“Word of Murini, Nichi-ji?”
“His plane has indeed landed in the south, in the Taisigin Marid, but he has disappeared from view—only to be expected, nandi. He may already be dead. It would be prudent of that clan. But he may also have decided to go into hiding until the wind settles.”
“That man,” Bren said, considering every syllable, “has deserved no pity.”
“He has not,” Banichi agreed. “Nor is he likely to obtain it from Tabini-aiji. There is too much bloodshed. The Filing has been made.
Any Guild member can carry it out.”
“Our staff on the coast,” he began, in the curt manner of ship-speak, and decided, weary as he was, he had to amend that two-year-old habit.
“We have attempted to contact the coast,” Banichi said before he could draw his next breath, “and have spoken to Saidaro-nadi, who says that they have suffered some attacks, but no losses. A number of persons attempted to steal your boat, but were frustrated to find a chain across the inlet. They abandoned it against the shore and fled, after doing internal damage and attempting to set it afire.”
One could only imagine the scene. And damn it, he loved that boat. “Brave Saidaro.”
“The boat is completely repaired,” Banichi reported. “The house dared not venture as far as market, and has sustained itself by fishing and by digging shellfish, and by frequent gifts from Lord Geigi’s staff, which fared very well in the crisis. Your staff would take the boat up the coast at night and load on supplies from Lord Geigi’s estate—Lord Geigi’s estate remained unassailable, since it is an Edi estate on an Edi shore, in an Edi district. One understands there was some shooting between the Edi and their neighbors to the southwest, and there were some Guild movements, all privately directed, nothing of Guild orders for the duration.”
“Indeed.” An appalling notion, the whole coast at odds, and with Lord Geigi up on the station, Murini’s folk had still had to handle the Edi district very carefully. Though Maschi clan, he was a very popular lord over the Edi. “One wonders that Murini could restrain the Taisigin from running afoul of the west coast.” The Taisigin occupied the southern coast, long at odds with the Edi; but one could see, too, that the Edi had long had a network of connections of marriage and history that ran all along the coast northward, into districts on which the center of the aishidi’tat relied for food—notably fish, a staple of the diet, in quantities the south alone could not supply. “But one believes Murini may have run up against certain economic facts of his existence.”
That drew a little smile. “Certain economic facts of the world as it has become, not the world as the Kadagidi would like to pretend it might again become. Shejidan has come to appreciate its frozen fish, indeed, nandi.”
“Bren-ji.” It nettled him when his staff withdrew into formality with him in private, where Bren-ji would do ever so well. “One is very tired, Banichi-ji. One is ever so tired, and Bren-ji is an ever so much warmer blanket.”
“Is it?” Banichi was amused. An eyebrow moved.
“Than nandi, yes, it is.” He managed a smile. “One appreciates a warm blanket, now and again, Nichi-ji.”
“That one may,” Banichi said, and added: “Salads,” which made him laugh despite sore ribs.
“Are we safe here?” he asked.
“One believes, yes, we are safe.”
“It would be a good thing if one could make a phone call to Mosphiera.”
“No, it would not be good,” Banichi said, “for the paidhi to do that so soon.”
“Indiscreet,” he said.
“Exactly.”
“Then the paidhi will be entirely circumspect, as long as need be.”
“Certainly until the paidhi has reported, officially, to the legislature.”
He understood that was coming, and only in the weakness of exhaustion had he voiced the thought of contacting Mosphiera, which would get their reports the way they had gotten other information, via the coastal settlements, and by rumor and radio.
He, on the other hand, had to be concerned how such contact would look. Not so much substance, as perception of substance, people watching the wind to see which way it would blow in what was, potentially, a new regime. “Will the legislature come?” he asked. “Is it convening?”
“It has been called,” Banichi said. “One has no knowledge as yet, but yes, certain ones are on their way.”
“My office staff.” The thought had gnawed at him ever since he had heard the situation on the ground. “One hopes they reached safety. That they may be induced to come back.”
“Shall we make inquiries in that matter?”
“Among other things that must be urgent for my staff, nadi-ji.
Perhaps if we only issued a public appeal.”
“Such things are always accomplished down appropriate and secretive waterways, one believes your expression is.”
Through appropriate channels. He had to smile. “Indeed. Indeed, Banichi. But let the word loose, down those ways, however it has to be done. I shall need them before long—if I stay in office.” And a darker thought. “And if they have lost by being loyal to me, Banichi-ji, would I insult them by offering compensation?”
“It would by no means insult them, nandi,” Banichi said.
“Bren-ji.”
“Warm blankets,” Banichi said, leaning forward, arms on knees.
“One understands, Bren-ji. Warm blankets and a safe bed tonight.”
“You should see to your own, Banichi-ji, you and all the staff. We are under the dowager’s roof. One trusts that Cenedi is well. And Nawari. And the rest.”
“A few nicks and bruises. But Cenedi—” Banichi made a little hesitation. “Cenedi-nadi is quite done in, and will not sit down, not for a moment, except the dowager has given him a firm order, which he is contriving not to obey.”
“He is a brave man,” Bren said, and added, relentlessly and with deliberation: “So are you, Banichi-ji.”
Banichi glanced at the floor. It might be the only time he had ever taken Banichi so far aback.
“Very brave,” Bren said doggedly. “And one will never forget it.”
Atevi could blush. One had to be looking closely.
“One had better see to duty,” Banichi said, making a move toward the chair arm.
“One should accept praise, Banichi-ji, where it is due,” Bren said.
“We are a quiet Guild,” Banichi said.
“All the same,” Bren said. And added: “Very well done. One will not inquire regarding the Guild. One is very grateful to all the staff.”
That seemed to be a poser. In another moment, Banichi lifted a shoulder. “Algini and Tano have a strong man’chi within this house.
Your bringing them back to the continent was a great favor to them. They express deep gratitude.”
Murdi. That gratitude word, different than man’chi.
“And man’chi?” Another small silence. In earlier years, he might have hesitated to inquire into that silence. Now he was relatively sure of the facts. And of Tano and Algini. “Will they be ours in future?” he did ask.
“They have never ceased to be of this household,” Banichi said, and folded his hands across his middle. “The Guild never discusses its internal matters. But Murini’s ally is dead, the old master has reasserted his authority. Algini is bound not to discuss it, but, Bren-ji, he and Tano are now free to continue assignment here.
They wish to do so. They are not able to answer questions.” A shrug. “But one doubts that the paidhi has many questions to ask.”
It was a shock, even so, to hear it stated. Bren cleared his throat of obstruction. “No,” he said. “No questions. They are welcome, very welcome.”
Banichi listened to that, seemed to turn it over in his mind, perhaps trying to parse what he knew of humans and one particular human, and the faintest look of satisfaction touched his face. “Algini is required to be here. Technically, he cannot have man’chi within our household, but he holds it to Tano. And we may discuss this in this house because Cenedi is very well aware of the situation. That the paidhi guessed—one is not utterly surprised. It will not likely surprise Algini.”