Peacemaker (33 page)

“How are you faring?” he asked Banichi.

“Well enough,” Banichi said. “There is, indeed, no need.”

“Of course not,” Jago said.

Bren let go a long, slow breath. “He did very well, did he not?”

“He did excellently well,” Tano said.

“How is the city faring?” he asked, wondering if information was indeed getting through channels.

“Very well,” Tano said. “Very well indeed . . . a little damage here and there, simply the press of people. A bar set a television in a window, and attempted to serve drink on the walkway, and there was a complaint of disorderly conduct—it was nothing. The cards are still being distributed, from several points, and those lines are orderly.”

It was nothing. That was so much better a report than they could have feared. Algini scoured up a carafe of tea, and they kept themselves out of the way of serving staff coming and going.

“The runner has reached the Archive,” Jago remarked, listening to communications. And then: “Attendees in the hall have become curious about Jase's bodyguard. They have stayed quite still. Cenedi has sent guards to protect them.”

One could only imagine, should Kaplan or Polano grow restless and switch on a light or two. Or move. “Jase says they can rest in there fairly comfortably,” Bren said, “with the armor locked. One cannot imagine it is that comfortable over time.” He drew a deep breath. “And I should get back to the hall, nadiin-ji. Banichi, can you not sit here with Jago a while? There is absolutely no problem out there.”

Banichi drew a deep breath. “Best I move, Bren-ji.” He shoved himself to his feet and drew a second breath.

“We may find an opportunity to quit the hall early,” Bren said, “all the same. We have done what we need to do.”

He walked out into the hall, and indeed, Tabini-aiji and Cajeiri had finished their card-signing and finally had leisure to talk and visit with well-wishers.

“Bren.” Jase overtook them, and Bren turned slightly, nodded a hello to Jase and Cajeiri's young guests.

“So,” he said in ship-speak, “are you three managing to enjoy yourselves?”

“Really, yes, sir,” Gene said.

“We love the clothes,” Irene said. “And we got our own cards.”

“Treasure them,” he said. “You won't find their like again in a lifetime. Onworld, they're quite valuable.”

“Do we call him Cajeiri-aiji now, sir?” Artur asked.

“That
is
a question,” Bren said, and glanced at Banichi. “What
does
one call our young gentleman now?”

“‘Young gentleman' is still appropriate,” Banichi said, “but Cajeiri-aiji, on formal occasions; or nand' aiji, the same address as to his father.”

“Can we still call him Jeri?” Gene asked.

“Not in public,” Bren said. “Never in public. Never speaking
about
him. He'll always be Cajeiri-aiji when you're talking about him. Or the young aiji. Or the young gentleman. But what he is in private—he'll define that.”

“Yes, sir,” Gene said. And bowed and changed back to Ragi. “Nandi.”

“Jase-aiji.” Bren gave a little nod and walked on toward the dowager, who had gotten a chair, likely from the other service passage, and who was quite successfully holding court over near the dais, with a cup of tea in her hands and a semicircle of attendance, including Lord Dur and Lord Tatiseigi.

Protected, still. He was satisfied. He turned the other direction, to let that gathering take its course, and to let that pair pursue necessary politics, and saw, at a little remove, Lord Topari.

That
was not a meeting he wanted at the moment. He veered further right.

And found himself facing, at a little remove, the aiji-consort and her borrowed bodyguard.

She was looking right at him. Eyes had met. Courtesy dictated that he bow, then turn aside, but when he lifted his head, she was headed right toward him with intent, and etiquette demanded he stand there, bow a bit more deeply as she arrived, and offer a polite greeting.

“Daja-ma,” he said pleasantly.

“Are you pleased?” she asked outright.

“One is pleased that your son is so honored, daja-ma. One hopes you are enjoying the evening.”

“Is that a concern?”

She was set on an argument, and he was equally determined to avoid it. He bowed a third time, not meeting her eyes, not accepting a confrontation.

“My question was sincere, daja-ma. One apologizes if it gave offense.”

