was what mani would say when
he
sulked. And it got their attention.
“I could turn you over to mani,” he said. “But I am mad right now. And when you do something involving my great-grandmother you had better mean it. So I am giving you one more chance. You take my orders.”
A deep breath from Veijico. A little backing up, from both of them, as if, finally, they had had better sense, or saw a way out. If you corner somebody—Banichi had told him once, and he had always remembered it—you can make them go where you want, by what escape you give them.
“You go,” he said, “and keep an eye on things in the house, and if anything happens about what we heard today, or if anything changes, or you even suspect it is changing, you come back to me and tell me. But do not follow me about, and do not ever be telling me what to do. You can give me your opinions. But you
cannot
give me orders.”
“Nandi,” Veijico said, and finally bowed her head and took a quieter stance. Lucasi did, too.
“Go do that,” he said, fairly satisfied with himself, even if he was still mad.
Only when they had gone and he was alone with Antaro and Jegari, he let go a lengthy breath and let a quieter expression back to his face.
“Do you think they will do it?” he asked them outright.
“One is not sure,” Jegari said. “But you scared them, nandi.”
“Good!” he said.
“You
are senior in my household, nadiin-ji, and will always be, no matter how high they are in the Guild. And for right now, none of the Guild under this roof are happy with them.”
“One has noticed that,” Antaro said.
“But we are obliged to take their orders in Guild matters,” Jegari said, “unless we have orders from you not to.”
“You have, nadiin-ji. We
order
you to refuse any order from them you think is stupid. Or wrong. And we want to know what they said and what they were doing. Their man’chi is
not
to us!”
“One perceived that, nandi,” Jegari said.
“One perceived it,” Antaro said in a quiet voice, “and was not that sure, until now. One is a little concerned, nandi. We were prepared to be careful what orders we took. At least to go to Cenedi or Banichi.”
Two of his aishid had political sense and discretion. The same two of his aishid had learned from Banichi and Cenedi, and that put them forever ahead of two who had not, in his opinion.
Two of his aishid had a real man’chi to him, and he cared deeply about that. The other two—it might yet come. If he got control of his temper. His father’s temper, Great-grandmother called it, and said she had none.
But he rather hoped it was hers he had, which was just a little quieter.
He had not shouted, had he?
And he thought he had put a little fear into those two. More than a little. He might be infelicitous eight, but he was nearly nine, and he was smarter than almost anybody except the people his father had left in charge of him, which he thought might be why his father had left him here—unless his father was tired of him getting in trouble and wanted to scare
him.
Fine,
if that was the case. He was only a little scared . . . less about what was going on outside the house than about the two Assassins his father had given him to protect him.
His father had given him a problem, was what. A damned big problem. And for the first time he wondered if his father knew
how
big . . . or had these two so wound up in man’chi to himself that he never conceived they could be that much of a problem where he sent them. Maybe they were to be perfect snoops into
his
aishid, and into nand’ Bren’s household and into mani’s.
Would his father
do
a thing like that?
It was what mani said, Watch out for a man whose enemies keep disappearing.
Well, that was his father, damned sure. Most everyone knew his father that way.
But then, one could also say that about Great-grandmother.
Both of them had been watching out for him, all his life. Now he had to look out for himself.
If he could
take
the man’chi of two of his father’s guard, that would be something, would it not? He had gone head to head with these two, and scared them.
The question was, did he want them? And could he get them at all, the way he had Jegari and Antaro? Did they have it in them, to be what Jegari and Antaro were?
Mani had told him, when she took him away from the ship and his human associates, that there were important things he had to learn, and things he never would feel in the right way, until he dealt with atevi and lived in the world.
Was this it?
His whole body felt different, hot and not angry, just—overheated, all the way down to his toes. Stupidhot, like a sugar high, but different. Not bad. Not safe, either . . . like looking down a long, dark tunnel that was not quite scary. It had no exit to either side, and no way back, but he knew he owned it, and he suddenly conceived the notion
he
was the danger here. He wondered if he
looked
different.
He needed to be apart from Veijico and Lucasi for a few hours, was what. Antaro and Jegari were all right. They steadied him down and they could make him laugh, which was what he very much needed right now. He very, very much needed that.
10
 
T
hus far, probably bored out of their minds, Bren thought, Toby and Barb were dutifully keeping to the basement, through all the coming and going in the house.
He went downstairs into the servants’ domain—Banichi and Jago stayed right with him despite his assurances that everything was calm and they could take a little rest; and they walked with him through the halls, two shadows generally one on a side, except where they passed the occasional servant on business. It was a bit of a warren down here, rooms diced up smaller than those above, and the floor plan much more humanish, having a big square of a central block and a corridor all the way around. The main kitchens were down here, with their back stairs up to the dining room service area; and next to them the laundry and the servant baths all clustered together at a right angle—sharing plumbing.
Beyond that side of the big block, beyond fire-doors and sound-baffling, was the servants’ own recreation hall, their own library and dining room, and beyond that, again another fire-door, the junior servants’ quarters.
Baiji occupied one of these rooms. One of Ilisidi’s young men, on duty at that door, had been reading. He set down his book so fast he dropped it, and got up with a little bow, which Bren returned—though likeliest it was Banichi and Jago whose presence had made him scramble.

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