So they were the only possessors of the hall, now. And the whole house grew very quiet for a moment.
Then shooting erupted outside, somewhat to the rear of the house, and again from the roof right over their heads. Footsteps sounded on the ceiling.
Attics. Attics in this district were a hazard, and this house, like Najida, like Kajiminda, was in the peak-roofed, sprawling style that had a full reach up there. Bren cast a worried look up, tracking that sound.
“They are ours up there, nandi,” Tano said then.
That was a relief. What was going on out on the grounds was another matter. Fire kept up.
And their chances of finding Barb alive grew less and less—if she had ever been here in the first place.
One had, lifelong, become philosophical about Tabini’s little surprises. Bren had told himself repeatedly it was how Tabini stayed in power. It was the way atevi managed things, and it was not the paidhi’s place to critique it. The paidhi, however, hadaccepted appointments—had risen as high in politics as it was possible to rise, infuriating Tabini’s opposition, astonishing his supporters.
And here he was, having involved himself in a district where peace had never existed, not since the War of the Landing, when the Ragi atevi agreement to pull two aboriginal peoples off Mospheira and settle them on this coast had thwarted their own major rivals, the Marid, in their grab for the same coast.
A quiet district, yes, under the threat the central region posed to any breach of order; but not peace, nothing like peace.
And the paidhi-aiji had been oblivious to the undercurrents sweeping toward an attack on the Marid, despite Tabini’s personally reconnoitering the region, despite Tabini’s curious engagement with his grandmother on the topic of Edi sovereignty. The paidhi-aiji had gone on assuming Tabini was going to stay out of it and just let his grandmother make her peaceful deals.
And it was Tabini, of course, who had givenhis resident human an estate in the plain middle of an old, volatile situation.
Tabini might well have known the district was a tinderbox when he’d cleared Bren to leave the capital and go vacationing on the coast. Tabini claimed not to have known. But that was not guaranteed to be the truth. Tabini was completely capable of sending somebody in to stir the pot.
God, at the moment he so wished he’d just gotten a hotel in town.
Another burst of gunfire, right out front. He hopedTabini’s men were enough. This was not a good position, standing here in the front hall with the doors open.
Better than standing out there in the bushes, however.
And Geigi—he threw a look Geigi’s direction and caught a grim expression. Hell of a homecoming, all around, first at Kajiminda and now at Targai. Geigi and Geigi’s bodyguard surely had their own sentiments about Tabini’s actions—a human was not, possibly, wired to understand precisely that mix of emotions, the profound draw of man’chi toward Tabini and those aggressive urges of a born leader—literally, a born leader—and the draw of their own duty to Pairuti, who’d made a hash of his leadership of their clan. Grasp what a clash of emotions was going on in Geigi? Probably. Intellectually, he could.
Feel it the way Geigi felt it, in his gut? Not likely.
Have a clearer head than Geigi did at the moment? He might well. He didn’t trust that gentle Geigi wouldn’t order somebody shot.
It had gotten quieter outside all of a sudden. That was either good or bad. If bad, they were in the next place trouble would arrive.
“Nadiin-ji,” he said very quietly. Tano and Algini were on high alert, watching any movement down the long hall, where Banichi and Jago, nearly back to back, were directing men probing other hallways. “How are we doing out there?”
“The aiji’s men have the roof and the tower,” Tano said, “and are reporting no movement on the grounds.”
That was a relief. “Barb-daja. Any sign?”
“No, Bren-ji,” Tano said. “Regretfully, not yet.”
“The resistence is partly local,” Algini said from behind him, without losing his concentration. “Partly outsider. Marid, likeliest, the first shot, that hit the man out front.”
Thus starting a firefight—since all the local Guild, aware of the Filing, were going to assume they were under active attack. Their incursion had had everything under control, they’d been about to draw Pairuti out under a safe conduct and the local Guild had been taking it slowly, trying to get the best possible situation for their lord.
And then somebody had fired and hit probably the Guild senior of Pairuti’s bodyguard, maybe not even aiming at Banichi. The Marid would be completely willing to see the place shot up, Pairuti silenced, his honest Guildsmen dead, and things in as big a mess as they could possibly be.
That added up to Marid infiltration. Pairuti had let these people in, the same way Baiji had done, and they’d taken over, the way they’d taken over Kajiminda.
After a long period of maneuvering to get himself in the right in public opinion, Tabini now had a provocation that would be evident to the whole world.
With his own grandmother right in the middle of it.
Maybe for once Tabini had even surprised Ilisidi. Thatwould be a first in planetary history.
Deep breath. Tabini also trusted the paidhi-aiji wasn’t going to get himself killed to no particular advantage. Tabini expected his people not just to sit still in whatever situation he’d engineered them into.
Damn him.
“Where is Pairuti at the moment, Tano-ji?” he asked.
“We believe, in the sitting room, nandi. But we have not gone in there yet.”
“I need to reach him. I want him alive, Tano-ji.”
Tano threw him a look.
“Pairuti can stop this,” Bren said. “At least where it regards local Guild. Can he not? And he has things to say, in court. We need him alive.”
“Yes,” Tano said abruptly, order taken; he relayed that to Algini, whose attention was fixed on the hall, and Algini nodded abruptly in the affirmative. Communication drew a look from Banichi, and then from Jago, who nodded her own agreement. Geigi looked momentarily confused.
No time to think, then: Tano seized Bren by the arm and jerked him past Banichi, down the hall, with one of Geigi’s men racing to the fore of them. His gun swung down, his burst of fire shredded the woodwork around the door lock—his kick opened it, and that man whipped around the door to the inside.
Fire erupted from inside—Bren had started to follow, and Tano snatched him back before he had so much as twitched. Then Jago appeared from the hall behind them, her gun spitting a volley of bullets as she went inside.
There wasn’t time to say help her—Tano shoved him against the wall and dived to a knee, rifle around the edge of the doorframe. Then got up. Geigi’s man came into view, moving sideways, rifle still leveled, and Bren’s heart skipped a beat, seeing Jago standing in the clear.
“We have him, nandi,” Tano said, urging him forward, into the room; and Bren swore to himself he would never, ever, ever issue another order to his bodyguard.
The room was a shambles, three bodies on the floor, blood everywhere, openwork screens flattened and shattered by gunfire, and a lone survivor in a brocade coat standing amid the carnage, a white-haired, lanky aristocrat looking not at all related to Lord Geigi.
“Lord Pairuti,” Bren said, mustering a breath. “Surrender and I can keep you alive. Do not do this to your staff. They rely on you, nandi.”
The man turned away, looking ceilingward, seeming distracted.