It wasn't a situation he wanted. But that little jarring note in the negotiation had rung alarm bells all up and down his nerves: not that he hadn't expected it, but that word friendly, that no regular contact he used would have dared use, advised him of dangerous problems.
Friendlycontact.
The War memorials and the fact that humans lived on an island weren't part of the ship captain's growing up, the captain's constant awareness, the captain's conceptual reality. He didn't know that lives were in danger. Or didn't know that they were in danger for the reasons that they were. Mospheira had transmitted a history of the war. But knowing the details of history wasn't the same as stopping for that minute of silence at 9:16 A.M. every Treaty Day; or seeing that time frozen on the clock in the photos of Alpha Base. He'd been there once. Every paidhi went there once.
"Aiji-ma," he said, "I'll prepare another document for transmission. A handbook of protocols, by your leave. I can assemble it by tomorrow, out of— the dictionary."
"As the paidhi will," Tabini said. "Whatever the paidhi deems necessary."
It was an appalling grant of power. It meant — in atevi terms — he bore direct responsibility, along with that grant of power.
He folded up his computer quietly, thinking, God, he'd put his neck in the noose now. After that it came down to operational details, a handful of answers he needed to give, a confirmation of meeting dates, all of which he had to sit through, but his mind wasn't on committee housekeeping, or even the few questions committee members asked.
It was the moment, in a curious retreat of his mind, in which he really, definitively said good-bye forever to Barb. In which he thought of the letter he'd write to his mother, and Toby.
In which he held himself and his motives and his mental condition entirely suspect. The aftershocks of an irrevocable, previously confident decision were rumbling through the mental landscape, disturbing precarious balance. He felt slightly sick at his stomach. He questioned his motives and his sanity this time from hindsight, not theoretical actions. Reality always put a texture on things, a chaotic topography of imperfections, that imagination had foreseen as smooth and featureless. Now it was all in past-tense conversation between two minds, not one mind reasoning with itself. Now it was interaction with a very potent and distance-wise inscrutable third party, as well as a Department that was going to ask the paidhi what in hellhe thought he was doing.
"Nadiin," Tabini said, "we are adjourned. Nand' paidhi, thank you."
"Aiji-ma," he murmured, and with one aide to help with the chair and another to help with the computer, he gathered himself up, still with that hollow feeling inside, and collected his belongings.
Lord Eigji of the Commerce Committee cleared his path to the door — perhaps in consideration of his small stature and his necessary awkwardness with the outward-braced cast — but such a reversal of ordinary protocols of rank required first the acknowledgment of a bow of the head, then puzzled afterthought, so deep a thought he knocked the doorframe with the cast in leaving and, expecting Jago, didn't look up quite enough: his view was suddenly and entirely black leather and silver metal.
"I have it," Banichi said, and collected the computer from his hand.
"Where have you been, nadi?" was his first unthought question, while they were still blocking atevi lords from the doorway.
Banichi led him aside before saying, "Sleeping, nand' paidhi. One has to, eventually."
It wasn't at all the truth. He gave not-the-truth back to it. "I never was sure you did that."
He amused Banichi. That Banichi could be amused was a reassuring stroke in itself: if Banichi was in good humor then something that was security's concern must have gone right.
One had to wonder, on the other hand, where Jago had gone now, and he wasn't at all sure it was back to the residence, but the recipient of their duty couldn't pursue the question, even in the most security-conscious area of the Bu-javid —
Or especially because they were here, in an area where anxious, life-and-death interests hung close about them.
They walked toward the lift not quite elbow to elbow with the lords of the Association, but possibly within earshot.
"I have to go to my office, if not today, tomorrow," he said, off his balance in this switch of personnel; he'd mapped out how to deal with Jago. And atevi had changed the situation on him again without warning. "I have to find out what's been done there — I need to consult with Hanks."
"I thought you'd declared war on her."
"Not — quite that far. Understand, please, Banichi-ji. I don't want her to come to harm."
"You must be the only one on the mainland," Banichi said, "to say so."
"We can't allow it, Banichi. Can't. Daren't. — Where is Jago?" They'd reached a relatively isolated area by the lift that served the more securitied floors, and he pounced on the first chance for the question. "Algini's back, did you know? You go, Jago goes, you come back, Algini's got the foyer stacked with my luggage —"
"Shush." It was the word one used with a child. "You're due upstairs. Rest, Bren-ji. It is a physical necessity."
"Cenedi said there was trouble going on."
Banichi had pushed the call button. The car had arrived, but Banichi lingered to cast him a curious look. "Cenedi said," Banichi reiterated.
"Cenedi said — he'd stand with you in the Guild, if he had a choice."
" Didhe?"
They had to take the car or lose it. Banichi swept him inside and followed.
With no intent, it seemed, of answering his question, even in general. But he thought Banichi had been at least taken off his guard by that information.
And gave nothing back.
"Banichi, dammit."
Banichi found it convenient to watch the floor indicator. Banichi was dressed fit for a council meeting: official, impervious, unruffled by whatever was going on.
"A man died last night," Bren said sharply.
"One heard." Banichi still didn't look at him.
"Banichi — one could arrange one's affairs ever so much more wisely if one's security told him something! I am nota fool, Banichi, don't treat me as one."
Banichi offered a small, frayed smile. "Bren-ji, it's your task to deal with ships and such. It's ours to see you aren't diverted by extraneous matters."
"The man had a family, Banichi. I can't forget that."
The car stopped. The door opened.
"We can't discuss it here. Not a secure area, Bren-ji."
"What is? Besides the apartment I'm borrowing from —" But the microphones which evidently worried Banichi, which Banichi had equipment to detect, surely all that were in this hall served Tabini, and therefore were accessible to Damiri.
It was that small uncertainty that stopped him.
And why? he said to himself. Whycould there be any question about third-floor security that Banichi couldn't make sure of?
Who was up here, with access to this floor, but staffs that held man'chito Tabini, to —
To the Atigeini woman who'd offered him her hospitality — and whose family opposed Tabini.
Banichi stopped at the door to take out his key, and said, under his breath, "More than one man is dead, Bren-ji. Amateurs. I swear to you, it's amateurs will bring us down. I'm sure it's television. It plants foolish ideas in foolish heads that otherwise couldn't remotely conceive such plans."
"You mean the representative from —"
"One means that the Guild has refused arguments, bribes and coercion to undertake contracts against the paidhi." Banichi opened the door into a foyer miraculously void of boxes. "Jago's aim was accurate. His damaged a historical artifact. That— is the difference, among others. Kindly stay out of crowds, nadi."