In general principle, conservatives would greatly prefer this. Komaji would be that child’s grandfather, and his jealousy of Lord Tatiseigi suggests several moves that would work to his extreme advantage: assassinating the heir, and/or Tatiseigi– provided the event could be sufficiently distanced from Komaji.
We have suspicions regarding the death of the former lord of Ajuri. We wonder what other clans might have wanted the silence of the grave over their dealings in the Murini era. We have directly asked Tabini why he avoided Ajuri during his exile, and he confirmed he had his own suspicions of that clan, but did not voice them to Damiri. We suspect the former Ajuri lord’s own bodyguard conducted that assassination, and subsequently removed records of Ajuri dealings during those years–records that might have proved theft and assassination–even within the clan and the subclans. Komaji is regarded within his own clan as a man who allows emotion to guide his actions. He is not respected, but he is feared. His relatives may not tolerate him much longer, but we cannot rely on that situation to protect the heir.
We have strongly suggested to Tabini that a Filing would assist us.
Return this note now. We shall destroy it.
Bren handed it over. Algini touched it with a pocket candle‑lighter and it went up in a puff of flame, leaving only a fluff of gray ash that fell apart.
“I understand,” he said.
Tabini didn’t want Damiri to take over Ajuri. He didn’t want her to have any part of it.
Why? Because, Tabini had said, Ajuri swallows virtue.
And he had said that Damiri couldn’t settle on a clan. Even when she was wearing Tatiseigi’s colors, and bearing a Ragi child.
Problem, Bren thought.
Problem, of a sort a human was very ill‑equipped to feel his way through. Damiri was not a follower, but a leader–of a strong disposition to wield power. That disposition had made her valuable to Tabini. She had a quick mind, an ally who understood him to the core; but in the way of atevi leaders–it made an unruly sort of relationship, a unison of purpose very, very difficult to keep.
Interpret Damiri’s actions as emotion‑fueled and self‑destructive?
He didn’t think so. Not even considering her condition. She might have shaky moments, but that brain was working on something. And she had a father she was not that close to, who was nowhere near Damiri’s level, not in intelligence and not in leadership qualities.
No. Damiri was no fool. She would do exactly what she considered in her own interest. Tabini would do exactly what he considered in his–which included, above all else, the survival of the one association that kept the atevi world peaceful and prosperous: the aishidi’tat.
The dowager’s ambitions were much the same. The dowager had helped create the aishidi’tat. She had created the last aiji; she had created Tabini; and she had taught Cajeiri.
What did Damiri fight for? What was her driving interest?
It was disturbing that she opposed the dowager . . . and that he had no real answer for that question.
7
Cajeiri, at his homework, because he had nothing else to do, heard the front door open, out in the foyer beyond the hall. That was an ordinary thing. Servants came and went all the time.
Then he heard a familiar young voice out there, and another, and with that, he was out of his chair, out the door of his own suite and down the short hall as fast as he could run.
“Nadiin‑ji!” he exclaimed. Indeed, in the foyer he saw not just two, but all four of his bodyguards.
In uniform. All of them. Antaro and Jegari, had traded the greens and browns of their clan, and went black‑uniformed, black‑ribboned, and armed. They carried pistols in holster, just like the other half of the team, Veijico and Lucasi; and just like any Guild anywhere.
Now–they were real bodyguards.
“Nandi,” Jegari said with a proper little bow, while Seidi, the major domo, stood in the background.
“Are you to stay here now?” he asked, hoping that was the case. And: “You look tired.”
“They are not entirely through the first level,” Lucasi said–Lucasi and Veijico, also brother and sister, like Antaro and Jegari, were years older; but it was Antaro and Jegari who ranked seniors, having been his since he came back to the world, even if they were only apprentices. “There are tests yet to pass, nandi, but we are all back to stay. The rest we can do in stages. From here on–they are no longer apprentices, and we shall race each other up the levels.”
“We shall be sending in the written course work,” Veijico added. “We have a special dispensation, both to test outside the Guild headquarters, and for us to administer the tests. Your father ordered that. We shall be spending time in the Bujavid gym, in hours when you have your father’s aishid on premises, and on the firing range, the same. But otherwise we are intended to stay on premises, nandi. So we shall not leave you again.”
“Well, one is very glad!” Cajeiri said. “Come in, come in!”
He was used to Veijico and Lucasi having guns. There was a special locker in each of their two rooms, where those and other equipment stayed. But he was not used to Antaro and Jegari’s new appearance. He was used to them in ordinary clothing, like him, or lounging about in a variety of tee‑shirts and casuals when they were entirely alone in the evening. Seeing them as somebody he had to obey instead of ordering–that was a little different thing, though he could not think of anyone better for him. They both seemed to have grown overnight, to have gotten bigger, and taller, and actually dangerous‑looking. Like many Taibeni, they had a look, a little sharpness of face, that made a frown quite convincing.
Now everybody had to realize they had authority. That was the point of it all.
Now when they told somebody to move aside, they had better move and not argue.
It also meant Lucasi and Veijico had real partners to back them up in case of trouble, and the four of them all together meant he had a real aishid, who would be with him all his life, more permanent than any marriage. How important that was, he had come to understand in the way Great‑grandmother’s aishid and nand’ Bren’s aishid operated–and how his father’s aishid was desperately trying to operate, except they were all young.
Trust? He had always had that for Antaro and Jegari, from the day they had met. Lucasi and Veijico were much newer in the house, and they had made a bad start, when they had thought they were above belonging to a child. But after they had acted out and gotten people hurt, and after Great‑grandmother’s and nand’ Bren’s bodyguards had had their say, Lucasi and Veijico had come back with a deeply changed attitude and begged to stay.
And he’d known, then, that they meant it. Just . . . known, somehow, at the bottom of his stomach. From that time on, trust had happened, which was very important. Best of all, they were really good, and they knew interesting things, and they were perfectly accepting of Antaro and Jegari now, saying that they were no fools, that their skills had been very high to start with, and that after a few years, being five years older or younger would not be that much, anyway.
“We have yet to get our briefing from your father’s guard,” Veijico said.
“Go,” he said, “And then tell me what you find out, nadiin‑ji! No one ever tells me anything. There was a party last night, and a big Guild meeting about something. I think my grandfather is making trouble, and I want to know. It is important that I know. I have things also to tell you!”