“Who killed my father?”

He did look at her, with a sharp intake of breath. “I did not, daja-ma, nor did the aiji-dowager, nor did Lord Tatiseigi, who would have received your father had he reached Tirnamardi. It is my unsupported opinion, daja-ma, that Tirnamardi is exactly where your father was going, and that the most likely person to have prevented him getting there was his uncle—your own great-uncle. Shishogi.”

Her eyes flashed, twice, luminous as they caught the light. “What do
you
know?”

“A question for us both, daja-ma: what do you know of him?”

“That you killed him.”

“I never met him. Nor did my aishid, in that context.” He saw her breathing very rapidly. “Daja-ma, are you well? There is a chair in the servant passage.”

“Why
would he kill my father?”

“Do you know, daja-ma,
who
your uncle was?”

“That is a very strange question.”

He was acutely conscious of his own aishid, of the dowager's men at Damiri's back, of a crowded hall, though they were in a clear area. “There are things that I cannot discuss here, daja-ma, but that your husband surely knows.”

“Did
he
assassinate my father?”

“Daja-ma, your husband believed he protected you in dismissing your father, who was under pressures we do not accurately know. But to my knowledge the aiji did
not
wish his death. Your father may have discovered things he may have finally decided to pass to Lord Tatiseigi, as the closest to the aiji he could reach.”

“I am weary of riddles and suppositions! Tell me what you
know,
not what you
guess!
”

“Daja-ma.” He lowered his voice as much as possible. “We are not in a safe place. If you will discuss this with some person of close connection to you, one suggests Lord Tatiseigi.”

“The dowager's closest ally!”

“But a man of impeccable honesty, daja-ma.”

“No! No, I insist on the truth from
you.
You advise my husband. And I am set at distance. I am told I shall
not
be permitted to leave the Bujavid. I cannot claim the Ajuri lordship. I cannot go to my own home!”

“Daja-ma, there are reasons.”

“Reasons!”

“Your great-uncle, daja-ma.” He kept his voice as low as possible. “I believe he did order your father's assassination. If you wish my opinion of events, daja-ma, your great-uncle plotted a coup from the hour of your son's birth. When the aiji sent him to the space station, out of reach, and in the dowager's keeping, it so upset your great-uncle's plans he launched the coup to remove the aiji, and possibly to appoint you to a regency until the succession could be worked out. But you fled
with
your husband.”

Her look was at first indignant, then entirely shocked.

“You had no idea, did you not, daja-ma?”

“This is insane! My great-uncle. My great-uncle is in the Guild.”

“He
was
in the Guild. Exactly so. And not of minor rank.”

“Ajuri is a minor clan!”

“That is no impediment. What would you have done, daja-ma, if the Guild had separated you from your husband and asked you to govern for a few months—or to marry—in a few months, for the good of the aishidi'tat.”

“You are quite out of your mind!”

“Did anyone approach you with such an idea, daja-ma?”

“Never!”

“Perhaps I am mistaken. But I am
not
mistaken about your great-uncle's support—with others—of a Kadagidi with southern ties, to take the aijinate. And one is not mistaken in the subsequent actions of your great-uncle, whose subversion of the Guild created chaos and upset in the aishidi'tat, setting region against region, constantly hunting your husband, and then trying to seize your son. A great deal of what went on out on the west coast was aimed at removing me, and the aiji-dowager—and, again, in laying hands on your son. We had
no
idea at the time. Your husband declined to bring his son back to the Bujavid, preferring to confront these people in the field rather than in the halls of the Bujavid. What he feared in the Bujavid—I do not know. But it was substantial.”

She stared at him in shock, a hand to her heart. And he was sorry. He was intensely sorry for pressing, but it was, there in a quiet nook of her son's Investiture, surrounded by his aishid and the dowager's men, the same question that had hung over her marriage, her acceptance in her husband's household.

