Damn, he’d so desperately needed time and resources; and Barb and Toby and Veijico and the missing kid, Lucasi, all kept nagging at his mind.
But they were all side issues. They had to be. If he couldn’t work his way through the minefield of Marid relations with the rest of the aishidi’tat in the next hour, at least in some tentative way, they could die, all of them, first strike in a general war.
And he wouldn’t bet he knew how Machigi’s mind worked, not by a long shot.
Well, but he’d wanted a chance to talk to him. He had it.
He went to his bedroom in the few moments left, and sat down for a few private moments, at least, trying to get his domestic worries out of his mental circuits.
He stayed there until a knock on the door announced and Jago’s entry advised him Machigi’s escort had shown up.
“Nandi,” Jago said, all formality now.
“Yes,” he said, and went out to the sitting room, where Banichi and the others waited. The outer door stood open, and two of the local guard were waiting for him. He didn’t look at Barb.
And Barb, who wouldn’t have understood above three words of anything anybody was saying, plaintively asked where he was going.
“Business conference,” he said, still not looking at her, not wanting to make her the focus of a scene in front of the guards, and walked out, Banichi and Jago in close company with him.
***
Machigi elected to receive his guest in a large sitting room, this time with his Minister of Affairs, Gediri, present, along with two other persons, one a plump, bespectacled, middle-aged woman, the other a grim fellow of like age with part of an ear missing. The woman was, Machigi said, Adien, his Minister of Trade and Transport, and the half-eared man was Masitho, his Minister of Information.
There were, necessarily, bows and acknowledgements. Banichi and Jago had taken their places at the door, with eight others of the Guild. Bren personally bet that two of them—
besides the two attending Machigi, ones he recognized from the last meeting—were attached to the Minister of Information: they had Masitho’s kind of look, suspicious and hungry, and not an encouraging sort of attendance in the meeting. Banichi and Jago, though armed like the rest, were seriously outnumbered.
But Bren put on a moderately pleasant, noncommittal expression, bowed, and sat down. He was, he knew, in no position to dictate the agenda for the meeting. He still had to read Machigi, and read him carefully, so he was quite content for now to let Machigi take things in his own direction, without trying to steer him at all. It was a good guess that Machigi likely knew even less, psychologically speaking, about him as a human than he knew about Machigi as atevi.
But it was also a fairly good guess that Machigi had been brought up to want every human on the planet dead, and not to give a damn about human ways and mores. This whole region tended to that opinion.
Machigi was the youngest of the present company, by no few years. He was reputed to have great intelligence and ruthlessness—a young man whose enemies had great reason to worry and whose advisors, however powerful, had better not exceed his patience.
That was certainly the personal impression he gave. He was a handsome fellow—dark gold eyes gave his face a somber cast, making it hard to see what he was thinking. An old scar slanted across his chin. That had been no minor injury.
There was the customary round of tea, a little pleasantness— of a sort.
“We understand you are injured, nandi,” Machigi said. “If you have need of a physician or medicines, please advise my staff.”
“Your graciousness is appreciated, nandi.” In fact, it was the last thing he wanted to advertise. Nor did he want to take drugs provided by Machigi’s staff.
“Nothing is broken, one hopes.”
“Bruised, only, nandi. I thank you for your courtesy.” They had likely gathered their information from the bugs upstairs, not a surprise. They might suspect he was on painkillers and therefore at some disadvantage. “It slows me a little, but not excessively. ” He took a chance and added: “Your erstwhile neighbor, for some reason, saw fit to attempt my life. One is obliged to report, nandi, that Lord Pairuti is no longer your neighbor.”
Brows lifted. Machigi took a final sip of tea and set his cup aside. “Indeed. So Lord Geigi of Kajiminda has now claimed the lordship?
“For the moment, nandi, Lord Geigi is indeed in charge. I understand he wishes to settle the responsibility on some other individualc” Bren set his own cup aside and said, deliberately,
“But Lord Geigi is lately embarrassingly short of relatives.”
There was about one heartbeat of deathly silence. Then Lord Machigi laughed, a silent laugh that began to be a grin, giving that grim face an astonishingly boyish lookc considering they were talking about murder.
“Is he, now?” Machigi asked. “And what does one suppose he will do about it?”
Geigi’s one marriage had not been a success, either in the production of an heir nor in personal relations with his Marid wife. Geigi’s late sister had ruled Kajiminda in Geigi’s absence. Her untimely demise had promoted her fool of a son, Baiji, to lordship at Kajiminda.
And the assassination and Baiji’s lordship were both plausibly Machigi’s doing—or the plan of one of the advisors in this room.
“One thinks it likely Lord Geigi will appoint an interim lord at Targai and then go back to space. He has a very comfortable residence there.”
“Of what people will he appoint a successor at Targai?” Machigi asked, and he was not laughing.
“If one had to guess, likely Peijithi clan, nandi.” That was the subclan of the Maschi, inland folk, not, as might be a great concern to Machigi, the coastal Edi people, neighbors to Geigi’s personal estate at Kajiminda—who were moving into a position of authority there, a fact that Machigi might or might not know. “But I have a certain knowledge of Lord Geigi. One is very certain he will discourage any border disputes from his side. It is the aiji’s policy; it is the aiji-dowager’s policy, and it is certainly my own wish as another of your neighbors.”
“Ah,” Machigi said, as if he had forgotten something and only just remembered it—which one didn’t at all believe. “We have had a response from Shejidan this morning.” A pause, deliberate, judging effect. Bren kept his face absolutely under control and managed, he hoped, to look confident.
“One trusts it was a favorable answer, nandi,” he said.
“We are informed Tabini-aiji’s Filing against us is rescinded,” Machigi said. “We are still awaiting word on the other Guild matter.”
“One hopes that may have as favorable an outcome, nandi.”
“Do you think that it will?” Machigi asked.
“One has no reason to believe it will not, nandi.” The other Guild matter: outlawry. It was clearly the one Machigi should be most worried about and, involving the whole machinery of the Guild, the one hardest to get stopped. “You have the dowager’s statement of her own position. Tabini-aiji tends to listen to her. And the Guild will take this move of his into account, one is sure.”
“You are sure of a great many things.”
“Of a few central things, nandi, among them the purpose of the aiji-dowager in sending me here. And the likelihood that you are not necessarily our adversary.”
Machigi leaned back in his chair. “You have had a long and close relationship with the aiji-dowager.”
“Yes, nandi.”
“Yet you serve the aiji, her grandson.”
“Quarrels between them are far fewer than reported.”
“Has she possibly sent you here without consultation with her grandson?”