Intruder (33 page)

Who had suggested Tabini take a holiday in Taiben, the one clan the conspirators could not crack?

Tabini’s staff had been wiped out. Tabini and Damiri had survived.

But who had driven the conspiracy? How could a mere lord order Assassins who could get the better of Assassins in the employ of the highest office in the land?

There were, in the majority in the Guild, Assassins with personal man’chi to the great houses, serving in all the clans that composed the aishidi’tat. Banichi and Jago were that sort of Guild members. So, one was relatively certain, was Cenedi.

But he had recently learned there was a second culture inside the Guild, one with man’chi only to the Guild itself…and that—

That culture had produced Algini. And maybe Tano.

One could see it, applying a little critical thought that the paidhi ought, perhaps, to have used long before now. One well knew that when Tabini’s administration had brought massive change to the world, and that change had upset people. Not only some lords, but no few of the guilds had found themselves arguing with Tabini-aiji—not recently, not all at the same time, but often enough to keep politics in ferment.

Yet amid all the furor of objections from the Messengers, and Transportation, and Commerce, and Industry, there had been utter silence from one guild.

The Assassins’ Guild, typically, had never said a word in opposition to the aiji. The whole world was accustomed to believe that that one guild, serving all houses, serving all interests, had no political bent and no opinion. It simply supported the aiji so long as he had a majority of lords on his side.

Wrong, apparently.

Apparently something
had
been building within the Guild. Maneuvering, as leadership aged and newer people moved into office.

Since the coup, since very recent events in the Marid, one began to understand that certain things had run
exactly
the way they would run in human society—or close enough that the paidhi should have paid closer attention to that circumscribed area of no-information. Whoever ran the Guild currently was a shadow, but he or she
had
an opinion. Whoever backed that Guild leader had opinions.

Algini himself had an opinion—and had finally declared man’chi for the paidhi-aiji only recently. Watching and waiting for years, Algini had finally declared a point of view and a loyalty.

Did it indicate that the paidhi had moved much closer to the Guild’s position?

Had the Guild’s new or renewed leadership now moved closer to him?

Or—third possibility—had the Guild now determined to act on him directly, to be
sure
he moved in the Guild’s direction?

He had seen the folly in the cell phone bill, for one major instance. He had already firmly put the brakes on the advent of war machines landed from orbit. Geigi, working with the space station during the coup, had started dropping what amounted to robotic communications centers and war machines about the continent and had unilaterally supplied Mospheira with cell phones and communications that had already changed the Island profoundly. Technology
that had seemed in balance between humans on earth and the atevi now seemed sorely out of balance. At least atevi had come out of the event feeling that such might be the case, and they were worried about their future. What until recently had seemed like a stable and predictable future had started looking otherwise.

There was so, so much of the set of circumstances that had perched on his doorstep, in the Guild’s view of things. Could one doubt
why
the Guild had moved heaven and earth to get an agent into his household?

And now Algini was talking to him, warning him, advising him directly, and making suggestions. Did one take that
only
for Algini’s personal opinion? He wasn’t sure he did.

And there was one question he had to ask, that he dreaded asking, and he asked it when they got back to the apartment. He gave Jago a look that said,
I want to talk to you,
and the two of them went to the hall outside the guest quarters.

He knew a very few Guild signals, the ones that didn’t change with every mission. And he used just one, quietly, where only she could see.

Trust?
The rest of the gesture went toward the rear of the apartment, where Tano and Algini happened to be at the moment.

She took in a breath, and simply nodded, adding the sign that meant,
Aishid.

So she and Banichi had no misgivings about their partners. And therefore he should have none.

That was worth its weight in gold. To him, it was.

It didn’t answer the question what a human was doing, blind and deaf to man’chi, wandering in the mix of atevi motivations and loyalties…

Well, yes, it did. It did answer it, from the time a batch of humans had planted themselves in atevi territory, messed up the contact, and
somebody
had to be assigned to make the situation work.

It was gratifying that atevi at very high levels thought he had common sense enough to be warned about the ground he was treading. Maybe the Assassins’ Guild was the guild most apt to understand existence in that peculiar outland, between two loyalties.

And how damned scary it was to make decisions in that territory, trying to save both sides.

“H
e
must
be here,” Antaro said, out of breath. “The door has not been open.”

Cajeiri had looked absolutely everywhere and had Eisi and Liedi bring lunch in; and anyone going in or out was careful with the door, and was watched, carefully, and guarded at every step.

Boji had been missing from before lunch, and they had looked and looked and looked.

Antaro and Jegari knew Boji’s habits and where a little creature might take refuge, which was in small places. “He will come out for food and water,” they said, which made sense, so one of them sat guard over the cage, where food and water was, but far enough away not to frighten Boji.

Veijico and Lucasi had looked, and they were real Guild, who were good at finding hidden little things.

But bugs, they said, did not move when about to be discovered, and so one of them looked at one angle of the underside of a table, and the other watched the other side. They searched absolutely every piece of furniture and even behind the mattress, where it was up against the headboard, which was not easy to do, and behind every drawer of the bureau, which was not easy either.

The first thought was that Boji would not be far from food or water. The offer of water had not turned him up. The second thought was that a fresh egg or two might bring him, since he had not had an egg today.

It did not.

And one began to think over every trip they had made outside the doors last night and began to wonder uneasily if Boji had gotten out earlier, or if—worst of all—he had gotten to the front door or the servants’ doors and just slipped out far, far beyond their search, maybe down into the lower halls, in which case he could be anywhere. Anywhere. Even down to the train station, for all they knew.

Cajeiri feared so. He very greatly feared so, and told Eisi, one of the servants who had collaborated with them, bringing food and taking out soiled sand. “Be on the alert to any sign, anywhere in the premises. One believes he could even have gotten out into the servants’ halls, nadi-ji. Please look for him! Search little places! But ask no one! Do not tell anyone!”

