“I want one. And you are not to say anything! Anyof you! I can prove I can take care of it. I have never asked you to do anything secret but this. Find me one, and leave it to methat I shall get my father’s permission for it. I am his son. He will approve things for me that he would not if you asked him.”
There was a second or two of deep quiet. And very worried looks.
“One will try,” Antaro said. “One has an idea where one might find a tame one. It may take me a while.”
“Then you shall do it,” he said as the lift arrived. And ignored the frown Veijico turned on Antaro.
He could hardly contain his satisfaction. He had the cage. He was going to have a monkey. Well, close to a monkey. He had something that was going to be fun.And he would have something alive that was going to be hisand not boring, because it thoughtof things for itself and it was not under anybody’s orders.
He had been sad ever since he had had to leave Najida, and sadder since he knew he was going to have to live in a room with no windows and just white paint.
His room would not be all white. His room would be interesting.He could not go back into space. But he had his beautiful furniture, he had his own aishid, and he had that beautiful ancient brass cage and he would have a room full of plants like nand’ Bren’s cabin on the ship. And he would have something to do unexpected things.
He had dreaded the move. Now he could hardly wait.
3
The rain never let up. The view of Tanaja and its busy port was gray and watery as the bus reached the improved gravel road, where there was at last no worry about bogging down. It was largely thanks to the skill of the driver that they had gotten out of their one difficulty in the highlands, and nobody had had get out in the downpour and push. It was, Bren thought, a very excellent bus, if extravagant. Power to all wheels was a very good idea.
It was gravel roadway now, and generally solid all the way down the hill to the first city pavement.
Tanaja was laid out as a bowl set in a hillside, and bottommost was the harbor. On a hillock overlooking the harbor—a height that the histories said had once commanded the waterside with cannon—sat the Residence, partly composed of the old fortress which had stood here but mostly, Bren understood, of the scattered stones of that fortress. Gunpowder had exploded, that being the business of gunpowder, when a Dojisigi ship with a monstrous unwieldy cannon had scored a chance hit on the Taisigi powder magazine.
The fortress had fallen, and Dojisigi clan had taken over the Taisigi lands until the Dojisigi lord had injudiciously eaten a dish of berries a Taisigi serving girl had provided.
A cannon shot from a heaving deck and a dish of berries: both had caused the city to change hands.
A Taisigi lord of that day had then built the Residence out of the rubble and thrown a great chain across the harbor, from the breakwater to the treacherous midharbor rock, that bane of careless captains, and then to the promontory that ended the harbor deep. That had saved them from the second Dojisigi attempt.
The Residence had stood safe on the hill from that time. Taisigi clan had prospered, in Dojisigi’s decline. They had had Sungeni and Dausigi and Senji for allies and were bidding fair to take Dojisigi clan as well.
Then humans landed from the heavens, and the north had accepted human technology, which left the Marid in the dust.
Worse, a war had started that had ultimately caused the evacuation of atevi from the island of Mospheira and the ceding of the whole island to humans.
And the settlement of those displaced island clans on the west coast had changed everything. The aishidi’tat, with its capital up at Shejidan, had fought the war and now controlled the west coast. The Marid had no strength to oppose the united strength of the North. And the Dojisigi and Senji snuggled closer to the aishidi’tat, playing politics for all they were worth.
The attempt to unify the Marid fell apart. The Taisigi, pent up in the bottle of a smaller sea that was the Marid, joined the aishidi’tat, in name at least.
Every generation replayed that struggle, in one form or another—Dojisigi and Taisigi, with Senji clan rising to partner, generally, Dojisigi, and the impoverished southern clans of the mainland faithfully allying with Taisigi, knowing that Dojisigi and Senji would swallow them up in an instant, if it were remotely convenient to do so.
That was the last two hundred years of history in a nutshell.
It was an ambitious undertaking, to try to shoulder history out of a deep, deep rut.
Bren folded up the notes which proposed to do exactly that and tucked them into his briefcase as the view in the front windshield became buildings and city streets.
The streets were sparse with rain-soaked foot traffic, a few trucks were out and about. One truck stopped in midturn at an intersection, doubtless to get a look at the huge red and black foreign vehicle rumbling through the ancient streets of the harbor district, causing a little delay and causing Jago and Banichi both to come forward in the bus, with Tano and Algini behind. But the truck went on, and the bus no more than slowed.
Bren drew an easier breath, and his bodyguard went back to give orders.
The Assassins’ Guild had come into Taisigi district in force a handful of days ago, with none of its usual finessecprotecting Machigi, who hadn’t been in town to be protected, but never mind that. The Guild had taken over Taisigi territory. It removed several high-ranking officials in the first hours.
It had landed far, far harder up in Senji and Dojisigi territory, taking out the lords and several others and now controlling the capitals of those districts while operatives went down into Dausigi and Sungeni clans with far more finesse.
The Guild here in the Taisigi capital were nominally under young Lord Machigi’s authority now—they had declared themselves in support of him, at least. But they had very little to restrain them should another objective occur to them.
Lord Machigi could not be easy with the situation. Neither could the citizenry of the capital and the countryside. The whole damned situation was a house of cards of the dowager’s construction.
And what was supposed to stabilize it rested in that briefcase Bren folded up and set beside him.
He breathed shallowly—hadn’t realized he had been doing it until the bus began the slight climb to the Residence hill. He watched as the bus pulled into the circular drive where it had sat the last time. Rain positively sheeted down, hammering the potted plants along the driveway, veiling the front doors. Nature was not cooperating.
Banichi and Jago came forward, and Banichi settled into the opposing aisle seat—a golden-eyed darkness against the pale grays of the rain.
“We are in contact, Bren-ji,” Banichi said. “We have spoken reasonably with Lord Machigi’s aishid, as well as the Guild. They indicate you will be asked to stay the night here. Shall we offload baggage?”
At least they had the surface elements of courtesy. “Yes,” he said. He didn’t ask whether the ten juniors with them had their orders: that was Guild business, and Guild would arrange whatever they would do out here while he and his bodyguard were inside. But they were going to go into that doorway, at the mercy of whatever situation was inside, and they were going to settle business and drive back tomorrow, given good luck.
So, yes, he said, about the baggage, and he did. Banichi stood up, Tano and Algini came forward from the back. Bren put on his brocade coat, court garb, taking care to arrange the lace at the cuffs. Jago had taken a rain cloak from the overhead and helped him put it on, protecting his clothes. His bodyguard was due to get soaked—but cloaks on Guild made other Guild nervous, so Guild habitually endured such situations, that was all. The uniforms shed water—up to a point.