“Is this the dowager’s proposal?” Machigi asked
“This is my own idea, nandi. The beauty and the quality of the work I have seen here—not alone the pillars, which of course one can never forget—are bound to attract interest. Northern museums hold fragments of Marid work. A tea service is highly valued. And I believe an exhibit of state gifts would immediately catch the attention of very influential collectors. The public can be encouraged to view the artistic heritage of the Marid, particularly the southern Marid, which has been very much in the background in recent decadescand this will utterly change the perception many hold of the Marid as more rural. I myself had no idea of the existence of such things until I came here.”
“State gifts, you say.”
“I do not demand, nandi. Far from it. But if one could request a sample of such wares, which can be displayed in the public area of the Bujavid—something representing what can be traded—in the character of a good will gift from the Marid to the people. It will touch popular sentiment. And generate excitement among the wealthy—among the influential and the fashion-setters, the very people who will be voting on further measures—and supporting the first steps in trade.”
“And generating resentments among competitors,” Gediri said. “Is this considered?”
“Porcelains of the north are distinctive, as these are. And desired. And traded. But they are not similar. Within a decent time, when you widen the trade to more common work, those goods, too, will have a name for quality and fashion, so yes, there will be competition, but it is more likely to stimulate interest in collecting. Through this trade, you will form a relationship with the Merchants’ Guild, who will guide you and assure you do notcome up against such problems—besides providing, in their offices, a place for contact with other districts. They have no enforcement arm, as you may know, and are only advisory.”
“Porcelains,” Machigi said, not enthusiastically. “They are not an immediate economic benefit.”
“Bluntly, they are a good that threatens no one,” Bren said. “A first step, designed to create a demand for Marid goods. Your porcelains, your craftwork, will open the door and change opinions favorably. Your trade in other things—textiles and foodstuffs—will follow and expand.”
“Where in this is our access to the East Coast?” Machigi asked.
“That begins in the hour of the signing of that agreement,” Bren said. “Immediately after that signing, a representative of Taisigi clan whom you will also appoint will fly to the East Coast with the cachet of the aiji-dowager and yourself to meet with representatives of the aiji-dowager in Malguri district, and guides from there will enable a safe journey to the coast. Included, one would suggest, should be Merchants’ Guild officials, in an advisory capacity. They can serve as fair brokers between yourselves and the inhabitants of the East Coast. You will be proposing the building of a new port, and you will be establishing a trade office. There will be no rail link. How long will it take a ship to appear in those waters?”
“A ship has to be outfitted, paidhi. It has to have a port when it gets there.”
“What would be the one-way trip, however? One has no idea.”
Machigi thought about it in silence. “Say—thirty-three days, with felicity. Given the cooperation of the weather. Given some sort of port facility.”
“The first ship should carry construction supervisors and skilled workmen. The dowager will provide the financing. She will negotiate with you on what items are to be supplied locally and what must be imported; the general notion is to hire locals, which will put money into their economy, buy food from them, more money, and buy local materials. These are not rich villages. The appearance of textiles and goods that they will be able to afford with their new found money will bring favorable opinions. Fair work. Fair wages. Fair trade. They in turn will offer trade in leather, in furs, in wood, and in fuel for your ships—it will have to be sent in. The details are yet to work out. But that is the generality of it.”
There was a lengthy silence. “Of what nature are these people, nandi?” War asked. “Are they civilized?”
“They are much like the smaller villages of the Marid, nandi—hardworking, generally honest, a little suspicious of outsiders. Hence the representatives from Malguri district. The dowager is well-reputed on the coast.”
A further silence.
“Dreams,” Machigi said. “Hinging on this meeting in Shejidan.”
“Even so, nandi. And one urges this go forward with all speed. Your representative first, then yourself.”
“One just walks in,” Machigi said. “And there is security at the train station.”
“Let me outline what is proposed, nandi: you may come by train or by air—let me suggest Najida Airport, with your own security. At whatever facility you arrive, the dowager will provide a bus and additional Guild security to take you and your company to the residence your representative has established. You will be under the Guild’s close protection in that house and in every venture to the Bujavid, and every other venture you may choose, until you are safely back in Tanaja.”
“And the aiji’s opinion of this?”
“One does not speak for him, at present, nandi, only for the aiji-dowager, who has his assurance he will not intervene. One senses he will prefer to watch from a certain distance, and my sense is that he hopes for a good outcome for his grandmother. He regards certain of the reputations at stake as his personal assets, and he would by no means wish to see this go badly for her. He has extended himself that far.”
“Indeed.” Machigi rested his chin on fist. “We shall read these papers you provide. We shall talk together. We shall see you at dinner, nand’ paidhi.”
“Nandi.” That was a dismissal, and a reasonable one. He had time to go upstairs, settle in, try to get his nerves together, and dress for a formal dinner.
It wasn’t going badly. There was no guarantee it wouldn’t. There was no way to know what the ministers were going to argue in private, but they had to have that chance. He stood up, the ministers all rose and bowed, he bowed, collected his bodyguard, and left, on a familiar route, with two of Machigi’s servants leading the way.
It was surreal to be back in the suite he had occupied before the Guild action. The white, ornate furniture was entirely familiar, and the phone they had asked for was still on the table. The bed in which he had spent very uncomfortable hours had the same ornate coverlet. He might never have left.
And of all things—his lost shaving kit was sitting on the bureau. His clothes, recovered from luggage left behind in a desperate escape, were all in the closet.
He was particularly delighted about the shaving kit, which he could not replace this side of Mospheira, and about the personal items: his mother’s locket, a pocketknife his brother Toby had given him, an informal and very comfortable coat, and a well-broken-in pair of dress boots. It was a very welcome surprise.
Similarly, his aishid found items, all cleaned and proper. They met in the hallway to compare notes, and indeed, everything they had left behind in the van on the road was here.
“A kind gesture,” Bren said, and his bodyguard avowed themselves uncommonly pleased and, for once, surprised.
Machigi’s servants arrived to help them dress for dinner, and this time Bren did not decline the help. He had professional assistance with the dress coat and with the braid, which had wilted a bit from the weather, and he changed to the comfortable boots.