“Assure them we are aboard,” he said, with an idea who had said keep inside.
There were medical kits aboard, a small one in the overhead storage, a larger one in the forward baggage compartment. He got up and got a small bandage to stop the cut from bleeding; but they were, he thought, unhappily apt to need the larger one before all was done, and he was not going out there.
Things grew quieter. He became aware he was no longer hearing gunfire through the insulation of the bus.
“They have located the lord and his servants, nandiin,” the driver said.
“Good,” he said. Then the driver said:
“Lord Aseida requests to speak with the paidhi‑aiji. They will be bringing him down.”
He was not, at the moment, enthusiastic about dealing with Aseida. His cheek was throbbing and he was developing a headache–those were the sum of his stupidity‑induced injuries; and he could certainly do his job past that discomfort, but all of a sudden he felt entirely rattled. It seemed a crushing responsibility, to get the necessary dealings right, to react, knowing the record would be gone over and gone over by political enemies. His people had risked their necks to get the renegades identified and removed–everything had worked. They’d gotten their chance, and they’d made the most of it. He couldn’t give the opposition a loophole in his own sphere of responsibility . . .
Most of all he couldn’t give Assignments’ allies in high places in the Guild any excuse to charge a misdeed to Tabini’s account, and the station’s. Aseida was not, counting the damage to his house, going to be an asset.
He was rattled, he thought, by that trifling hit. He drew deep breaths, steadying down, getting control back.
The exchange of gunfire was over. He wanted to know his people were all right, and that the dowager’s were, that first. Lord Aseida, already under ban, was not in charge of events now. No. Only the aiji could unseat Aseida, and he had the excuse Tabini needed.
“Whatever Aseida is,” he said to Jase, “he’s representative of a major clan, a lot of people, a lot of connections, historic and otherwise. He’s a patch‑together sort of lord–the clan’s lost one after the other–but he’s what they’ve got, all they’ve got. Banned from court. They couldn’t let him into the Bujavid, for security reasons. Most of all, they couldn’t let his bodyguard in. He’s alive. And we’re going to keep him that way. His own allies probably won’t like that.”
“They are bringing out the casualties first, nandiin,” the driver said.
He got up to look out the bullet‑starred windshield. Jase stood behind him. He saw, one after the other, three of the dowager’s men helped down the shattered steps by comrades, all ambulatory. Thank God.
He asked the driver the question he dreaded to ask, “Have we lost anyone, nadi?”
“No, nandi,” the driver said. “We have not. All are accounted for. Six injured, none critically.”
He drew a deep breath and let it go slowly. He saw Banichi, conspicuous by his stature, walking under his own power, but with his right hand tucked inside his open jacket. He saw Jago, walking beside Banichi. And, escorted by two of the dowager’s men, a young man in blue brocade came out the door, hesitating at the broken steps and the dreadful sight there, and trailed by two agitated servants.
Aseida.
Time to risk his head a second time, going out there in the courtesy due the Kadagidi lord? He didn’t think so. The mess was Aseida’s and he didn’t owe it courtesy.
He stood where he was. He waited until the driver opened the door, and he was there to meet Banichi and Jago as they came up the steps.
He didn’t embarrass Banichi with inquiries, and Banichi delivered his report in two sentences: “We have the house secure. The lord requests to speak with you.”
“Shall I go down?” Bren asked.
Banichi frowned at him, perhaps noticing the new bandage on his cheek. “Lord Aseida can come aboard,” Banichi said, “under the circumstances. He is requesting Atageini assistance to secure the premises.”
Things had shifted immensely in the last hour. The Kadagidi‑Atageini feud had gone on, intermittent with periods of alliance, for centuries.
Now the Atageini were being invited in–preferable to the Taibeni, likely.
Bren shot a look toward Jago, who had smudges of pale ash on her chin and cheek, and a bleeding scrape on her hand. He was overwhelmingly glad to see her and Banichi both in one piece. “Tano and Algini, nadiin‑ji?”
“They are supervising the document recovery,” Jago said. “The servants attempted to destroy records. We stopped that.”
Records were involved. That was very good news.
The servants being at the business of destroying them, while the front porch was exploding–was peculiar, and spoke volumes about the character of the Kadagidi servants.
And the Kadagidi lord was standing at the bus door, with his two valets, waiting for his permission. “Come up, nandi,” he said, “without your servants.” He saw the frown and gave back one of his own. “Your servants may stay with the premises, under the watch of the guard we set here. You, on the other hand, may come aboard and make whatever request for protection you wish, and I shall relay it to your neighbor Lord Tatiseigi, to the aiji‑dowager, and ultimately to the aiji in Shejidan. Be aware, since one does not believe your bodyguard adequately reported to you, that a ship‑aiji is with us. It is his bodyguard outside. Your bodyguard, sadly, fired on them. So did someone from your upper windows.”
Aseida turned and looked up. His mouth opened. He turned back with an angry expression.
“These are historic premises!”
“Fire came, in a ship‑aiji’s presence, at a ship‑aiji’s bodyguard, from your historic premises, nandi. And one strongly suggests that you give no more such orders!”
“I did not order it!” Aseida protested. “I gave no such order!”
Bren backed up a step, in invitation. “Then you would be wise to come aboard, nandi, and explain to Jase‑aiji just who did order it.”
18
They were all down in the basement of Uncle’s house, which might have been an interesting place to visit, except the circumstances reminded Cajeiri all too vividly of the basement at Najida, where they had had to go because of the attack on the house.
Only this time mani had chosen to stay upstairs with Cenedi and Casimi. Cajeiri was sure that was because Cenedi was in contact with Banichi and nand’ Bren and possibly Nawari. Very serious things were going on that his guests were not supposed to know about, and since he was the only one who could talk to them– he was obliged to act as if everything was perfectly ordinary.
Nothing in fact was ordinary. Great‑uncle, who had never in his life approved of humans, had come down himself to guide not just children, but human children on a tour through his clan’s most precious things. And they had security with them, of course, two of Great‑uncle’s, and all of his own aishid–which meant, of course, that he could not have them upstairs trying to find out things.
Great‑uncle had begun by pointing out the beautiful porcelains, and talked at length about glazes in terms Cajeiri struggled to translate at all–though his guests were all very polite about it and nodded in proper places, seeming impressed by the porcelains, and the pictures, and the fact people had painted them a long time ago.
And once, when Irene’s eyes grew wide and damp and she whispered How beautiful, in very careful Ragi, Great‑uncle did a very strange thing and actually opened a case and took out a cup and let her hold it for a moment before putting it back behind glass.