That ticked up the heart rate a bit. Bren quietly picked up the note and read it.
Certain Guild disappeared from Shejidan in Murini’s fall. Most of these, outlawed by Guild decree, entered service in the Marid, from which they trusted they would not be extradited to face Guild inquiry. Not all such are reliably in Guild uniform, and some may have falsified identities. My own presence here is known. Your mission here directly threatens the lives of these outlaws, since if Lord Machigi associates with the dowager, their sanctuary is threatened. Lord Machigi’s bodyguard is aware and is taking measures as of this hour.
Measures. When the Guild said that—there was bloodshed.
So there were high-level fugitives, then, the very highest— Guild members who, two years ago, had carried out the overthrow of Tabini-aiji and the murder of no few of Tabini’s staff, on behalf of the usurper Murini.
The Guild in Shejidan had cleaned house after Tabini’s return. Some of the people responsible for the coup had been killed. Others had run for it—mostly south, even those with no southern connections.
Outlaws. Desperate, skilled Assassins.
Machigi himself might be in increasing danger.
Should I have sent the bus off? he wondered. Here they sat, his four bodyguards isolated and out of touch with the Guild, and now with Machigi’s bodyguard evidently engaging in a purge of individuals who, until his arrival, might have assumed they had a permanent safe haven here.
Certainly the renegades would bear him no good will at all. Persons who employed them wouldn’t, either.
Andc my own presence herec was downright chilling. Whoever knew what Algini was, or had been, in the Guild, was notthe average Guild member. They were individuals possibly with very high-level skills, and were already proven to bear a very chancy man’chi to anything at all. There were a dozen atevi words for people who betrayed a service. On the one hand, they had the disposition to govern—to be aijiin. On the other— and a paper-thin distance removed from that—they had the disposition to be a problem to society.
The Guild itself was a focus for man’chi: in a sense it was a clan of its own.
But it had fractured during Murini’s takeover. It had become fragmented.
And now some of its problems were aiming at him andpotentially at Machigi himselfc with ambitions and intentions of its own.
That was not a comfortable thought. And now Machigi’s guard had found out and presumably had told Algini what Algini had just reported to him.
Nobody from Machigi’s bodyguard wanted to come here right now and explain things to the rest of them. Algini had gone outside to talk to—whoever he had talked to, and he had stayed out long enough to worry him.
Second point—Algini had written it out, not said it aloud, so it was something to be kept even from those elements of Machigi’s guard that were monitoring their conversations.
That was very worrisome.
Maybe the servants were equally suspect.
The cook they had to trust?
Damn.
Damn.
And damn.
Bloody damn it. He hadn’t expected local politics to come to a head this fast even with him stirring the pot.
But it was predictable, wasn’t it? He had come here in a pain-killered fog, upset the political situation with his brain just a little too closely focused on the good Machigi could become to the situation, and now Machigi himself had become a target.
Depend on it, Machigi’s potential enemies would have long since moved agents in on him, watchingc that went on in every noble house in the aishidi’tat. In whatever houses there had ever been marriages and associations with other houses, staff traveled, staff joined other houses, settled in—and functioned as an information network. If the lords were getting along nicely, it was two-way. Or information moved only one way if things had gone to hell.
Staff spied. That was a given. A sensible lord dismissed servants who were suspected of dual loyalties, but sometimes the most astute judge of man’chi made a mistake.
And cell phones, hell. Members of the legislature in Shejidan had been tying themselves in knots over whether to import cell phone technology from the human enclave, sure that there were benefits to be had. Hehad been trying to think of a dozen arguments against it going into public use, but atevi great houses didn’t need cell phones. Their problem was keeping information inside, not making it one step easier to disseminate. There was always the information you knew but politely weren’t supposed to know, so you didn’t act as if you knew; and there was the information your associate knew, and you knew he knew, and it was good he know, for the sake of trust, but it was just too hot for you ever to mention to him personally. Servants told other servants, who told the lords and movers, who then didn’t have to officiallyknow.
Which saved a lot of lawsuits and Guild actions, not to mention personal stress.
Machigi didn’t officiallyknow who was gunning for him at the moment, but very likely his staff was busy sussing out who it was. And if Machigi’s staff was faithfully in hisman’chi, they would be telling him all they dared, all they could, all they guessedc because theirwhole interest would be Machigi’s survival, no matter what.
The paidhi didn’t officiallyknow that he wasn’t safe under this roof, nor had Machigi officially told him—quite the opposite, actually—but nearly simultaneously Machigi’s staff had told hisstaff the paidhi was in danger, which was actually encouragingly good behavior on the part of his host’s household
Did Machigi know?
Possibly he had found out at about the same time Algini had handed him that note.
Just after Machigi’s staff had let him send Barb, Veijico, and that bus off cross-country.
And there wasn’t a damned thing he could do now.
The fact that the paidhi had initiated that request to get the bus out of here could, in the way of atevi subterfuges, make Machigi wonder how much the paidhi had specifically known.
But if you went on wondering who knew what in atevi politics, you could tie yourself in knots. It had been logical for him to want to clear the decks. He had asked. Machigi had agreed. More, Machigi’s staffhad agreed. He just had to sweat it out for the next few hours.
Letting house staff come and go in the apartment unsupervised right now wasn’t a great idea.
“And the phone?” he asked after his moment of silence.
“We shall arrange it with staff, Bren-ji,” Tano said, and added: “One assumes Cenedi may wish to receive the call— officially speaking.”
“One would expect that,” Bren said, “and I gathered our host has no objection to our speaking to him.” Cenedi, Ilisidi’s chief bodyguard, would at least listen in on any conversation—and might insist on taking the call himself to preserve the dowager’s distance from the situation.
“A moment, Bren-ji,” Tano said, and got up and went out to the hall.
“We shall be relying on our host’s hospitality,” Bren said, “since we have sent Veijico away.
I hope we shall manage to have some teacakes on hand today. That would be welcome. But use your own discretion, absolutely.”
“Your staff has necessarily become very well-read in recipes,” Banichi said with some humor. “Tano in particular is very good at detecting substances you would rather not eat. And we have a list we routinely clear with kitchens, where we have the opportunity. Shall we officially pass it to Lord Machigi’s staff?”