So Lord Geigi and mani headed upstairs to mani’s sitting room, and Cajeiri followed.
It was upsetting—mani being stubborn, and the Edi shooting at their ally. Cajeiri, for his part, was having trouble even putting on a clean coat, he was so tired. His own bed was only a step away as servants helped him dress, and he wanted just to sit on it—it was the first time he had been back in his own rooms since the shooting had started; but he had to stand up to be helped with the coat, and he had to hurry or miss something, and he was so incredibly tired; and so, he knew, were Jegari and Antaro.
But there was so much going on that he could hardly bear it. When he gathered up Jegari and Antaro and went out into the hall again, the barricade was down and sunlight was coming in the front, and whoever was supposed to go talk to the Edi must have gone; but the plane was still circling: he could hear it in the distance. He so wanted to see it again—he remembered the yellow plane as one of the most wonderful machines he had ever seen, as good as the starship in the heavens, and he was furious that the Edi were trying to shoot it.
Servants were out and about, too, and Ramaso was by the open doorway, giving orders. He went to the security station, but nobody was getting in there, and Cenedi was in the way.
He stayed and he listened, and Cenedi was giving orders—they were talking to the Edi and talking to the young lord from Dur, actually in the plane, and very hard to understand.
But then he heard Dur agree to something, and he thought that probably the plane was coming back. He went to the area of the door, and listened, and listened. The portico beyond the gap where the barrier had been was busy with mani’s young men, who were setting up another barricade, dragging panels into place.
“You should not go out there, young gentleman,” one of the servants said.
It was better than Cenedi noticing him. He drew Antaro and Jegari with him, back out of the immediate vicinity of the door, which everybody was so anxious about.
He was so tired and frustrated he sank down against the out-of-the-way part of the wall, where they had put some of the boards from the barrier. He watched out for nails, and sank down on his heels, and rested his head on his arms, and just—
—drifted off, still waiting for the young lord of Dur.
***
The convoy or whatever it was had long since ground past them, though Lucasi said he could hear it to the south of them and thought it might have stopped. It was possible they had reached the abandoned van and had a little delay figuring out whether it was rigged with explosives.
It might berigged, for what Bren knew. Tano and Algini could do that very quickly, and he couldn’t remember if they had come near the van while they were discussing what to do.
But they heard no explosion.
And it was highly possible that their enemy, failing to be blown up, was trying to figure out now where they had gone.
They might follow his bodyguard to Kajiminda, which would bring the enemy under Edi fire and complicate Banichi’s situation trying to get into Kajiminda.
Or they might decide right away that the track toward the woods was a decoy and go casting about for where they were, figuring a high-level hostage might save their situation.
Lucasi checked the locator at irregular intervals, just a fast look.
He did pick up something.
“It is not our associates,” Lucasi said. “We could be picking up Najida.”
“What about the enemy, back where we left the van? Can you tell direction?”
“One is not authorized to say.”
Damned Guild regulations, Bren thought.
And then Lucasi added, looking worried: “It may be our enemies, trying to draw a response, figuring we could take them for our allies. I must admit, nandi, that I am not an expert with this.”
At least Lucasi was not overestimating his abilities. That was actually comforting.
But the signal apparently stopped.
There had been the plane. Allies knew where they were. Or would know. Things could start to movec which itself could be a point of danger.
The sun had passed zenith. The temperature was a curious mix of cold rock, where they were sitting, and a potential for sunburn, where heat beat down from overhead. They hoarded their water, shared it very, very cautiously, and kept absolutely still.
There had been no repeat loop by the airplane. It was likely on the ground somewhere, either at the airport or at Najida, if not headed back to Shejidan airport, hours away, or down to Separti, or, God knew, some convenient patch of grass where Dur could report to somebody who could do something about the situation. One could hope things were going on, and that plans were being laid in detail—
Plans that involved the whole west coast and peace or continued war, not to mention lives saved or lost.
And here he sat, holding a good many of the keys to the situation in his head, and he wasn’t in shape to do anything. Lucasi had wilderness skills and a weapon, but he couldn’t walk far.
So they were stuck on this damned hilltop. Plans could have gone to hell. The situation was changing, with that plane involved. One hopedhis bodyguard had seen it, and had seen the convoy, and had drawn conclusionsc but if they changed plans, they couldn’t advise him, either, without advertising their presence.
He thought wildly of just taking out on his own and hiking to Najida, hiding in ditches and behind rocks, getting there any way he could, then getting on the phone there and raising hell with Shejidan until he could get them to send his bodyguard some help over at Kajiminda. If he were Lucasi’s age and had two good feetc
But he wasn’t. And the kid wasn’t in shape for it, either.
He thought of a lot of things, none that were practical, and most of which were rash in the extreme, and he knew, sensibly speaking, that a stray, pale human in run-down boots and a pale dress coat wandering through the lines of fire was just not going to end well.
But, damn it! There were a lot of entrenched opinions out there about to bump into each other and in need of the paidhi to knock heads togetherc Edi mistrust, Ragi mistrust, Marid mistrust, several clans who didn’t like each other, the Guild itself fragmented, and the Marid under attack. People were going to get killed, people he intensely cared about were in the middle of it, and he needed a damned phone.
Which—he swept a careful hand back over his hair, trying not to look any more disreputable than he already did, unshaven and dusty as he was—would ironically make a cell phone a very handy thing, except such a call could be intercepted, and he would bring the whole damned renegade force down on him and Lucasi.
So what good was that? What the damned Guild locator couldn’t do, it couldn’t do either. His ideas were running up against two facts: he wasn’t in shape to run for it, and going against his agreement with his bodyguard was far too risky. Getting shot by the Edi was no better than getting shot by the renegades.
Lucasi leaned close and indicated direction with a move of his hand. “Someone is coming, nandi.”
From the south. From the direction his people should come— but from the direction the heavy firing had come earlier.
He drew a deep breath. And Lucasi flicked the button on the locator he wore.
Green light flickered twice and went out.
Lucasi cut it off fast and looked at it as if it had been a bomb.
“Get to deep cover, nandi. Quickly!”
“What did it say, nadi?
“That was the wrong signal, nandi. We are in serious trouble. Go. Quickly.” Lucasi lurched to his feet and seized Bren’s arm, pulling him along, but it was a question who was helping whomc a damned sad situation, Bren thought incongruously, and with it came the hope the next shot he took didn’t land in the same spot.