It was a disaster. If Boji got out into the Bujavid halls, he would embarrass his father and his father’s security and the whole thing would be notorious, worse even than the mechieta and Uncle’s new driveway, which already was told about him far more often than he would like. His parents would
wish
they would have a new baby who caused less trouble. They would send him off to learn responsibility.

Maybe they would send him to mani.

Mani would not be very patient with him losing Boji in her household, but at least she would just thwack his ear and forget it in an hour or so. His father and mother never forgot anything, and every time he did something in the least wrong the whole history came up again.

It was just wretched.

And he did not want to think of poor scared Boji getting out in the halls. Boji could find his way clear out of the Bujavid, out on the hill, down to the streets. He would be in the middle of Shejidan, where he could get into more trouble, and where he would find no food. He imagined the outside of the hill, where, as best he knew, there was no water, just rocks, and trees, and shrubbery. There
were probably creepers, so there might be eggs, but only very little ones.

And all the traffic of the hotels racketed about below the hill: streetcars, and shops, and the people coming and going…Boji could get into really, really bad trouble if he had gotten out. He could be killed.

Or he could be living down in the tunnels and passages of the Bujavid, which was even worse—there might be water, but there would be no eggs at all, and it was dark and scary, and Boji liked sleeping in little secure places, like the little bag they had hung in his cage, which he slipped into very happily, with just his tail sticking up out of the bag…

Where in the apartment was like that little bag?

His aishid was still searching. They were all in the girls’ room now, taking apart the beds and searching in little spaces.

He started looking for places they might not think of. He started thinking of things like a bag. He started thinking about cloth-covered, dark places, and he looked at the hangings, and he looked even inside a big vase. And then he got down and looked under a table in a dark corner and saw…

The underside of the chair next to the table was cloth. Cloth chairs with cloth bottoms. He went from room to room looking under chairs. He looked behind the tapestry. And then he looked behind the doors, and even tipped over the very tall brass vase, just in case.

Boji was nowhere to be found. Nowhere. His aishid had by then put the girls’ beds together again and put all the drawers back in.

So…

He looked under
his
bed. In case. And under the ornate chair in the corner.

There was, under its bottom, a dark spot that looked odd. He investigated with his fingers and there was a hole.

That
was not the sort of thing the gentleman in charge of furnishings
would like or would ever have let out unrepaired. And
they
had not put a hole in it in searching. It was just Boji’s size, and Boji had those very clever fingers.

He sat back on his heels and thought about it. If they made a big fuss and scared Boji, then the next time he got out, Boji would pick someplace harder to find. He could figure that. And he knew about this hole.

So he quietly got up, figuring to go get one of the eggs they had for bait. And on his way he put his head into the boys’ room, where they were starting to take apart Lucasi’s bed.

“One believes one may have found him. Be very quiet, nadiin-
ji! And stay here and do not make any noise!”

He ran and got an egg. And a writing pen.

And he went and sat down on the floor by the chair and used the metal pen nib to punch a hole in the end of the egg.

He sat very still with his back turned to the chair. Eggs had a smell. Boji always knew when one was offered.

Suddenly he heard movement, the sound of claws on fabric. A startling weight landed on his shoulder and headed straight down his arm to the egg.

Boji was back. He let Boji eat the egg but not take it from his hand, and with his other hand he got a grip on Boji’s harness.

Just then someone knocked at the front door, and Boji exploded, flinging egg every which way. Boji might have bitten him in his twisting and fighting to get free, except his hold on the harness was in the middle of Boji’s back, and Boji just fought and spat and yowled as he got up.

Eisi and Lieidi knew not to knock, but someone came into the sitting room, probably one of the other servants, who were
not
permitted, and Cajeiri was prepared to tell them so—if he had not his arms full. He gathered himself up to his feet, shoved Boji into the hollow of his other arm and tried to calm Boji’s struggles and chittering, soothing that had some effect, at least enough that Boji stopped fighting.

Antaro had gone down the inner hall to reach the sitting room…he
saw her pass the door; both doors to the bedroom were open, the sitting room door and the inner corridor door, so he had no trouble hearing.

“Aiji-ma,”
he heard Antaro say, and Cajeiri’s stomach sank.

“Tell my son I shall see him,” was the answer.

Boji’s cage was in that room with the door open. Cajeiri headed for the other, inner door, for Lucasi and Jegari’s room, with the intention of handing Boji to them, but Boji suddenly set up a yowl.

“What was that?” he heard his father ask, and Antaro said, out in the sitting room, with admirable presence of mind, “One will ask, aiji-ma.”

But there was nothing for it. His hands, his face, and his good clothes were spattered with egg yolk, Boji was chattering and spitting in fright, ripping the threads of his coat in frantic attempts to escape, and his father was not going to be in a better humor at being lied to by a trainee Guildswoman under his orders.

He took a deep breath, kept a firm grip on Boji, who was clawing frantically all the while, and went out into the sitting room. His father was standing there alone, Antaro having headed for the back of the suite. He met in Antaro the doorway and caught her eyes in passing, on his way into the sitting room. He dared not say a thing but just kept going.

“Honored father,” he said, and bowed, which made Boji grab his coat with both hands, for safety.

“Son of mine,” his father said in that deep, ominous voice. “
What
is that?”

“A pariid’ja, honored Father.”

“One can detect that basic fact. Let us amend the question.
Why
is it here?”

It was not a good thing to dodge Father’s questions. He had rehearsed what he would say when he had to tell his parents about Boji. He had rehearsed it every night. But all of that was useless. “One requested him, honored Father. One had gotten the cage, and one thought—”