“Got that picture,” Toby said.
“Then you go ahead, get down to the boat,” Bren said, “as fast as you can while you still have some safety doing it. We have no guarantee Guild Assassins aren’t moving on this estate, or moving to close off the harbor. Don’t take safety for granted. Just pack up the essentials and get out of here, well out, as fast as you can. Contact Mogari-nai.” There were Mosphei’-speakers manning that post, in the Messengers’ Guild. “Figure we’ll contact you if we need any help from the Island. And I hope we don’t.”
“Done,” Toby said, and disengaged from Barb to come and embrace him. Hard. “Bren, I know you take care of yourself. I know they take care of you. But for God’s sake, don’t take chances. My regards to the kid. Deepest. I’m so sorry this happened.”
“You be careful.” Barb put her arms around him and for once he didn’t flinch. Even hugged her back, even took a kiss on the cheek and hugged her tight. “Take care of yourself, Bren. Toby and I will be all right.”
“See to it,” he said, and slipped free and left, out into the hall, where one of Ilisidi’s young men was carrying a heavy bag toward the outer doors. The doors stood open, with Ramaso and several of the staff waiting there.
He made a brief trip to his room, delved into his top dresser drawer and drew out the gun staff always packed. He had not had it with him this morning. Now he did.
He went out into the hall and picked up Tano and Algini as he passed the dining room hallway. Banichi and Jago were already outside, loading gear on, and the tire had been replaced— the bus, battered as it was, was sitting more or less level. He was about to get on board when Ilisidi, Cenedi, and Nawari came out of the house.
He stopped, bowed, gave Ilisidi precedence in boarding, and delayed for an anxious look at Banichi.
“Jago and I shall ride with you to the village, first, Bren-ji,” Banichi said, “and from there, we shall take the village truck overland, along with Nawari and Kasari. The estate here is secure: two of the dowager’s men are on the roof, one inside, two standing guard over Baiji-nadi in the basement.”
He didn’t like it. He never liked knowing Banichi and Jago were going into action, but they were the hand-to-hand experts. Send Tano and Algini into a situation and things exploded—no asking what was in theirgear at the moment, and God knew he didn’t want things blowing up with the youngsters unaccounted for. So Banichi and Jago were the ones for getting into the estate on a surgical strike, taking out just the enemy, and getting the kids to safetyc
But—
“You take care, ’Nichi-ji,” he said. One didn’t touch, ever, especially not here. His human instincts were raw-edged at the moment, but Banichi’s and Jago’s minds had to be utterly on business. No distractions. Suggest they take Tano and Algini for backup? Twice divide their forces?
Neither half of that set would leave him without assurance the other would be protecting him. Wouldn’t. Banichi and Jago were free to do what they proposed to do becauseTano and Algini were with him, and Bren just shut up and climbed onto the bus, taking his seat near Tano and Algini. He caught a glance from Tano that said “all business” and ready for anything.
The sun was touching the horizon—they’d have well and enough time to get to Kajiminda around dark, even with the detour to drop Banichi and Jago down at the village, but he had a notion, as the bus started to move, that they would hardly slow down at the village, that Banichi and Jago and Cenedi’s two were going to go out that door before the bus had quite stopped rolling, start up that waiting market truck, and they wouldn’t see anything from that team until this business was done.
Baiji, taking on marriages with the Marid, for God’s sake. If Ramaso had ever heard that tidbit of information and once, just once hinted of that dealing, he’d neverhave taken the boy over there, nor would the dowager have let her great-grandson come near a man even on the outskirts of such a bargain.
But nobody at Najida had been in regular contact with Baiji. Not even indirect contactc since the Troubles. He knew about the unpaid bills. He’d seen the unmown grass. He’d had a bad feeling about Baiji and let his relationship with Geigi rule his thinking.
The disappearance of the regular staffc God, that was thirty, forty people. At least. All missing, and no word of warning reached outside Kajiminda to alert his staff at Najida?
He had confidence in Ramaso. If information had been floating outside, village gossip, rumors from the train station, the airport, even clear to Dalaigi Township, they’d have picked it up. Ramaso would have warned him. But no, they had walked into a situation at the neighbor’s, a completely unwarned situation—but all ordinary methods of information-gathering had failed. The Southerners had been secretive—nothing new— and Baiji had been cooperating in that secrecy, keeping it even from his neighbors, with far more skill and thoroughness than Baiji radiated at other enterprises.
How long had the Tasaigi been setting up for a move against Najida? And what hadthey been aiming at?
And how the hell had Baiji kept the Edi he claimed were still on his staff from telling their relatives, who would have told relatives in Najida district? Would they not? Had threats kept them silent? The Edi tended to keep their own counsel, but not to have gotten anyword out—
Oh, there were a dozen questions he had yet to ask Baiji when he got back.
And God, when Geigi did find out—good-natured, easygoing Geigi was not all sweetness and affability. No knowing what Geigi would do when he learned what had happened in his house, but coming down like a hammer on his nephew was head of the list.
And Geigi’s sister: another bad bit of business, and murder was a high likelihood: it was too convenient for the Marid. Geigi’s sister taken out, and her son, a fool, set in her place, last of a waning line and without relatives at hand to advise him. The Maschi remaining in Kajiminda—the last of the clan besides Baiji and Geigi’s niece—were two young men who’d gone to space to work with Geigi. Beyond that—
Beyond that—there were a few Maschi relatives in the Samiusi district, who, be it admitted, had been a problem in their dealings: Geigi’s former wife had gone to the Marid and married there: that was an old bit of business; and Geigi—
They relied on Geigi. They weren’t in the habit of questioning Geigi’s connections, because, up in space, Geigi had absolute control of his associates, and he was never exposed to problems. A security lapse up there just didn’t happen.
If he were down here, howeverc
There would be problems. Clearly there wereproblems, and the staunch loyalty Geigi felt to the aiji in Shejidan, that they treated as dependable as the sunshine—the lines of man’chi that ought to have made the nephew cling tightly to his uncle’s commitments—were not reliable at all.
The Marid, Tabini’s old enemies, didn’t do things without a purpose. The Farai had gotten into the Bujavid. Others had gotten into Baiji’s house, in the heart of Sarini province. His coming here—the Farai were clearly in a position to find that out, and he had a strong suspicion there had been a phone call or a courier. Dalaigi Township was a sprawling hub of transport, boats going in and out, rail, air—all kinds of things could go in Dalaigi. All sorts of people could be in Dalaigi—the missing Edi. Their relatives. Or a small cabal of Marid folk trying to look like locals. It was not a comforting prospect, not for the peace of this district—not for the Edi—not for his own estate, or Geigi’s.
Or for the Western Association, for that matter. Tabini was newly restored to power: the usurper Murini was dead. But the issues that had driven the attack on Tabini’s power were still there, old as the aishidi’tat itself. The matter of local rule. The ambitions of the Marid for power. The old issues of the displacement of whole populations from Mospheira, when it became a human island. All those things were still rattling loose, and nothing that had ever happened had settled them.