For two seconds in that position they were without any locals at all in earshot. “Lord Saigimi is dead,” Tano said to him, low and urgently. “Unknown who did it.”
So thatwas the emergency. Bren took in his breath, and in the next firing of a neuron thought it likely that lord Geigi, stalled on the other side of the same door, was getting exactly the same news from hissecurity.
The lord of the Tasigin Marid, the circle of seacoast at the bottom of the peninsula, was dead, notof natural causes.
The lord of the Tasigin Marid, an Edi, was the one interest in the peninsula most violently opposed to the space program. When Geigi had sided with the space program, and when Deana Hanks had provided the bombshell that weakened him politically, lord Saigimi had immediately insisted that lord Geigi pay his personal debts in oil investment in full, which lord Saigimi expected would ruin lord Geigi and force him from power in Dalaigi.
That had notbeen the case, thanks to Grigiji the astronomer.
Geigi came out the door, sober, dead sober in the manner of an ateva when expression might offend someone. Not displeased by the news, Bren would wager. Possibly—the thought hit him like a thunderbolt—Geigi was even directly involved in the assassination.
No. Geigi wouldn’t. Surely not. Not with the aiji’s representative literally under his roof and apt by that to be thought associated with the event.
“News,” Bren said, resolved on his own instant judgment to ignore suspicion and treat the man as a cohort—as in the following instant he asked himself was Tabiniinvolved—while Tabini’s representative was a guest under lord Geigi’s roof. “Nandi, lord Saigimi has just been assassinated. I’m immediately concerned for your safety; and I mustmake my flight on schedule. I fear events have left me no choice but to attend to business, and place myself where I can interpret to the ship in case theyhave questions. But will you honor me and ride to the airport with me, in my car?”
Geigi’s face bore that slight pallor that an ateva could achieve. Indeed, perhaps Geigi—not involved, and fearing he might be blamed—had been about to cancel the proposed fishing trip as inappropriate under the circumstances, and to offer the use of hiscar for security reasons.
He had, however, just placed the shoe on the other foot.
Offered the man dessert, as the atevi saying went. Meaning the next dish afterthe fatal revelation at dinner.
“Nand’ paidhi,” Geigi said with a decisive nod of his head, “I shall gladly ride with you, and be honored by your company.”
It also was, most definitely, a commitment mutually to be seen in such company: Geigi was casting his lot with the aiji in Shejidan, in case the neighbor lords of the interlaced peninsular association should think of annoying the aiji by striking at the aiji’s prize piece in this province.
Geigi walked with him down the concrete path to the car, a quiet progress of themselves and their respective security personnel. “Do,” Bren said, almost embarrassed to say, “look to nand’ Borujiri’s safety as well, Tano-ji.”
“We have passed that advice to building security,” Tano said as they approached the cars, the centermost of which was his, with others close about it. Tano would in no wise leave him. And somehow Tano had advised building security indeed, probably through Geigi’s security, Gesirimu, while he was signing cards, without him ever noticing. Thatwas how they’d forestalled the news services getting to the outside door.
“Distressing,” lord Geigi said. “I assure the paidhi that no event will threaten his safety. I should be greatly embarrassed if such were the case.”
“I would never wish,” he said to lord Geigi, “to put my host at risk, and please, lord Geigi, never underestimate the value you represent to the aiji. I know that Tabini-aiji would take strong measures in any action against you or yours.”
It was courtly. It was also true. Geigi was getting that ship built. Geigi was the source of stability and employment in the region.
Then as they came close to the road, well-wishers watching from the plant spied them and their company. The plant doors opened, and a crowd came pouring out toward them, waving and offering flowers, accompanied by the news services and the cameras, at which security, his and Geigi’s, definitely looked askance.
But the plant workers seemed to have no inkling that there was a security alert in operation, and atevi polite, expressionless silence during a speech didn’t at all mean restraint once good will was established. There were cheers, there were bouquets tossed at the hand held rope perimeter which hastily moving plant security established. That the flowers landed on the grass and couldn’t be retrieved in no way daunted the well-wishers. The offering was enough, and atevi were used to tight security: the higher the lord, the tighter and more reactive the guard around him.
Bren darted a few meters from the walk to the lawn, stooped and picked up a bouquet himself, as a lord of the Association couldn’t possibly do, but he, the human, he of the white ribbon, he had no such reservations and no great requirement of lordly dignity. He held the bouquet of flowers aloft and waved it at the cheering crowd as Algini and Tano urged him toward the open car door.
But the good will of the commons was his defense as well, and taking such gambles was in some measure his job. The crowd was delighted with his gesture. They shouted and waved the more. It satisfied the news services, who had a good clip of more than people walking to the cars.
Defending him from the consequences of such gestures was of course Tano’s and Algini’s job, and as he and lord Geigi entered the car from opposite sides, Tano entered to assume hisback-facing seat in the capacious rear of the car and Algini took the front seat by the driver. Cars full of security staff preceded them as they pulled out; and more cars would come behind.
“One still extends the invitation,” lord Geigi said. “I know that fish is laughing at us.”
“I look forward,” Bren said, “to the hunt for this fish. I hope for an invitation in the next passage of this reckless creature. I wishI might have had a try this season. I hope you will remember me in the next.”
“One indeed will. Beyond a doubt.”
Clearly Tano and Algini weren’t going to relax until he was out of the province.
But he trusted they had heard the news of the assassination before the news services had heard, unless reporters of the same news services had happened to surround lord Saigimi at the very moment of his death—and then only if they had the kind of communications the Guild had. His security had heard as fast as they had because the agency responsible (or Saigimi’s guard) was electronically plugged into the Assassins’ Guild, which was able to get direct messages to Guild members faster than the aiji’s personal representatives, who weren’t always told what was going on.
And it wasa Guild assassination, or there’d be real trouble. The Guild was a fair broker and a peacekeeper. It might authorize a contract for an assassination to be carried out by one member but it didn’t withdraw resources from other members in good standing who might be defending the intended target. It most severely frowned upon collateral damage— biichi’ji, finesse, was a point of pride of the Guild in authorizing and legally notifying targets as well as in carrying out contracts—and the Assassins’ Guild did pass warnings where warnings were due in order to prevent such damage.