“Well managed,” Uncle Tatiseigi said. “Well-managed, Nephew.” Great-uncle and mani went on to talk to Jase-aiji and nand’ Bren.
And his guests came out, last, windblown, happy and a little out of breath.
“That was good,” Gene said in Ragi.
“Was it, nadiin-ji?” he asked. He hoped it was. “Rene-ji?”
“It was—” She lapsed into ship-speak. “I did it! I did it and I didn’t fall off, did I?”
“Told you,” Gene said.
“I want to do it again,” Irene said.
“I’m sore,” Artur said. “But it was good. It’s so weird. You really wonder what they’re thinking.”
“Your great-grandmother can really ride,” Gene said. “That was something! Were they going to fight?”
“Jeichido was going to move up past her,” Cajeiri said in Ragi. “They try that. But mani is faster. And smarter.”
“Wow,” Artur said. “Jegari said they can run. I wish they ran.”
Cajeiri had to laugh. “Oh, they can run, Arti-ji. They can run. We were all working to keep them just walking.” They had begun, after the others, to walk back to the house. “Hot baths, now. Or we shall all hurt tomorrow.” Antaro and Jegari were with him, and Lucasi and Veijico had stopped to wait for them, at the entry to the house.
“Nandi,” Lucasi said somberly, and nodded to the side of the door. Cajeiri stepped aside. So did his guests. And by Lucasi’s expression, whatever it was, was not good.
“Nandi,” Lucasi said, “your grandfather has just been assassinated.”
“Who?” he asked. Then: “Did my father do it?” He hoped not. He hoped his parents were managing to make peace while he was out of the way and not causing any trouble.
But if his father had just killed his mother’s father—
“Rumor has not had time to reach us,” Lucasi said. “We got this as we tapped into house base. One is not certain if Cenedi himself knows, yet. Jegari and Antaro are trying to learn details.”
Manicould have arranged it, Cajeiri thought, and Cenedi would certainly know.
Nand’ Bren had passed them, on his way into the house. Several of mani’s young men had lingered outside, watching them,Cajeiri thought, or maybe also getting the news.
He did not want to be looked at. He gathered up his guests and his aishid and brought them inside, then back into the nook under the adjacent stairs, trying to figure out what happened next in the world, and how to deal with his guests.
“Is something wrong?” Gene asked, and in Ragi: “What is it, nandi?”
“My grandfather is dead.” He did not want to alarm them. But they were going to find out. “Assassinated. Just now.”
They looked shocked. He was shocked, too, he decided. He was not exactly sorry, because his grandfather had threatened him, and his father, and scared him so he never wanted to see him again. But he was shocked, shaken, for some reason he could not quite understand.
“That’s terrible,” Artur said faintly. “We’re sorry.”
“One regrets,” Gene said in Ragi.
“What can we do?” Irene asked.
“Nothing. Nothing, nadiin-ji. He was—” He had no words for his grandfather, even in Ragi, and the more complicated things were words his guests had not learned. “He was dangerous. Bad toward me. Toward my great-grandmother. Toward my father.”
His guests looked confused, a little upset, not knowing what to do or say. And he only wanted to get them into a safe place and have his staff find out things.
“We are safe here,” he said. “No trouble.” He led the way back to the steps, and hurried up two flights of stairs with all of them behind him.
He thought then, at the very top step: Did Motherdo it?
• • •
“Who did it?” Bren asked of his aishid, inside the lower hallway. He had intended, when they had first gotten the word, to follow Jase upstairs to his room and see what his aishid and Jase himself could learn. But the dowager had said, shortly, with no reference to courtesy: “Nand’ paidhi,” and headed down the lower hall with Tatiseigi, Cenedi, and their bodyguards.
Singular, that brusque invitation had been—meaning it was a conference needing him,not Jase—needing his connection to the world and his particular need-to-know. Ilisidi was, with what skill he had at reading Ilisidi, caught by surprise.
He followed with his own bodyguard, a traveling briefing, at a pace that gave them a little time, before he should be swept up and told things as Ilisidi saw them to be.
Hence the: “Who did it?”—because one real possibility was Ilisidi; but by her sudden dark shift in mood he didn’t think she’d ordered it, or expected it.
“There are a range of possibilities,” Banichi said. “None certain.”
“Information is slower to come than we would like,” Algini said. “We have notified the camps. Security is on high alert—but there is no apparent threat to Atageini territory.”
The news was minutes old—had arrived on exterior Guild communications as they were riding into the stables. “When did it happen?” he asked.
“The event,” Algini answered, “within the last half hour. Details are lacking as yet, but his bodyguard has reported— theysurvived. The report came from Guild Headquarters. We relayed it to the aiji, so he is aware, in case the Guild has excluded his bodyguard.”
The damned restriction. The apparently petty rules question that now placed the aiji’s security in the dark, while there was an assassination that had reconfigured the political landscape.
Jago said: “We just now asked Jase-aiji to notify Lord Geigi and signal we are not threatened here, Bren-ji, but to be aware.”
“Has the young gentleman been informed?”
“His aishid, Lord Tatiseigi’s, and yours all had the first notice from the house. He has gone upstairs with his aishid and with his guests.”
Cajeiri was where he should be. His young aishid had performed as they should, right down the classic list: first, security, then their lord’s duty and dignity. They had gotten word, informed their lord, and gotten him upstairs to collect himself in private and to be where they could find him.
It was not a case of a grieving grandson. Cajeiri himself had no reason at all to mourn Lord Komaji—but he was going to be upset with news bound to affect his mother, his father, and everybody connected to him. Everything had gone uncertain, until there was more information, and until someone in authority exerted that authority.
He was having a similar reaction. The world could spare a man dedicated to causing trouble—but Komaji had connections, and his death reconfigured Ajuri, and thatmeant reconfiguring the entire Northern Association.
Ilisidihadn’t ordered it. Nor Tatiseigi, if he was any judge: he doubted Tatiseigi had ever assassinated anybody. He’d swear those two had both been surprised by the news, and were headed now into conference, apparently a major reevaluation of their situation.
“Recommendations, nadiin-ji?” he asked his aishid. Ilisidi and Tatiseigi had not stopped at the security station. Neither did they.
“None at the moment,” Banichi said, and they exited into the foyer of the house, and headed up the central stairs.
There were too many unknowns. That was the problem. They’d configured their security with an eye to Komaji as the likeliest problem, but one that held other, more threatening elements in tension.
Removing Komaji might improve some situations, but they might be hours away from seeing a stronger—or weaker—leader step in to replace him. Either would have repercussions. And one had no idea right now who that might be.
Damiri?
If she decided to go there, it would be effectively an act of divorcement. And it would be damned foolish, given the life expectancy of Ajuri lords over the last fifty years.
They reached the top of the stairs, where two of the dowager’s young men and the junior two of Tatiseigi’s stood watch outside the sitting room. They opened for him and he walked in with Banichi and Jago, Tano and Algini having elected to stay outside and talk to the other bodyguards.