That stopped Great-grandmother for a breath, and made her look sharply toward the other room, which might be where Cenedi was.
“Also,” Cajeiri plunged ahead, because the thought had occurred to him, “if I were Machigi, and I knew we were here, I would be verysure to try to catch you, mani, and me, even if my father hasgot another heir on the way.”
Great-grandmother frowned at him, and Cajeiri decided he had just been scarily pert.
“Well,” Great-grandmother said. “Well! Is my great-grandson possessed of any otherthought?”
He bowed. That was always safest. And thought fast. “It would be good,” Cajeiri said desperately, “if Machigi came here, since they would not be attacking nand’ Bren with all their people, and wecan be ready for them.”
Great-grandmother suddenly laughed aloud, the grim lines fracturing into great delight. “Great-grandson, you have your father’s nerve and, one is very glad to see, ourwits! We have sent word to the Grandmother of Najida. We are about to call and thank your father for the extravagantfavor he has done us all at this delicate time. And we are calling in the Gan.”
“The Gan, mani-ma?” He knew about them. They were very much like the Edi, also from the island of Mospheira from when the humans landed, and they were independent like the Edi, but also allied to them, and lived on the northern coast near Dur.
“Relatives of the Edi, seafarers, who will be glad to be invited into a quarrel with the Marid. Your father will notapprove, since they will be asking for the same privilege as the Edi, an estate, a state, and a lordship of their own, but we have another strong connection to them. Do you recall the young pilot, Great-grandson, who showed up at Tirnamardi?”
“Without a doubt, mani-ma!” He was immediately excited. It had been a beautiful yellow plane, and the young pilot dashing and gallant, and he had wanted to fly, too. “He is not Gan, however, is he, mani?”
“He is not, nor is his father, but in the way Lord Geigi has represented the Edi, his father represents the Gan, and stands for them, and he will immediately see the benefit in defending us. A threat to the paidhi-aiji will bring them here, we have no doubt. So go! Consider how you and your aishid will protect nand’ Toby if we come under attack. We shall need to take shelter belowground and we have that pernicious nephew of Geigi’s in our way.”
“We could move the stored things up into the suites, mani, and clear the storerooms and then we would all fit downstairs.”
“Good! Flexibility is a commendable trait. Send me Nawari while you talk to Ramaso and have it done.”
“Yes,” he said. He had never been given an important job until yesterday; and now mani handed him one, too, and he was supposed to be in two places at once. Mani clearly was short of people to take her orders, which meant she had everybody busy.
He stopped outside, where Jegari waited with Nawari. “Gari-ji,” he said with a little bow. And another: “Nawari-nadi. Great-grandmother wants you immediately. Gari-ji, come with me.”
“Where are we going, nandi?” Jegari asked.
“We are on Great-grandmother’s business,” he announced with some satisfaction, and headed off at a quick pace.
He was not sure he could get Ramaso to do what he said, and move all the furniture. But he intended to try, without any recourse to adult authority. He had gotten fairly good at getting his way.
It was becoming useful, even to mani.
18
« ^ »
The land had begun to rise again, as the bus entered a region of white rock and ancient, weathered evergreen, under a noon sun. One sat thinking about snipers, and watching those high rocks with some misgivings.
But it was, given other information, likely that those rocks were already cleared, and occupied by Tabini’s forces. One didn’t ask—only trusted that if their bodyguard were in the least suspicious, they would all be sitting on the floor.
Then the roofs of a village appeared in the distance—reminder that whatever force they could bring to bear, Maschi clan territory had a fair population. This village would belong to an affiliated clan, the Pejithi, who lived their lives and conducted their commerce with the capital, and likely with the Marid.
In the distance, around a bend in the road, and past an intersection with a better-used market road, rose a different outline, the sprawling roofs of a noble house of that same white stone, a noble house surrounded by a ruined remnant of its fortified walls, sign of great antiquity in this region.
Nowadays the breached walls, interspersed with zig-zag rail fence, would simply be keeping wandering herds of game out of the formal gardens that showed in those gaps. It was a picturesque house, with its two standing towers and its curved tile roof, a regional style. The television antenna somewhat spoiled the effect.
Lord Geigi stirred from his nap, or his pretense of one, even rising from his seat for a moment’s better look out the front window.
“I have not seen Targai since I was a boy,” Geigi said to Bren. “It has not changed. Not visibly. Except for the antenna. And the power lines.”
One of Geigi’s bodyguard said: “Best sit down, nandi. For safety.”
Geigi sat down. The bus kept up its steady pace toward the gate.
At any moment, literally at any moment, they might come under fire. And as yet nobody had said that the non-Guild among them should get down on the floor.
“Should one not get down at this point?” Bren asked Jago.
“We have surveillance on the grounds, Bren-ji. But if you would feel safer, do so.”
“The aiji’s men are already here?”
Jago shrugged. It fell under the heading of not discussing Guild operations, but one began to regard those ancient towers in a different light. He had the very uncomfortable vest on—leaving his head vulnerable, but that was, he hoped, a significantly smaller target, and one did not expect the paidhi-aiji to be wearing body armor.
He sat where he was, behind opaque windows, as the bus pulled into the drive and trundled on around to the great house.
A pair of Guildsmen in black exited the house—placing themselves in great jeopardy. And if those were not the aiji’s, Bren thought, his pulse racing a bit, they were likely native to the region, and deeply loyal, to be exposing themselves like that—granted they knew about the Filing.
Their own situation was potentially looking up—or getting far worsec because that brave gesture of peace politely required another, reciprocal gesture, which—he felt a rising tide of apprehension—had to come from Guild of similar rank, unless they meant to wade in shooting.
The bus braked. Banichi and Jago got up, and Bren bit his lip and knewwho had to deal with this welcoming committee.
He leaned forward, himself. “Nadiin-ji,” he said. “Tell Lord Pairuti he has a safe refuge with the paidhi-aiji if he will take it. Tell them so, urgently.”
Jago listened, then inclined her head once, grimly, before the door opened and she followed Banichi off the bus—Tano and Algini taking up position with leveled rifles behind them in the doorway thus exposed.
The bus door faced the welcoming committee. There were weapons in evidence on the other side, but not drawn.
And wherever Tabini’s men were, it was not, at the moment, here, where such a threatening presence would have been very useful.
One of the pair said—Bren could hear it clearly: “Stand there, nadi.”