Ilisidi did arrive, together with Cajeiri—a presence which might not have happened among humans, but it by no means surprised him that the heir was here. Cajeiri had his own reasons for being here, getting news firsthand—had his right, that was the point.
“Aijiin-ma,” he said, the plural, and rose and bowed to both arrivals in this formal setting, receiving a courtesy in return as Ilisidi settled in a fragile chair. A swing of her cane indicated a chair beside her for her great-grandson. The several of them made a triangle of chairs with Lord Geigi’s, as that stout lord took a more substantial seat.
Tea was the order, then, all around, solemnly served, solemnly accepted, a few sips drunk. Ilisidi’s countenance was unreadable; Cajeiri’s was solemn, quiet—if there had been words of comfort, they had been said in private. If there was lingering disturbance, it was evident only in the absence of light in the boy’s eyes. The young chin was set. Hard.
A full cup down. A second served.
“We shall hear it,” Ilisidi said then, and Lord Geigi lowered his cup, cradling it in his hands, and said, solemnly,
“The rebels said no word, offered no argument in advance of their move, and there was no provocation ever stated. Lady Cosadi of Talidi province had turned up in residence in the Bu-javid—” That was the center of government, the residence of every lord at court. “Accepting guests into the Tasigi residence.”
It was her right to bring in guests. It was always the most difficult challenge to Bu-javid security. The Talidi side relations were lucky to have survived the last dust-up in the aishidi’tat. They had lived and taken their place under Tabini’s tolerance.
“Cosadi,” Ilisidi said. “Is that the beginning of this tale?”
“Yes,” Geigi said shortly. “Cosadi.”
Daughter of the late Sarini of the Marid Tasigin, of Talidi province: bad blood from the beginning—involved in one conspiracy already. And Tabini had been an enlightened ruler, and had not cut their throats.
“Mercy has its reward,” Ilisidi said darkly. “Guests, is it? Who was scrutinizing these people?”
“That we by no means know,” Geigi said. “Nor have I heard any particular blame laid on house security in the matter, nor would expect to, given who is now in charge. But it was reputedly through Cosadi that Talidi of various ill dispositions gained access to the residencies. Certainly she now stands close to the lord of the Kadigidi, who has proclaimed himself aiji in your grandson’s place.”
“Murini?” Quietly asked, and a thunderstroke when Geigi said:
“The very one.”
“Go on,” Ilisidi said, and calmly had a sip of tea.
Murini, son of the former traitor, Direiso, who had conspired with Cosadi’s father to break the south and midlands out of the aishidi’tat. Murini, who had taken refuge with Cajeiri’s great-great-uncle in the last troubles, and under that roof had proclaimed himself unswervingly loyal to Tabini. Murini had risen, after Direiso’s death, and with Tabini’s blessing, to be head of the Kadigidi clan.
Now Murini thought he would turn coat and rule the Association, with Cosadi’s help.
There was a scoundrel from way back, Bren thought, one that had masqueraded as a victim of Direiso’s plots, and an ally of the ruling house.
But, more troubling still, was the fact that Murini had sheltered with the Atageini during Direiso’s uprising, and might maintain ties there. Cajeiri, having Atageini blood in his veins, now posed a serious problem to any claim Murini might make on Atageini loyalty. So great-great-uncle Tatiseigi, if his loyalty to Tabini had wavered toward that wretch Murini, now would find his own ambitions drawing him back to Tabini’s side… if only in Murini’s perceptions.
Tatiseigi’s life was therefore in danger. And so was Murini’s, from Tatiseigi, a canny and long-surviving man with resources of his own.
So had Murini that firmly decided the ship would never return, and that Tabini’s grandmother and Tabini’s son and heir would never survive the trip?
Certain significant people seemed to have relied heavily on that belief.
Or perhaps they had hoped to have everything so firmly in their hands before the ship got back that Ilisidi would necessarily arrive in a nest of enemies.
The rebels had not been able to get into orbit and take the station from Geigi, at least, and it might be because they thought they would not succeed—likely not, in unfamiliar territory, under unanticipated conditions, and involving the Mospheirans and the ship’s crew that had stayed with Ogun. But it might also be that Tabini hadn’t been taken utterly by surprise—because he refused to believe the alternative, that the rebels would have been at all content to have Geigi stay alive and powerful on the station…
God. His mind raced. He sipped his tea and tried to listen to the meticulous details.
“This is how it happened,” Geigi said. “There had been disturbance in the provinces, certain assassinations attempted but thwarted, nothing at all unprecedented, much of it allegedly personal feuds breaking out in related sequence. Your grandson seemed to have weathered that storm, though there was active debate in the legislature and numerous petitions in court and before the Assassins’ Guild, for the redress of perceived wrongs in the south—down where Direiso’s failed rising had of course robbed the district of resources and projects they could have had. The recent turn of weather harmed the fishing industry. Your grandson the aiji had of course sent relief and organized construction work in that area, and this quieted the unrest, but agitators carried out sabotage and other acts, including murders and arson, to disrupt the construction and keep the population in unrest. Your grandson accordingly filed with the Assassins’ Guild to take extreme action against certain of the perpetrators, and this was an ongoing debate in the Guild, where members from Talidi province employed various parliamentary tricks, ploys to stall the issue. This was the background of the night of the attack. Your grandson and his consort were safe in Taiben, but Talidi assassins passed the doors of the aiji’s apartments in Shejidan, with loss of life among them, to be sure, but certain of the aiji’s bodyguard and his majordomo were killed in the act.”
Edo. Bren’s heart sank, mourning that genteel, gentle man.
“The whole Bu-javid was thrown into confusion, doors sealing, various security staffs taking measures to protect their own households, and two, the Corisi and the Canti, who were currently feuding, each going after each other in the assumption it was an attack from the other side. Your grandson and his consort were nowhere to be found, and the rumors they were dead were an early encouragement to the Kadigidi, but the aiji reappeared to the west, three days later, organizing various actions aimed at the south and attempting to rally support to Taiben. Unfortunately, the conspirators were well-organized in neighboring Kadigidi province, and crossed Atageini territory, whether with or without their consent, but certainly without resistance, to strike directly at Taiben. Your grandson and the lady consort were obliged to retreat—Taiben being by no means fortified—and they used the maze of hunting trails to escape and to drop out of sight again. I ordered my own province to take every action to reach them with aid, but they were unable to find them. Meanwhile Murini of the Kadigidi mounted a major expedition to the middle regions, and there was close to a pitched battle—impossible to advance. In default of an answer from the north or from the Atageini, my own agents moved instead to open a route for the aiji to reach the coast, and to establish a second center of government at Mogari-nai.”
Site of the big dish, the communications with the station.