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No little brother was going to get ahead of him, ever.

3

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Tabini-aiji did notpay a visit to Lord Geigi’s nephew Baiji, in the basement. Nor did he linger for tea, let alone lunch.

In the main, Bren could surmise, this had nothing to do with Tabini’s irritation at the local situation, and was entirely due to security concerns and the insistence of his bodyguard. The less time the aiji spent in this chancey region, the better his bodyguard would like it—and, unhappy truth, the better the Edi residents of the area would like it, too. Ragi clan atevi, which the aiji was, moving in with orders and decrees and consequent upheavals and relocations, was the unhappy history of the Ragi clan with the Edi people and their northern cousins the Gan. The Edi district remained as skittish about the aiji’s actions as they were about Marid plots. Tabini, being no fool in such matters, and his guard likewise, they had kept his presence quick and relatively quiet.

What would be noted among the Edi and other observers was that Tabini’s son had stayed, evidently with the blessing of his father, and his grandmother Ilisidi stayed, and the paidhi-aiji stayed, all with their Guild bodyguards, all of them having already established a dialogue with the Edi at some little cost of life and current risk to themselves.

That, Bren hoped, would resonate clear up the coast to the Gan, who were very likely following the proceedings here with some interest.

It would resonate southward, too, around the curve of the coast to the bottom of the continent, where the Marid, that little aggregate of five clans around a deep bay—a little private sea—had strung out a long history of conspiracy, internecine warfare, and general ferment. Members of the aishidi’tat? They were. But enemies of the aishidi’tat? They always had been.

So he could look for his Bujavid apartment back. Soon. The Farai could start packing and take themselves back to the Marid, ending any pretense of negotiations and new agreements for that region. That was one good thing to come out of Tabini’s visit. Given current circumstances, the Farai might get nervous enough to quit the premises without the aiji ever saying a thing. Thatwould be nice.

And under other circumstances, he would intend to be back in the Bujavid in short order—except for the matters he had inadvertently stirred up on the coast, namely the restof the business that the Farai and their fellow Marid were involved inc

Namely the plot to marry into Lord Geigi’s clan and inherit Lord Geigi’s estate— withits property rights and treaty privileges on the west coast.

The defunct Maladesi clan, through which the Farai claimed that prime Bujavid apartment, had also been the previous owners of Najida. One wondered, one truly, truly wondered whatever had made the Farai hesitate to claim the estate as well during Murini’s days in power.

Possibly a little reluctance on the part of Murini, himself from the central clans, to have the Farai, and thus the Marid, get too powerful too fast? The Farai had already claimed the Bujavid apartment. Maybe Murini had rebuffed their more important claim to the old Maladesi west coast estate—or told them to wait for that.

Maybe Murini had had enough common sense not to want to stir up the Edi in his first year in power. If the Edi-Murid feud had gone nova, Murini would have had his most important ally, the Marid, distracted with that old quarrel—and having the Marid’s main force pinned down in a guerilla war would have weakened Murini’s hold on the capital, and thus on the aijinate. It had been rumored, at the time, that Tabini was dead. It had been rumored, at the time, that Tabini’s heir was lost somewhere in the heavens along with the aiji-dowager and the paidhi-aiji and never would come back—but there would have been claimants soon enough, if Murini had at any point looked distracted.

Timing, timing, timing. Contrary to Murini’s expectations, the dowager had returned from space, Tabini had launched his counterattack on Murini, and Murini had gone down to defeatc beforethe Marid had wormed their way into their hearts’ desirec namely the west coast.

So—with Murini gone—the Marid had just kept working toward their goal while trying to stall Tabini with promised new agreements. The marriage offer to Baiji predated Tabini’s return to power: so the Marid had been quietly pursuing their objective regardless of who sat in power in Shejidan. Murini might not have known what they were up to, offering Geigi’s foolish nephew a Marid wife, or had turned a blind eye to it because he did not want a public break with his allies.

But certainly the Edi had understood what was going on. The Edi servants in Baiji’s house had found a stream of Marid agents visiting the estate—agents who had set up shop in the township that neighbored the estate. Agents who had evaporated following the failed attempt on the paidhi-aiji’s life—and now were rumored to have set up again.

Tabini’s men were, one hoped, discreetly ferreting out that little nest, which had fled from Kajiminda estate down to Separti Township.

Possibly the Edi people were helping the aiji’s men find those cells—though one doubted it: the Edi historically had blamed the Ragi for the treaty that had lost them their homeland, over on Mospheira, and they had only marginally attached to the aishidi’tat. The old, old resentment had never died, and they particularly did not cooperate with the Assassins’ Guild.

Which made it all the more remarkable that the Edi people had approached both the paidhi and Tabini’s grandmother— herself an Easterner, from another region dragged somewhat unwillingly into the continent-spanning modern state.

So Tabini had just paid a personal visit? The Edi would have known it even while it was in progress. The paidhi had absolutely no doubt of that—since there were Edi servants under this roof. They would know, they would be concerned, and they would certainly have an opinion, based on whatever those servants reported, which might well be the whole content of the conversation with Ilisidi—the conversation had hardly been quiet.

Considering the fragility of lines of communication just ever so tentatively reopened, it did seem a good idea to be sure the Edi did not feel the paidhi had been communicating their closer-held secrets to the aijic in a conversation which had been much lower key.

So the paidhi went out into the hall and located, with no trouble at all, his majordomo, Ramaso, who was his most reliable link to the Edi. Ramaso was standing between the servants’ wing and the dining hall, a high traffic area in the house, and a very convenient place to watch who came and went in the main halclass="underline" its view included the master suite, the library, the office, the dining hall, and the doors to all the guest suites and formal bath.

Not an accident, that position: Ramaso kept himself informed on all sorts of matters: it was his job to do that. And Ramaso very politely bowed when accosted. His dark face was absolutely innocent of motive, which was to say, expressionless, in the best formal fashion.

“Rama-ji,” Bren said. “This has been an interesting morning.”

“Indeed, nandi.”

“The aiji asked no questions into Edi business. His visit seems a signal, and the aiji’s specific decision not to pull his heir back to Shejidan seems so, too. He knows the contact with the Edi people took place and knows what was said. Tell the Grandmother that. If the Edi wish to meet formally again, their neighbor the paidhi would be willing to come to the village— or we would welcome the Grandmother or her representative here, should she wish.”