He had not taken his watch with him on this trip. It was not part of an atevi gentleman’s dress, and he had left it, along with his computer, in Najida. There was no clock in the room.
But it seemed to him that dinner was late. He was getting hungry, and he supposed by now the dinner invitation was not going to come, but he was surprised, in that instance, that supper had not arrived in their room. He hoped Machigi’s servants were going to show up with a cart.
A stir in the hall gave him a certain hope of food.
Until he saw the attitude of his staffc grim and on alert.
He suddenly thought maybe he shouldn’t be near the door. Maybe he shouldn’t be in the room. He made a quiet move toward the door of his bedroom as whoever it was, and it sounded like several persons, came toward their door.
There was a pause, a few muttered syllables from his bodyguard, their attention all toward what was going on outside. Staff was talking to staff.
Suddenly Tano oriented toward him, while the other three stayed on strict alert, positioned so a shot incoming from the door wouldn’t find them. Tano just quickly herded him into the bedroom, and without a word—which said that they didn’t trust the monitoring—Tano snatched up his duffle, and set it on the bed.
Leaving?
He caught Tano’s eye with a questioning look, and Tano gave him the sign for someone listening, and caution.
Not good. His gun was in the dresser. He went and slipped it into his pocket, brought his linens and put them in the duffle. Tano didn’t object. Tano started hauling out clothes from the closet and packing, not with his usual neatness.
They were leaving and with luggage? It didn’t sound like an on-foot dash for the stairs and the back streets of Tanaja. It sounded as if they were going with transport of some sort.
Which argued for official cooperation.
But—damn!
The outside door opened, in the other room. Tano didn’t look surprised. He said two syllables that didn’t make sense and then signaled Bren to come with him as he led the way back into the sitting room.
Machigi was there with his guard. It was Machigi’s second trip to his room today, and it was clearly not to pass the time of day. Machigi was not looking at all happy.
“Aiji-ma,” Bren said with a courteous nod.
“ Aiji-ma! If I find you treacherous, paidhi, and a liar, expect not to live safely, not in Sarini, not in Shejidan itself. I will find you, or if I am dead, my successors will find you!”
“Kindly do me the honor of explaining the source of your displeasure, aiji-ma.”
“The sourceof my displeasure! The incursion of Shejidan Guild into Dojisigi territory, and into the Senjin Marid! Now my guard advises me we are required—required!—to vacate and allow the Ragi Guild to set up operations in mypremises! I am told to leave my people to the judgment of Guild from Shejidan. My guard says I should accept this and trustthere will not be assassinations at the whim of Shejidan or the guest under my roof! Tell me why, nandi!
Tell me why I should not shoot you with my own hand!”
“Nandi,” Banichi said. “This region is temporarily under Guild regulation. Our Guild has moved to protect you, your council, your duly constituted institutions, and your citizens. Youare officially and of this hour judged innocent. The lords of Dojisigi and Senji clans are outlawed.”
Thatwas stunning news. The Guild was suddenly cleaning house, and it was calling in every available member, on a priority above all other assignments.
Get its agents wholesale into the Marid?
Hell, yes. He figured it now. For over a year, the Guild had wanted this chance, wanted it badly, and lacked any way in to finesse the situation. And the renegades, in attempting to get Machigi out of their way, had tripped the legal switch— whether they wanted a confrontation or not.
“Our agreement is unaffected,” Bren said. “The dowager, whether knowledgeable of this event or not, has offered her condition. From here, it is nearly certain you will meet it. You will be the most powerful lord of the Marid.”
There was a space of silence. Machigi stared at him, jaw clenched.
“Who is it you represent now, paidhi?”
“You, still, aiji-ma. Until I am officially returned to the dowager or to Tabini-aiji. I had no more warning than you have had, I assure you. I doubt that Tabini-aiji was fully informed.
My immediate concern, aiji-ma, is seeing you live to govern the Marid. And right now, I trust nothing outside this room.”
Machigi stalked off a pace and looked at his own bodyguard.
“Our man’chi,” the senior of that aishid said, “is what it has been. We have taken your orders, aiji-ma. We have stood outside our Guild. We have occupied a difficult position. We have seen these intruders trying to get in. We gave our warnings. We have tried to avoid thisc”
“Warned me. You have, that.” Machigi was scantly in control of his expressions. He was that overwrought, and one didn’t move. One stood very still while a lord under seige argued with the bodyguard that was the reason he was alive. And there was a long, long silence, Machigi and the men he owed most for the situation.
“We have warned you,” the bodyguard said. “Aiji-ma, we are not securely in control of the premises. Nor are they. We face a number of hours in which, if you remain visible, you will come under concentrated attack, perhaps beyond our collective abilities to hold back. You are placing us in an untenable situation, aiji-ma.”
There was peculiar grammar in that collective. It used the felicitous unitary. It meant as one.
It meant emotional sameness.
And Machigi stood there, a muscle working in his jaw and his eyes burning into the man he relied on for his life. Then: “What do you recommend, Tema-ji?”
Banichi gave a tap at his ear, an abrupt sign that disturbed Machigi’s aishid. It meant: who is listening?
“Aiji-ma,” the guard-senior said. “Just come. Now. All of us.”
“Gods unfortunate,” Machigi said. “Paidhi. Come!”
Bren looked at Banichi. Banichi made a slight nod and the rest of his aishid moved, fast, to the back rooms, while Banichi nodded again to the man named Tema.
Positions shifted, to control the door; and it was the lords’ business to get in the center of that formation. Bren did. Machigi arrived beside him as Tano and Algini and Jago came back with, God, their luggage.
“One can part with the clothes, nadiin-ji,” Bren said.
“An inconsequential weight, nandi,” Tano said and set the bag on the floor by the table and swept the notes and notepad into it in an instant. Plus a packet of tea.
“At your direction,” Machigi said to his aishid, and reached into his coat pocket and kept it there—not, one thought, for any inconsequential item—as his aishid opened the door.
Servants stood there, faces grim and worried.
“Get to quarters, nadiin-ji,” Machigi said. “Stay there pending orders.”
The servants moved back, falling behind. Instruction would send them to the back passages, the lower rooms, where, if their doors remained shut, no action would touch them—no legitimate action. One hoped the Guild arrived here first and with minimal incident.
And it was in no good frame of mind that Machigi and his guard led the way to those same back stairs, and down and down, past startled servants who plastered themselves to the walls and heard the same grim order: “Quarters, nadiin-ji, quarters. Leave off all duties.”