Old enemies could become economic allies—even real and reliable allies. A bad history ceased to matter once trade was flowing and once the merchants that stood silently behind any government, providing the money, began to see their best interests meant preservation of that agreement. A leader who wanted to take unwilling merchants to war was taking on a real problem.
The paidhi-aiji made notes, more notes, and notes on notes. When he finally did get into his next face-to-face meeting with Machigi, he would have to function on memory. If he was going to carry his points and sell what he was offering, he had to have answers ready, not something he had to look up.
Most of all he had to be ready to be attacked by the advisors, and he had to be quick, polite, and convincing in his answers.
On the other side of the equation, he wishedhe knew more about the intricacies of interclan relations in the largest bay on the east coast. He knew there were problems in the district.
They hadn’t mattered because the district hadn’t mattered greatly, even in the East. Let a previously impoverished area get prosperous however, and that would roil up more trouble within the Dowager’s own territory.
But maybe it was better if he didn’t know tooc
Pop.
Boom. A vibration shuddered through the floor. A second boom shook it.
His bodyguard, sitting about the room, had heard the first sound. At the second, they calmly and quietly got up from their chairs. Banichi, on his feet, momentarily frowned, listening to something.
The paidhi-aiji did a lot better to stay in his chair and wait for a report or advisement from them. They were listening. They needed no questions from him.
And there was no other such sound, but the mind scampered over and around dire possibilities. Machigi might be a scoundrel, but Machigi being assassinated somewhere downstairs entrained a whole host of unpleasant possibilities.
Who would the successor naturally, if only publicly, blame for it?
Them.
And who could be the successor? Machigi was young and had no heirs, only a clutch of relatives, some of whom were in other ambitious clans. Civil war was likely.
Or if Machigi’s guard had been responsible for those sounds from below—were they winning or losing?
Banichi, senior of his bodyguard, was the one who would be in contact with the situation, if any one of them was.
Jago came over quietly to his chair and said, “Best you go to your room, Bren-ji.”
“Yes,” he said, and got up and walked with her back into his bedroom.
Jago shut the door, brought him the damned vest and helped him put it on, then, bending, put her lips next to his ear. “You can stay here and be comfortable for now, Bren-ji. But if trouble enters, go down the hall to our room. There is a door wedge on the table next to the door. Use it.”
He nodded, not saying a thing, not knowing who, now, could be monitoring what they said or how sensitive the pickup might be. He sat down on the side of the bed and stayed quiet, while Jago stood by the sitting room door.
It was a last ditch defense Jago was talking about. A door wedge was exactly that, one of several simple items his guard traveled with, a simple wedge designed to immobilize a door, so that anybody breaking in would not have easy access.
Barring the door in the next room could not keep him safe longer than a minute or so.
Attackers wouldn’t care about Machigi’s woodwork.
But if intruders split up, some coming after him, it could give his bodyguard maybe that one more minute, in a floor plan that, with that inner hallway, roughly described a circle. They wouldn’t all be in one place.
Jago stayed with him, standing. She was listening to something in the connection his bodyguard had with each other.
She said something, two monosyllables, the sort of coded communication Guild used for brevity. She perhaps got an answer back and kept listening intently.
So are we going to have intruders with explosives up here next? Bren wondered. He had his gun, right over there in the top bureau drawer. He was going to go over and get it if Jago in any wise indicated there was trouble coming. He’d fight forhis bodyguard, as long as there were any of them with him. If it was just him left—probably, pretty surely, he thought, he would shoot someone to protect himself. He knew for damned certain he didn’t want to become a Marid hostage, asking Tabini or the dowager to bargain to get him back.
He wasn’t sure they wouldbargain anything to get him back. And they should not. Hell of a thing, to work for years to try to knit up the fractures in the aishidi’tat and possibly to end up a pawn in the hands of the people trying to take it apart.
If that was the case down there.
Guild renegades. It was not a pleasant prospect.
Jago turned, finally, still listening, but gave him a high sign—progress.
So she was getting good news from somewhere, and if Banichi was tapped in anywhere at all, it had to be to Machigi’s guard, so if he was getting good news, it had to come from that source.
Good news, from his viewpoint, because it confirmed what Machigi’s guard had told his guard. Truthfulness on Machigi’s side was certainly good news.
It was good news, too, to think that Machigi’s guard was still alive, still out there.
And it was good news because Machigi’s bodyguard was concerned that his bodyguard didn’t decide to take him and make a break for it. Machigi’s guard could be sure they wouldn’t join any other side inside the Marid, but they could certainly mess up any plan by bolting in mistrust.
Encouraging set of thoughts.
Not definitive, but encouraging.
Jago stayed on her feet, pacing a few steps now and again, listening and not talking at all. He kept silent, watching her for any clues whether she still liked what she was hearing or not.
She was restless. She wanted to be out there. She wanted to be doing something. He knew Jago.
A fairly long time he watched that pacing.
Then Jago stopped moving.
Something was going on. He said nothing, just waited—a much longer time. Jago was staring at the other wall, at the sitting room door, as happened. And she didn’t move a muscle, a suddenly rigid black statue, armed, on a hair trigger and heeding something he couldn’t hear.
Are they coming up here? he wondered.
Are we about to defend this place?
I’d surrender to whatever happens if doing it could keep them alive.
If they were alive, I’d have options. I’d fight for them, all right. I’d fight for them my way, to do with any otherMarid lord what I’d hoped to do with Machigi.
That could work.
If I can keep themalive, I can get us allout of this.
I should get up. Go out there. Tell Banichi we’re not going to fight. Let me deal with whoever it isc
Jago shifted a foot suddenly, looked his way, meaning business. “Bren-ji. Go.”
To the other room, she meant. Bar the door.
“Jago-ji, let me deal with them.”
Fierce shake of her head.
He was getting up. It was a process, and Jago strode over and lifted under his arm. He protested. “I can deal with whoever—”