· · ·
“Has he waked?” he asked Tano, who had, with Jago, sat by Banichi the while.
Banichi’s eyes opened a slit, a glimmer of gold.
“He is awake,” Banichi answered for himself.
“Good,” Bren said, and sat down on the chair Tano snagged into convenient proximity for him. “How are you doing, Nichi-ji?”
“One sincerely regrets the distraction in the Council chamber,” Banichi murmured faintly. “And the general inconvenience to the operation.”
“We did it, understand. We took down the target.”
“So one hears,” Banichi said. “Cenedi has come back?”
“Cenedi is on his way back to the Bujavid,” Tano said. “The Council is in session, probably at this moment. Other guilds are meeting to hear the reports. They are not waiting for morning.”
“The city is quiet, however.”
“The city is entirely quiet,” Jago said from her spot in the corner. “The city trains are running again. The city will only notice the mail is a little late tomorrow.”
“One believes,” Banichi said, “the rumors will be out and about.”
“One believes they will outrun the mail delivery,” Tano said. “The aiji will make an official statement to the news services at dawn. The legislators are being advised, some sooner than others.”
Those who employed bodyguards, notably lords and administrators all over the continent, would have been waked out of sleep by their bodyguards, giving them critical news from the capital. Viewed from the outside, the Bujavid’s high windows probably showed an uncommon number of lights in the small hours tonight—the sort of thing that, in itself, would have the tea shops abuzz in the morning, if they had not had the stalled train for a topic. And a number of people would be both up late and rising early—not quite panicked, but definitely seeking information . . . which that Guild of all Guilds might not release, except to say that the leadership of the Guild was now the former leadership, with the former policies. One could almost predict the wording.
The damage within the Assassins’ Guild had been very limited—only three deaths in the whole operation, the target being one, and the other two, Algini said, died firing at a senior Guild officer who had identified himself.
Finesse. Banichi’s plan had gained entry into the heart of the building for the returning Guild. Cenedi’s had been the action in the administrative wing while the initial distraction was going on. And both had come off as well as they could have hoped.
“Juniors who have come up during the last three years,” Algini remarked, “will be finding out that the rules on the books and the rules in operation are now one and the same.”
“That may come as a great shock to some,” Banichi murmured, and moved one foot to the edge of the bed.
“No,” Bren said. “No, put that foot back, nadi. You are not to move, you are not to sit up, you are not to shift that arm, and you are not to take any more of those pills you have been taking.”
“The arm is taped,” Banichi said, “and I am well enough.”
Bren held up his fist—with the aiji’s ring glinting gold in the light. “This says you take nand’ Siegi’s orders. Do you hear?”
“One hears,” Banichi said. “However—”
“No,” Bren said. “You have your com unit. You have your locator. You may move your other arm, but you are not to lift your head, let alone sit up. When nand’ Siegi says so, then you may get up.”
Banichi frowned at him.
“I am quite serious,” Bren said, rising. “It is the middle of the night, the household is hoping for sleep, and there is no good worrying over details out of our reach. If the leadership you left in the Guild cannot lead after all this, we are all in dire difficulty, but one does not believe that will be a problem. We are certain they have some notion what to do next. So sleep. Well done, Nichi-ji. Very well done.”
“Nandi,” Banichi said faintly.
“So stay in bed,” Jago said, and reached for a glass of what was probably ice water. “Have a sip.”
“One cannot drink lying flat,” Banichi objected.
Bren left the argument, however it might come out, and made his way down the hall barefoot. His head hurt—it didn’t precisely ache; or maybe it did. His scalp certainly hurt. The repair held, however. And he was exhausted. Sleep—he was still not sure was possible. He didn’t think he’d sleep for the next week, his nerves were wound so tight.
But unconsciousness, in the safety of his own bed—he might manage that for a few hours.
There were so many things in motion, so much going on, still, that had to be tracked—over which the Guild did not preside. But Banichi was safe. Everybody was back, or on the way back.
He reached his room, not without the attention of his valets, who waited there.
There was one more piece of business, he thought, closing his fist—the heavy ring, washed clean now, tended to slide and turn and he would not take it off, not for an instant. He could not send it back by courier, even his most trusted staff.
But he could not rouse Tabini-aiji out of bed, either. The matter seemed at an impasse, something he could not resolve.
His valets saw him to bed. He sat on the edge of the mattress, looked at the ring in the dim light, thinking . . . so many things yet to do, so many things so long stalled by the situation they’d just, please God, finally set in order, the last piece of what they’d needed to set right before the world would be back in the sane order they’d left when they’d gone off to space.
Better. They no longer had the Human Heritage Party to cause trouble on the other side of the strait.
And the man who’d been trying to run atevi politics on this side of the strait, from a decades-old web of his own design—was dead, tonight. The web would still exist. But the Guild leaders now back in power had every reason to want it eradicated—so it had stopped being his business. The Guild itself would take care of its own problem.
His problems centered now around Tabini’s problems, and the dowager’s. If they could now get certain legislators to move on those—and get those critical bills passed . . .
And get lords appointed in Ajuri and the Kadagidi territory who weren’t working against the aiji . . .
He became aware that he had not dismissed his two valets. They were still standing there, staring at him with concern.
“I shall return this in the morning,” he said of the ring. “Kindly tell Narani, nadiin-ji, that I have to do that in the morning, before anything else.”
Koharu and Supani said they would relay that message, and he simply put himself into bed face down, so his head would not bleed on the clean, starched pillow casing.
It was so good. It was so very good for everyone to be alive, and for them all to be home.
· · ·
“One has finally heard,” Veijico said, “officially, what has happened—at least what Guild Headquarters is saying happened.”
They were all in night-robes—they had been trying to sleep when Veijico and Lucasi had slipped into the guest suite, so sleep was no longer in question. Antaro and Jegari had gotten up to ask what Veijico and Lucasi had learned. Cajeiri had heard that, and he could not stay abed: he had gotten up and asked them to tell him—
But they had gotten nowhere with that explanation, before Gene and Artur had come out of their room and asked what was going on, and then Irene had come out—so there they were, all of them, wrapped in over-sized adult robes, shivering in the lateness of the hour and the spookiness of the whole situation.
“There were a lot of Guild officers who had never come back to Shejidan since the Troubles,” Veijico said. “Your father and your great-grandmother brought them back tonight. The Guildmaster that has been in charge since your father came back to office is overthrown, the Director of Assignments is dead—”