Young Dur was clearly on another mission. And in a hurry. With a second bow, he headed down the hall toward the doors.
Everybody knew everything, and he just stood there feeling foolish and upset. “Nadiin,” he said to Antaro and Jegari.
“Dur-nandi spotted nand’ Bren,” Antaro said, “and his aishid has just gotten to him. Nawari has not gotten there yet, but he has called for the bus; and your father’s men are landing at the airport right now—we shall have help very soon, nandi.”
That was good news. That was a great relief, on that matter.
“But the Taisigi followed nand’ Bren,” Jegari said. “And they are about to run right into the Edi. And the lord of Dur’s plane is on his way, and some of the Gan people are with him.
They are coming in at the airport, as soon as they are clear to land; and young Dur is just now on his way to the airport to explain the situation with the Edi when his father gets here—
hoping the Gan people with his father can keep the Edi from attacking the Taisigi.”
He was too tired. Things all jumbled up together. “So what is anybody going to do?” he said.
“How can mani go to bed?”
“One doubts she actually will, nandi. One suspects she and Cenedi are going to be on the phone with your father.”
“And tell him he should dosomething?” He was in favor of that. “We shall go to the security station.” He could hardly walk, he was so tired. But walk he did.
And the first thing he heard was something about the bus.
They had just changed its orders. His father’s men had intercepted it at the intersection, and they were sending it to the airport instead.
The security station contacted Cenedi. While they stood listening, Cenedi ordered the village to send the truck out; but that was evidently at Kajiminda.
They stood there very quietly, trying to be inconspicuous.
Then Cenedi showed up, not happy, no; so something was going to happen. Fast.
***
It was as fast as a human could walk, in deteriorating boots, with blisters, and the effects of bruised ribs, but Bren put on the best effort he had in him, wading through tall grass and forcing a path past obstinate, reaching brush. Guild leathers shed the burrs and stickery seeds.
His clothes did not. He had a collection of them, of every available species.
He had had a drink of water, at least, from the canteen. Lucasi, with cracked lips, declined to share it, which won points with Jago: Jago shared her canteen with Lucasi, to the last, and that meant they were now entirely out of waterc but in prospect of it once they intersected with the road, once they met up with the busc they would be all right.
Fire was intermittent in the far distance. There seemed to be no separation of direction. It could be their angle on the situation. It could be that forces had closed on each other. They did not stay now for information.
Close call on a hidden hole; watch his damned feet, was what he most needed to do right now, and he’d been wit-wandering. Pay attention. Business at hand. He had to make it to the road, had to—
They had one locator going now, Jago’s. He saw it blip occasionally. Damnable situation.
The Guild jealously guarded its equipment, its communications, in particular. But the one contingency it hadn’t reckoned with was a schism in its own ranks, equipment compromised all up and down. Nawari was risking his neck using the thing; Jago was on passive reception, he thought; but still only one of their units was on at all, for whatever reason. They had just that one assurancec and the promise of the bus, once they got to the road.
Until Banichi, carrying the communications long-distance unit slung from his shoulder, suddenly reached for his com and listened while he walked.
Then stopped, said something in code, and stood there listening for a very brief moment before he issued another string of code and shut down.
“The aiji’s men have diverted the bus.”
“Tell them that poses a problem,” he said.
“One has said so,” Banichi said. “And Nawari objected to the move. But the aiji’s men have pulled rank.”
Higher-ranking problem. God. An order from the dowager? A direct threat to her or to Cajeiri that they were not talking about, even on Guild channels?
They were stuck. They were damned well stuck without transport. Just the van, parked back on the road in the middle of the trouble.
And the shooting was still going on back there, faint in the distance.
“Damn,” he said, and thought. “Can we get Najida?”
“One will try to arrange something,” Banichi said, and made the call, in a string of code.
They stood there, on the slant of a grassy hill, stalled, while Banichi talked in code. Guild business. Guild communications.
Damn, Bren said to himself. Damn. Damn.
“Nadi. This is the senior of the paidhi-aiji’s aishid. One requests a person in authority on an urgent matter.”
Banichi clicked off, exhaled, then indicated downslope. “We should keep going, Bren-ji.
Nawari has contacted Kajiminda, trying to get them to send word to persons in the field.
Meanwhile, he is calling Najida to ask for the village truck.”
It was going to take time. But it was hope.
Bren just started walking. So did they all. Lucasi struggled hindmost, doing his best. Tano was lagging a bit, in God knew how much pain. Algini was carrying Tano’s gear, and Jago had Lucasi’s rifle.
A few blisters? Damned well nothing. If someone had the foresight, they might bring water.
Maybe a medical kit, but they had that.
The truck. It wasn’t going to be bulletproof. It wasn’t going to have any aura of authority. But it had wheels. Wheels were better than—
Damn! Hole. He’d wrenched his ankle, not sprained it. Banichi seized his arm and kept him steady.
“One could carry you, Bren-ji.”
“Only if I slow you down,” he said, panting for breath but still going. “One can walk, Nichi-ji.”
Damn, he said to himself. Damn. Damn.
And the firing was still going on, with, suddenly, a loud thump. Something had blown up.
He kept walking, kept walking. One hill was like another, and he trusted Banichi and Jago knew where they were going. They kept him between them, occasionally half-dragged him over a gap, which hurt the ribs, but it kept them going.
Finally, finally they had to half carry him down a steep slope, and Lucasi slipped and skidded a fair distance down the gravel before Algini overtook him, hauled him to his feet and got him moving, then climbed halfway back again to steer Tano down the same steep face.
But beyond the rocks, beyond a ridge of scrub, a moving column of dust in the distance marked a vehicle coming down an unseen road.
They forged ahead, around a thorn thicket, up a little gravely, rock-centered rise, and then—
Then they saw the Najida truck coming at all the speed it could muster.
It was too good, too fraught with possibilities for things going wrong, and Bren made a desperate effort to hurry. He made it down last the gravelly slope with help from Banichi and Jago and waited by the pebbled roadside, where dusty grass struggled to survive, edge of a sparse meadow on the flat far side of the road.
The feet hurt. God, they hurt.
But the truck came on and rumbled to a stop. It was a flatbed with removable sides, and, thank God, the sides were in their sockets.
And Nawari was there with two of his unit, and Lord Geigi’s bodyguards—all of them. The driver was one of Nawari’s men—whoever had gotten the truck to Nawari was not with them.
It was all Guild, all in dusty black leather and armed, a formidable force on the Guild scale of things.