It should have been exciting. But with people hurt and nand’ Bren out there trying to get home, it was just scary.
Staff had brought them breakfast, because he had scattered the last breakfast all over the upstairs hall.
But his stomach was too upset to enjoy it.
Nand’ Bren could not possibly make it here in the way he indicated he was going to do. But, he thought, with a tasteless bite of toast, nand’ Bren could be very clever, and maybe what he had told them he was going to do was not at all what he was going to do.
He dared not ask, however. Credit with mani went only so far. He just sat and ate tasteless toast, so tired his eyes were trying to shut.
But every time they did, he saw the man pushing his way into mani’s room, and he saw the man turning to look at him and aiming the rifle. Over and over and over.
He was not going to sleep, no matter he had been up all the night and was shivering he was so exhausted.
Not on thatkind of dream.
***
The sky lightened under a spatter of rain, and the van’s right-hand windshield wiper wasn’t working but halfway. The road passed near a small forest as the rim of the sun came up under the cloud. Morning light cast long shadows, picking out every clump of grass and lump of dirt, while rain fell down as a fine mist.
Banichi slowed the van to a stop, said something to Jago, and got out.
Break for necessities in a relatively secure place, Bren thought. Tano got up and opened the door, and Algini got out, and then Lucasi followed, and Bren did.
It was more than that, however. Banichi and Algini talked for a moment, Tano added himself to the conversation, and then Jago did, a close conference in which Lucasi hung back, sensing himself not included, perhaps, until Banichi said, “Guildsman.”
Lucasi limped forward with some speed and quietly joined the conference.
That left Bren, the civilian, leaning against a young tree, resting, and with the distinct impression there was some discussion going on that Banichi didn’t think he would necessarily approve of.
Like leaving him behind again. He saw that coming. But it made a certain sense. If it contributed to their safety, he would hide in whatever hole he had to and just wait.
None of them had had any significant sleep except Lucasi. Banichi had been driving nonstop, refusing Jago’s offer to take the wheel, and by now he had to be exhausted.
And now they proposed to go do something desperate and didn’t think he needed to be part of the planning—as if he could penetrate the code or get more than a handful of the signs they were using even if he were standing over there in the middle of it. There were things they needed to say in Guild context, with meanings an outsider wasn’t going to grasp without a half hour of explanation, and even so—probably wouldn’t like. He was increasingly sure he was not going to like the outcome.
There were nods. “Yes,” Jago said, and Tano, and then Lucasi nodded, too, so Lucasi was in on it.
Bren waited, glumly. And it was Banichi who came to him.
“Beyond this point,” Banichi said, “there will be difficulty, Bren-ji. The van is far too noisy, far too obvious a target to bring straight down the Kajiminda road. We would do better to leave it, get a rescue party organized from Kajiminda—not taking for granted it is still in allied hands—and you cannot keep our pace, either getting there or getting out, if need be.”
“You want me to stay here,” he said.
“You will have Lucasi,” Banichi said, “and he will be armed and equipped with a locator. He is young. He will, however, suffice for a simple mission. We expect the Edi will have camped around Kajiminda, that this is a force the renegades have not wanted to take on, adding one more enemy to their difficulties— and that they have remained unengaged. But equipped.
The difficulty is that they will be looking for Guild and not expecting us to be on their doorstep. We are going to have to get through and make a careful approach. If we can, we can get back here, bring you to Kajiminda, and then make a little noise.”
“To draw the renegade attack away from Najida. To bring the renegades under Edi fire.”
Banichi nodded. “Your own excellent notion, Bren-ji, somewhat reworked. Considering your recent negotiations with Machigi, you directly threaten them, perhaps more, to their perception, than the aiji-dowager. Be patient and stay hidden. The van would be more comfortable a place for you to wait, but we advise you put as much distance between yourself and the road as you can. The trees in the other direction are an obvious line of retreat and an obvious ambush for anyone who sees the van as bait. We intend that they be cautious and slow in their investigation should they come here. Lucasi has instructions. You may listen to his advisements—up to a point.”
“Yes,” he said. “Just—” One could argue that it might be safest of all for them allto retreat into the wild and stay there until the Guild finished its business in this district. But that didn’t help their allies. He’d offered an idea, sleep-deprived and exhausted; and they, likewise on no sleep, had taken it. Which worried him. “Be careful, Nichi-ji. I want you back. I want you all back. One is quite adamant on that point.”
Banichi said: “We always are careful, Bren-ji. Rely on us.”
And then Banichi left him, headed into the trees. Jago, departing, gave him one backward glance. Algini didn’t—just picked up their gear. Only Tano, at the last moment, came back and gave him his canteen, then went off to catch up with Algini, the lot of them making, one suspected, a cautiously obvious trail.
Banichi had parked the van, however, on a small dome of sandstone, and it was clearly up to them to get out of here without laying down obvious tracks in the other direction.
Bren looked in Lucasi’s direction. “We should go, nadi.”
“One will try not to leave marks,” Lucasi said. “But kindly walk atop my track, nandi.”
Lucasi settled his makeshift crutch and limped off around the van, passing over an area where there was a muddle of footsteps in a patch of dirt that overlapped the sheet of buried rock atop which the van was parked.
He understood the game clearly enough. Walk on the rock, leave no track, while Banichi and the rest laid down just enough trail to be followed—and believed—by experts.
The one they laid down had to be far, far harder to find; he understood that. Lucasi was walking without his stick, hobbling along, probably in considerable pain, on what rapidly became a climb toward the rocky heights, the rugged upthrust of the plateau, on the edge of the coastal lands. On that steep climb, Lucasi stopped now and again and plotted his path; he finally found a place where the occasional rock became a lower, flatter spot and where a straggle of brush grew from the underside of low, body-sized shelves of rock.
Lucasi sat down, immediately bent over and struggling with pain. Bren sat down. They had climbed well out of view of the road—either road, since the Kajiminda to Separti road crossed that same patch of woods to the south.
He wished they had the strength to keep going just a little higher.
But they had to stay findable, didn’t they, by their own side? Lucasi’s face was running with sweat. He didn’t speak, he didn’t complain.
Hadn’t he sworn never to interfere with his bodyguard or get in their way? This whole stratagem had started with his idea. Granted, four very astute bodyguards had accepted the notion, but it still had his fingerprints on it, and he’d sworn, while being picked up off the floor at Targai, never, ever to interfere with his bodyguard again.
Thatvow hadn’t lasted long, had it?