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.
So it was worth a little second thought—his frustration with Ramaso’s silence.
It was worth a careful approach, and a due respect for what services the man had given him. Maybe, he thought, he ought to talk to Banichi about the matter—doubtless Banichi had also added up certain missing pieces of information, but Banichi was not from the district; Banichi and Jago came from further inland, part of the aiji’s household, once upon a time, and that—
That could be an issue that might complicate any investigation his bodyguard tried to make.
Diplomacy, besides, was hisexpertise.
He found Ramaso in the servants’ hall, supervising a temporary repair on the ceiling paneling—one of the young men was on a ladder taking measurements—and approached him quietly. “Rama-ji,” he said, and before all other business, inquired about their driver. “How is Iscarti this morning? One is distressed not yet to have gotten down to see him—my guard does not want to be parted from me—or from their monitoring equipment.”
“He certainly will understand. He is much improved, nandi. Awake and talking, with diminishing doses of painkiller. His mother has come up from the village.”
A piece of good news. “Brave woman. One is very glad. Tell him not to worry in the least about his family. Tell him we will see his salary paid, and his family protected, not even a question about the medical bills. And we will get down there, among first things when my guard lets me leave this hall.”
“One will do so, nandi. Though he asks us what did happen. He says he cannot remember.”
“Then I shall personally tell him what he did. With all gratitude.”
“That will so greatly please him, nandi.”
“One thing more you can do for me, Rama-ji.”
“What would this be, nandi?”
The question.
And the wider question.
“We have had a dearth of information, Rama-ji—information coming to us, and information coming from us. It seems perhaps the village has felt abandoned in my absence.”
“No such thing, nandi. They have known you were about important business.”
“Nevertheless—it seems I should be more concerned with Najida’s business. One hopes to speak to the village councillors about the general situation—about Kajiminda. About what has gone on in my absence, and during the Troubles. One wishes to address the council courteously and ask its advice.”
The young man on the ladder had had his head up above the ceiling. He had looked down, and now descended the ladder, casting a look at Ramaso and giving a little bow.
“This is Osi, nandi,” Ramaso said. “He is from the village, the council senior’s grandson.”
A bow to Bren. “One would be glad to carry a message, nandi.”
Council senior was a woman. That was generally the case in the countryside, in any village. Council senior was everybody’sgrandmother; but this was a blood relationship.
“Tell your honored grandmother, tell all the council, Osi-nadi, that Najida will not accept Kajiminda falling into the hands of the Marid; it will not accept Marid presence on this coast. The lord of Najida estate wishes to meet with the council, in the council’s premises, and asks to be invited to speak, at a time not to interfere with their session.”
“Nandi!” A deep bow from the dusty young man. “Certainly they will be honored.”
“Nevertheless,” Bren said, “Osi-nadi, make the request for me. One wishes to listen to advice as much as to give it. One requests, Osi-nadi. And advice. Please say that, exactly.”
“Nandi.” Another bow.
“Go, Osi-ji,” Ramaso said. “The lord’s commission outweighs mine.”
“I have my measurements,” the young man said, tapping his head, and made a third bow. “Ramaso-nadi. Bren-nandi. I shall, one shall, as fast as I can.”
The young man was off like a shot, back toward the main doors, not the nearest, which were probably still secured. His footsteps echoed on the retreat.
“It is a great risk to go down to the village, nandi,” Ramaso said, “a risk for you to leave these premises.”
“Not from them.”
“No, nandi! Of course not!”
Honest distress. They let him run into danger. They didn’t know how to stop him without unraveling everything. He began to see that. No danger fromthe village. But the village couldn’t feel safe. Nobody could, as things stood.
“My guard will keep me safe, I have no doubt. My worry is my attracting attack into the village, Rama-ji, and I know what I ask. Guide me in this. If one asks protection from the aiji in Shejidan, it will be counter to all I hope to achieve. One does not wish to see Najida village dragged into politics with the South.”
“With the South, nandi?”
“The Marid will seek to divide Maschi from Edi, Edi from Korali—wherever they can find a weakness. One believes— one sincerely believes, Rama-ji, that in the aishidi’tat is the best association for all the Western clans. But this needs to be proved—to the Western clans. And it cannot be proved by bringing central clan Guild in here to settle things by force. It was never the power of the aiji in Shejidan that protected this coast. It was the people.”
Ramaso himself was Korali. And Ramaso nodded solemnly and slowly. “The absence of both the paidhi-aiji and the Lord Geigi has been a weakness on this coast. Our isolation from politics protected us. But Najida welcomesyour return, nandi. I am, at least by birth, an outsider, though my wife is from Najida. But I believe the village will heartily welcome your close involvement.”
“One regrets extremely the necessity of my service in space. Najida has deserved better.”
“Najida could not find better than you, nandi. That is your staff’s sentiment. You are—if the paidhi will forgive a political opinion—outside the regional rivalries. You are not Edi. But you are not Ragi. There was a reason your Bujavid staff fled here; there was a reason Najida welcomed them and hoped for your return; there was a reason the Marid found it inconvenient to attempt to take this coast, and the reason was exactly as you say. The resistance in Dalaigi relied on this house to reach Dur; and so we did; and Dur reached the Island, and from Dur we acquired direction and advice at need; and we gave each other assurances that there wouldbe a rising against the new regime. We were not idle in your absence, nandi, even though we counted on no help from Kajiminda—and less from the center of the continent. One must ask the paidhi’s forgiveness—his great forgiveness—for notwarning the paidhi about the situation with Kajiminda, which we did notknow. We did not know Guild had come from the South. We were unwarned.”