“The Marid has made its attempt on Lord Geigi’s estate.” That was the definitive past she used. Over and done. Put “paid” to. “There are other things to concern us, but not, at least, apt to show up here within the next few hours.”
And about that moment Cajeiri put his head out of his own doors, exclaimed, “Banichi-ji! Jago-ji!” and came hurrying up, belatedly attended by his coatless and embarrassed companions. “One is very glad you are safe, nadiin-ji.” A second, deeper bow, as he walked, a feat of agility. “One apologizes, one very profoundly apologizes for the difficulty.”
“The sentiment is greatly appreciated, young gentleman,” Banichi said quietly.
“There will be breakfast very soon,” Cajeiri reported.
“That, actually,” Jago said, “will come verywelcome.” She hitched the bag higher on her shoulder as she moved. “We shall, however, wash.”
“Use both baths, nadiin-ji,” Bren said. “You have complete priority, there and in the dining hall. Please use it.”
“We shall manage,” Banichi said. “I shall go down with Cenedi’s men.” He evaded Cajeiri’s attempt to help with his heavy bag, and winced a bit. “One is grateful, but this is heavy, and the Guild handles its own baggage. One is very glad to know you are safe, young gentleman.”
“One is ever so sorry, Banichi-ji! One is ever so sorry to have mixed things up!”
“You survived. Your companions survived.”
“We are all safe, Banichi-ji.”
“Good.”
“Shall one alert nand’ Siegi, nadiin-ji?” Bren asked. Siegi was the dowager’s personal physician.
“Not if he prevents us from breakfast,” Banichi said, never stopping. “Or our bath.”
“We shall call him!” Cajeiri exclaimed, and was off at a run, Antaro and Jegari lingering for an embarrassed bow.
“Nand’ Siegi is not to come upstairs until he has tended Kasari,” Jago said.
“Nadi,” they said, bowing, then ran after Cajeiri.
Bren walked with Banichi and Jago down the remainder of the hall; so did Tano and Algini, as far as their suite and inside.
“The dowager’s company,” Algini said grimly at that point, “lost Pejan and Rasano.”
Jago stopped, and let the baggage she carried thump to the floor, unhappy punctuation.
“They were experienced,” she said. “How?”
“It was Nochidi and Keigan that got past them,” Algini said. “Those two got inside, through the roof, likely in the distraction of our arrival.”
“Are they still a matter of concern?” Jago asked.
“Dead, both,” Tano said.
“Settled, then,” Banichi said. “So is Lord Baiji’s guard.” He shed his coat with a sigh, then helped Jago pull hers off. Jago’s left shoulder was bleeding, or had bled, into thick bandages.
“Jago-ji,” Bren said.
“Minor, Bren-ji,” Jago said. “Quite minor. Bath, stitches, breakfast, in that order. The driver is taking the truck back to the village to refuel. But it will be available at need.”
“One fears the estate bus is not capable of being driven, nadiin-ji,” Bren said.
“One noticed the condition of the south gate,” Banichi said, “from the road.”
“The driver opted not to ask the front door be unbolted,” Bren said. “Please. See to yourselves, at greatest priority. Shall I send breakfast here—if you would be more comfortable?”
Jago said, with a little wince, “That would be welcome, Bren-ji.”
“Very welcome,” Banichi said, and pulled off his shirt. “We would be most obliged.”
“I shall then,” he said, and left the room—left it to Guild debriefing to Guild, as they urgently needed to do. The first encounter with a maid in the hall sent that message to the kitchens: service for his guard and the dowager’s, in quarters.
They had the aiji’s men next door, at Kajiminda. That was an improvement. That he wouldn’t have to send his bodyguard back in to settle that business, that was an improvement.
But they had two dead, a loss that the dowager would not forget. Nor could he.
Settled, Banichi had said. But he was very, very dubious that it was at all settled. Geigi’s estate had taken damage—in several senses. The Korisul Coastal Association might have had an attack come into its midst: but the Marid Association, the four-clan aggregation that lay at the heart of the Southern Coastal Association, had both flexed its muscle and committed a critical error of timing.
That was good, in the sense that the situation had gone no further.
But where were Geigi’s people? All quiet, the Edi, while outsiders had prepared to assassinate the paidhi-aiji and while Baiji had made extraordinary gestures—extraordinary effort from such an unenterprising man; but on which side he had exerted such effort, and with what intent was not in the least clear.
Likely nobody they could trust for information yet knew all the things he wanted to knowc but pieces of that information might be had, here and there, and he meant to have them.
He had a unique responsibility now as a regional lord, in Geigi’s absence, in the situation with Kajiminda. He’d never had to exercise it. Still, he knew what that responsibility was, and that was to defend his people and assert their rights, and to extend a stabilizing influence throughout the Korisul Association. He had to represent his people with the aiji, had to secure what was good for the district, and the occupation by Tabini, a Ragi lord, was not, ultimately, going to be acceptable with the Edic who, for one thing, had to be approached, and asked what the hell had happened here. They were not likely to talk to Tabini, on general principles.
They might talk to him. He couldn’t swear to that. They might not, given the situation, even talk to Lord Geigi himself.
That had to be dealt with.
They had the Farai in his apartment; they had the Marid trying to disrupt the aishidi’tat; they had the Edi coast in disarray, for starters, and they had the aiji having had to move Guild into action in the Korisul, where Ragi-directed Guild historically had never been welcome.
He was, when he added it all up, mad. He had been mad last night. He was damned mad this morning.
And no little worried about the future.
Not least of which was a matter that had been nagging the back of his mind since last night on the bus.
The Edi. Edi—who constituted part of the population of Najida village. Who were partially the reasonKajiminda estate and Najida estate had enjoyed such a steady, reliable flow of information.
Ramaso hadn’t warned him. Ramaso hadn’t said a damned thing about the mowing, just about the debt. Had said there was a lapse in contact. But absent the critical information about Edi leaving Kajiminda—it hadn’t conveyed the real situation there.
And Ramaso hadn’t known that fact?
He wasn’t mad at Ramaso—yet. But that question was forming in his mind.
Edi. And total silence. Not unlike them. They pursued their own business. They were not a government, officially, within the aishidi’tatc but they settled their own affairs, handled their own disputes, and generally didn’t make outsiders aware of their business. A silent, self-directing lot—they frowned on their secrets being discovered. They’d run illicit trade. There was a tacit sort of agreement with the aishidi’tat: the aiji’s law didn’t investigate things in the Edi community and the Edi didn’t do things to annoy outsiders.
So there was at least a situation behind the silence about the neighboring estate—and he understood Ramaso had one foot in the village community and one foot in the estate, so to speak.
But not warning him? Worse, letting him take the aiji’s son over there with him?
There were questions.
There were a lot of questions—some of which he was prepared to ask, and some of which he was prepared to investigate.
But theirs was an old relationship. And Edi reticence and the Edi reputation for piracy and assassination had managed to keep the coup from touching Najida in his absence.