“Your father had just become lord of Ajuri,” he said, unrelenting, “in the death of your uncle. There were, one fears, questions about that replacement which I had not heard—about which your husband may have been aware. The Guild was even then systematically withholding information from your husband's bodyguard, on the excuse that he had appointed them outside the Guild system. The heads of the Guild knowingly put your household at risk with
their
politics, of which, at that time, your great-uncle was definitely part. The Guild also withheld information from
my
aishid—more than policy, I now suspect, in a deliberate act which put my life in danger and almost killed your son. There was a great deal amiss on the west coast . . . but the threads of it have run back to the Guild in Shejidan. Realizing that, the aiji-dowager's aishid and mine began to ask questions, and to investigate matters inside the Guild, which, indeed, involved your great-uncle.
He
is now dead. Unfortunately we do not believe all his agents in the field are dead. So there is a reason, daja-ma, that the aiji has forbidden you to take the Ajuri lordship. There is a reason he, yes,
questioned
your clan's man'chi and wanted your father and his bodyguard out of the Bujavid, and you safe within it. And you should also know, daja-ma, that the aiji has since then strongly
rejected
all suggestions that your marriage should be dissolved for political convenience, insisting that you were not complicit in your great-uncle's actions. More, by retaining you as his wife, he has now placed you in a position which, until now, only the aiji-dowager has held. The aiji-dowager has questioned your motives. And I have begun to incline toward the aiji-dowager's opinion—that you
are
independent of your late great-uncle, independent also of your father, your aunt, and your cousin, and also of your great-uncle Tatiseigi. You never courted power. But power may someday land in your hands. And at very least, throughout your life, you will find not only your son, but your daughter besieged by ambitious clans. You have strongly resisted the aiji-dowager's influence. But, baji-naji, you could one day
become
her. Do not reject her
or
her allies.
Learn
from her. That is my unsolicited advice, aiji-ma. Now you have heard it.”

She was breathing hard as any runner. She stared at him wide-eyed in shock, saying nothing, and now he wished he had not thrown so much information at her, not all at once, not here, not—tonight.

“One apologizes, daja-ma. One truly does.”

“You are telling me the truth,” she said, as if it were some surprise. “You are telling me the
truth,
are you not, nandi?”

“I have told you the truth, daja-ma. Perhaps too much of it.”

“No,” she said, eyes flashing. “No, nandi, not too much.
Finally,
someone makes sense!”

“One at least apologizes for doing so here, daja-ma. Understand, too, your husband held these matters only in bits and pieces. None of us knew until a handful of days ago.”

“Paidhi,” she said, winced, breathing hard, and suddenly caught at his arm.

“Daja-ma!” He lent support, he held on, not knowing where or how to take hold of her, and Jago intervened, flinging an arm about her, holding her up.

“I think—” Damiri said, still somewhat bent. “I think I am having the baby.”

“The service passage,” Banichi said. “Gini-ji, advise security; advise the aiji.”

“What shall we do?” Bren asked, his own heart racing. “Is nand' Siegi here?”

“Call
my
physician,” Damiri said, and managed to straighten. “I shall walk. There will be time. First tell my husband. Then call my physician.”

“Two of you stay with her,” Algini said to Damiri's security: “The other go privately advise the aiji and stand by for his orders. Bren-ji, stay with us.”

Never complicate security's job. He understood. They walked at a sedate pace, Damiri walking on her own, quietly taking Algini's direction toward the service passage, past a number of people who gave their passage a mildly curious stare.

No one delayed them. They reached the doorway of the service passage, met servants exiting with food service, who ducked out of the way, startled.

“There is a chair, daja-ma,” Bren said, “should you wish. You might sit down and let us call help.”

“No,” Damiri said shortly.
“No!
We shall not stop. Call my maid. Call my physician!”

“Security is doing that, nandi,” Jago said quietly. Banichi continued to talk to someone on com, and Algini had eased ahead of them—he was up at an intersection of the corridor, giving orders to a uniformed Bujavid staffer, probably part of the kitchen crew.

“We have a lift car on hold,” Tano said.

“I am perfectly well, now,” Damiri said. “I shall be perfectly fine.”