“Nor have I,” Great-uncle said.
“Yet,” Great-grandmother said, “Aseida is lord. And Kadagidi is rebuilding. It is not Aseida who is so industrious. It is his bodyguard and his staff.”
“Haikuti,” Cajeiri said.
“He was never part of the coup. He was never attached to Murini. Yet—things run exactly as they did when Murini was alive. The same rules. The same policies. One might say the Kadagidi were merely doing what worked well—but we suspect that the difference in Murini’s administering Kadagidi lands and his behavior in Shejidan is this man. And you would say that he is doing no harm, governing Kadagidi from behind Aseida’s shoulder. But we have a little more information of this man’s connections now, and this is the lastman your father should admit to court.”
He thought he followed that. He was not sure. But under the circumstances, only one thing really mattered: “Shadow Guild?”
“Definitely,” mani said. “Definitely.”
Cenedi, standing to the side, said: “There was a strategist behind the coup, and we do not believe that that strategist was Murini, or even one of Murini’s bodyguard. We are now watching the contacts between Kadagidi and the outside, by means that we do not think the Kadagidi have. Your grandfather’s assassination provoked an interesting flow this morning.”
“ Kadagididid it?” That was a lot better than learning his mother had done it. But it was not good news about Uncle’s neighbors.
“Possibly.” Cenedi walked forward a step. “Nand’ paidhi.”
“Nadi?” nand’ Bren said.
“You were briefed, nandi, concerning the Ajuri officer in the Guild.”
“Yes,” nand’ Bren said, and Cajeiri took in his breath, resolved not to interrupt. One learned nothing by stopping people. But he hadto know—
“Cenedi-nadi. Who?”
“There is an old man, Ajuri, your very remote elder cousin, a high officer in the Guild,” Cenedi said, “who may have wanted your grandfather silenced—regarding the relationship of Ajuri clan to the Shadow Guild. You are not to discuss this, on your great-grandmother’s order, young gentleman. This is what you urgently need to know—and your aishid needs to know; but none of your guests. This man, Shishoji, orHaikuti, who would not want Shishoji exposed, sent the assassins.”
“This knowledge is worth lives,”mani said. “Believe it, Great-grandson.”
“Shishoji-nadi has held his office,” Cenedi said, “for forty-two years. He has worked in secret—placing his people in various houses. We believe that some of these were on your mother’s staff, young gentleman.”
His heart beat hard. He knew these people. He had passed them in the hall. He had slept with them outside his door.
“Does my father know?”
“Yes,” mani said.
He never expected to be told the whole truth—he never was—but it seemed likely he was hearing it now.
The air in the room seemed heavy. His heart was beating unbearably.
“Understand this, Great-grandson. This man, this Ajuri, is the stone on the bottom of the stream. He is a constant, and events flow around him. You do not see what makes the turbulence, but once you study the patterns, you can begin to see that there is a certain rock that makes it flow that way. That is how we have detected him. His agents, we suspect, have deliberately kept certain quarrels going—your great-uncle and I have discussed that matter.”
Great-uncle cleared his throat. “We have completely revised our security.”
“The alarm,” he said. “Did you catch anyone, Great-uncle?”
“Not yet,” mani said. “But we are looking. Quietly. Meanwhile I rely on you to stay indoors, devise clever entertainments for your guests, and think. Think about your safety, do notbe in a window once it gets dark, and take care your guests do not. You are in lessdanger than you would be anywhere else in the world, but onlyif you obey instructions and do not take chances.”
“Boji got away out the window,” he said. “I am very sorry, mani. We had no idea there was any problem and I wanted to find him. We came right back.”
“Ha.” Mani seemed even amused. “Your little Boji had doors opened, people running out to the stable—possibly it startled someone into a mistake. Perhaps we must thank Boji. We shall keep him in mind, if we have anyone out searching. We shall catch him for you if we can.”
“He likes eggs, mani.”
“I am sure he does. Go back to your guests, Great-grandson. Keep them contained. And do notventure out to catch Boji tonight. We are on a completely different set of priorities than we have admitted to the world. This is no time for a mistake. Do you understand?”
“Yes, mani,” he managed to say.
He got up. He made his bows. He left with a racing heart and an upset stomach, thinking: So Mother did not do it.
But what did my grandfather have to do with the Shadow Guild?
• • •
There was a lengthy pause after the young gentleman had left. Bren waited, sensing it was not a general dismissal.
“In our opinion,” Ilisidi said, “we doubt Lord Komaji suffered a moral change that brought him to his end. It seems likely that he was attempting to escape his situation. Considering the man, we suspect his strange behavior in the Bujavid was complete panic. He was carrying far too much knowledge. My grandson and his wife—and, more importantly, her bodyguards—were not in the apartment at the time he attempted to get in. I think he wanted to talk to Cajeiri, to enlist himto reach my grandson, with the hope of meeting my grandson with Cajeiri to stand in front of him—as he exposed Damiri-daja’s staff and everything else he knew. He was in a truly desperate situation—he had excellent reason not to trust his own bodyguards. Being rebuffed at the door—he slipped into total, unreasoning panic. He blamed us for creating it. He sought a public place as the place least likely his own bodyguards would choose to kill him—and quite, quite broke down. The poor man had no knowledge how to survive without a staff—he probably had no idea how to walk out the door, down the hill, and buy a train ticket.”
“Who carries money?” Tatiseigi asked. It was true. Lords didn’t. Staff did.
Ilisidi gave a short, ironic laugh. “I have found,” she said, “that a piece of jewelry serves.” The smile vanished. “Damiri-daja had no wish to see him again. Nor to commit herself to Ajuri.”
“She hasan uncle.”
“That she does, Tati-ji.”
“You do not think, aiji-ma,” Tatiseigi said, “that she in any wise has contact with this old man, this Shishoji.”
“No,” Ilisidi said, and moved her cane to lean on it, as she would when she had something more to say, of a serious nature. “She said herself that she had refused to visit Ajuri, that they would have been happy to have her daughter born there, and she would not consider it. That did not please Komaji in the least. She pleaded her condition. And the distance. She did not want to fly. Excuses. But, Tati-ji, she carries very unhappy memories—no few unhappy memories. She is sensitive on the matter. Born here. Sent there. Back here. A long sequence of going there and here, all with the single question—whether she should ever have been born.”
“One never implied such a thing!” Tatiseigi said.