“Member access to Guild Headquarters has been severely restricted,” Jago said, “since the aiji’s return to office. Ordinary Guild members no longer have routine access beyond the entry hall and the offices there. The Council Chamber is now restricted to those on the Council agenda—and the Council, of course, controls who gets on the agenda. The administrative hall adjacent to the Council Chamber has been declared off limits to anyone except very high ranking Guild on official Guild or state business. All these measures are new, all since the coup. They call it security. It is an inconvenience. Ordinary members have simply worked around it.”
He still listened. Clearly enough—they were talking about Guild Headquarters, on the other side of the city. They needed to get inside. And it wasn’t easy.
“If we assault Guild Headquarters head-on,” Jago said, “and break down the doors—there will be key personnel inside that we cannot contact safely, persons who would join us if they knew what we know—but who, if they do not, will obey Council orders until the end. It will mean the loss of innocent and important people, a loss to the Guild—and assuredly the loss of records we need. If Assignments has any warning at all—those records will certainly go.”
Records detailing the whole pattern of personnel assignments, Bren thought.
“You know,” Jago said, “that certain of the senior Guild went underground when Murini came in. Some that were listed as dead—were not; and are not; and among them are those who operated the network to bring Tabini-aiji back. The seniormost have claimed retirement. Others have stayed dead—for the record. They have now watched the Guild purge itself once, and twice. The current Guild leadership has repeatedly ordered them back to duty, and they have not come in. This war of wills has been going on since the coup ended. Personal issues are certainly at work. These people are not in agreement with current leadership. What I am about to tell you, even the aiji has not heard—and is not to hear; but you need to know, Bren-ji.”
“Whatever I should hear, Jago-ji, I shall keep even from the aiji.”
“This, then. Three individuals head the current Guild Council. One of them is compliant with the other two and more a failure than a problem. The other two have a pattern of action we question. They have pushed through, with a rapidity that admits no debate, whatever the Office of Assignments has recommended—including the recent assignment of chief officers in the Dojisigin Marid. During the trouble in the west, when we needed assistance, they were slow in moving forces, so much so that Tabini-aiji himself took the field, because his presence trumped the process of querying Guild Council. And at a critical time when the retired Guild might have been willing to assist the aiji’s action in the south, the Guild diverted itself from assisting Tabini-aiji and us, as we had requested—and instead sent a mission to arrest the two seniormost retirees—an extended distraction that ended with one unit dead and the retirees officially outlawed. It is an outlawry without effect, since there is no other Guild in the area where they are—but it is on the books, and will justify whatever Shadow Guild can eventually reach them. The Missing still ignore the Council’s orders. But they do not ignore us. We—Cenedi—and we—have been in contact with them since we returned from Najida, since the Council’s attempt to arrest them. We sent a message yesterday morning, before we went dark, using your name, requesting a boat sent to Najida. This was code. We have had one contact since, a contact face to face, in the lower corridors, directly with us . . . with us, because they will not deal with Cenedi in this matter.”
“Because he is Eastern Guild.”
“Exactly so.” Jago drew a deep breath. “Neutrality in disputes is the cornerstone of our guild. And there has been a cascade of events breaching that tradition: unFiled attacks on civilians, violations of code, Council refusal to bring charges in several cases, Haikuti among them. The Missing have seen the whole world change, Bren-ji. They did not approve of the space program; they fear Lord Geigi. They do not so much distrust Cenedi as they do not want the appearance of relying on the Eastern Guild. The decision they themselves made, long before the coup, to back Shishogi’s quaint demands and reject computers as a human gift—they know now that was a serious mistake. They have reconstructed, with far more names than we know, what decisions set certain individuals in charge of certain offices that arranged the coup that set up Murini. And they know that Haikuti was involved in the attack on the aiji at Taiben, and that he remained, until yesterday, untouched and his location known—they gave us names to watch. We checked them out. We reported back information—both gave and received it. The fact that Tabini-aiji had banned the Kadagidi lord—also isolated Haikuti in safety from arrest. And the Guild has kept Haikuti’s records as secret inside its files as it does any other unit’s records. But the Guild in exile knew what he had done. And what information they gave us greatly troubled Algini, and troubled Banichi most of all. Tano and I—we had no idea of it. But when we went there—when we went to the Kadagidi estate—Banichi expected trouble. He and Algini expected trouble. And he did not tell you. He was held between a good idea—a chance to build a clear case against the Kadagidi—and the fact that he and Haikuti had come to blows before. He was also preserving the secrecy of our information source—and he was caught between that necessity, and the fact that even yet there was no proof, absolutely none, of what he and Algini had learned from our sources.”
“Is there any doubt now?”
“None,” Jago said. “None in my mind. But, Bren-ji, be warned: the people we are dealing with, the Guild in exile, are not people who favor humans. They are, however, and always have been, immaculately loyal to the law. And, being Guild, they have no reluctance to take a pragmatic approach. To restore the law, during Murini’s rule, they were working with humans on Mospheira. They never favored Tabini-aiji because of his association with humans, but to restore the Guild to what it was, they will now support us and support him. We have their word. As of last night, we have their word. They are leaving their identities for the second time. Leaving families. Breaking off marriages. They are coming in—to take back the Guild, delve into records, and restore the law.”
“What are the odds?”
“As things stand—we face a bloody confrontation with innocent members that could see the wrong side win, or at best, rob us of proof. Shishogi, if he sees himself apt to be dismissed, will destroy records. The law depends on proof. The Guild enforces the law. We administer the law. We support the law. And if those of us against the current Council cannot prove our case to the membership, if Tabini-aiji has to uphold us only by decree, and by the power of the aijinate—the Guild will never again be what we were. We need an authority and a legitimacy that can only come by us standing in the Council Chamber and proving our case, that the Council itself has broken the law.”
“Can you do that?”
“Under the charter, and under current Guild rules, there are only two individuals who can enter that building and demand attention from the Council, whatever its agenda. Tabini-aiji can. The aiji-dowager can. And she wishes to do it. She is Eastern, however. The Guild in exile will balk at that thought.”
Ilisidi?
Good God. She walked with a cane. She was fragile. Walk in there, into a fortress and demand the Assassins’ Guild leadership politely resign in favor of their enemies?
Only two individuals could get in there. Legally speaking.
He suddenly knew what Jago was working toward.
“I can be either of those persons,” he said.