Certainly if he wanted to lessen the pressure on the situation here, there was Taiben for a retreat—and the foothills, on the other side, the forested skirts of those mist-hidden mountains. The mountain villages were, unlike the lowlands, not highly associated with the capital. The web of associations there looked more like a tangle, this village allied to one over the ridge, but not to the one nearest. In the old days, back when the Atageini house had had reason to be a fortress, those hills out the window had been a region of feuding chiefs and not a little outright banditry. As a refuge, it had its advantages. But it took a reference book to figure out the man’chiin involved between the villages, some of which territory neighbored Kadigidi land, for good or for ill.
Third loop of the fugue. What in hell was he thinking? Run from here? Retreat? Look for safety, where he could only endanger the Taibeni, or those villages, less prepared than the Atageini to hold trouble at bay?
A railroad linked the principal villages, and ran up to the highlands University, the apex of civilization in the district, itself lying outside man’chi and as neutral to all parties as it was possible to be, give or take minor allegiances to those lords and powers who endowed it—hoping an institution of learning would bring greater prosperity and less banditry to the region.
They had taken that route once, when they went up to visit the observatory. He remembered game running beside the antiquated train. Remembered a long climb up and down.
A lightning stroke. The hills.
The university.
The Astronomer Emeritus, Grigiji. The observatory, remote in the hills. A revered old man all but worshipped by his students, beloved by the court—but a man not likely in great favor with the new regime, his work having abetted Tabini’s efforts to reach into space. Another likely to be threatened by the upheaval.
Up in those hills, toward the mountains. Grigiji.
Where better to keep an eye to the sky, to know when the ship had returned, even when the shuttle launched?
He felt a chill. He decided he didn’t want to know Tabini’s whereabouts. He didn’t want to have that supposition in his head, remembering another time, early in his association with Ilisidi, when he’d been caught and questioned, very unpleasantly.
He wished he could talk freely with his staff, a free and open conference. But this wasn’t the place. Bad enough risk they’d run, discussing the letter and the Guild. But Tatiseigi had to find out they were up to something, or he’d only listen the harder.
Fugue done. Threads knit. Wide awake. He looked uneasily at the sky—momentary flash of steel and plastics, close corridors. Jase. What are you up to? he wondered, feeling a little forlorn. Can’t say I wish you were here at the moment. Not a good situation.
Flash of open sea and heaving deck underfoot. Hope you made it home, brother. And maybe got some fishing done. Stay out there, if you get the choice. Don’t be answering questions from the press. That game’s no good for a relationship. Good luck to you and Barb.
From brain-wearying fugue to a last few flashes of distance-spanning longing, pieces of him stretched thin. He’d never moved from the window. But he’d been on a long, scattered journey. Likely the tea was cold. He’d had only a single cup, and he’d learned it was precious, in the economy of the universe. He went and poured himself a tepid cup, drank it anyway, sitting in the well-padded chair. He was mentally tired, even physically tired after the mind-trip he’d taken. Curious how the brain wore the body out, and how it didn’t work the other way around.
He shut his eyes, wishing he didn’t know what he suspected he knew, but what—he reassured himself—Tatiseigi and his whole staff and the Kadigidi likely knew. He waited, cradling his lukewarm teacup. He thought about marauding Kadigidi creeping through the topiary hedges.
Over near the door Algini, clearly bored, stripped and oiled his gun, waiting. Bren smelled the oil. He didn’t need to look. He smelled the thousand scents that wafted through the open window. Curious, how many, many different scents a planet had, each freighted with significance.
Hadn’t taken him long at all to acclimate to negatively-curved horizons. He wondered if Jase would get queasy again, after being back in his element so long.
Deep sigh. A state near sleep, hindbrain running autopilot. The teacup was still safe in his hands. He probably should ask Algini to do the same maintenance for his gun, which, with Shawn’s computer attachment, was tucked into his gear.
Steps outside, ordinarily beneath his hearing, audible in the general hush. Algini got up.
Heavy steps. Several. Algini opened the door. Banichi and Jago were back.
“Bren-ji,” Banichi said, and came and sat down in the opposite chair, Jago standing behind him. Banichi set arms on his knees and leaned very close. “Tano has been out by the stables. He reports there have been numerous mechieti here before the rain, for what that may mean, and now there are only five, besides ours. Cenedi is aware. Possibly it is as mundane as the movement of an Atageini herd to the hills, after use in the hunt. On the other hand, there might have been visitors here in the last few days that the lord has simply not mentioned.”
Tatiseigi, the old fox, had made a career of holding everyone’s secrets, and moving very suddenly in the direction that gained him most. A patrol sent out, and never mentioned? Visitors, from one faction or the other, a diplomatic mission from the Kadigidi?
And not a word yet about his carefully crafted letter to the Guild. His brain threatened to enter fog-state again, having ten new things to process, none of them pleasant.
“Dare we speak, nadiin-ji?”
Banichi moved his eyes to the left, a slight warning. Bren bit his lip, increasingly uneasy in this luxurious, secretive house, and needing, dammit, more information.
“Lord Tatiseigi has read your letter, nandi, and is considering the matter.”
So Ilisidi had sent it on, implying she thought it should be sent. Tatiseigi was considering. And Algini indicated they were fast running out of time.
Things absolutely had to be said. “Come,” he said to them, and went to the writing desk.
He enlivened the computer screen. Wrote:
I have a wild guess, nadiin-ji, where Tabini is: with Grigiji.
Leaning over his shoulder, they read it, absorbed that with a little gratifying expression of surprise and a glance exchanged between them.
He wrote further: Algini says that the Kadigidi may make a move tonight. What Tano found at the stables may mean there has been diplomatic traffic from the Kadigidi—or from Tabini-aiji—or simply that there are more Atageini patrols out that his staff has never mentioned. One hopes for either of the last two.
Banichi signaled that he would answer. He dropped to one knee, took the computer, balancing it while he entered, hunt and peck with his much larger hand, and a telegraphic brevity:
The dowager says if Tatiseigi acts against her interests her staff will act against him, but that situation remains uncertain. She has considered Cenedi’s plan to move against the Kadigidi, which would seize the initiative and make it more sure that Tatiseigi cannot waver in his alliance with her. He has also proposed to her that the paidhi take the heir and withdraw to some unknown place, maybe Taiben. If the heir were not here, it would complicate the Kadigidi’s situation and divide their attention. Should something befall Cenedi and the dowager come to odds with our host, the boy would not be in Lord Tatiseigi’s hands.
My God, he thought, and reached for the computer.