Banichi spoke to someone in verbal code.
And Algini and Tano came in from the hall.
“There seems no present danger,” Algini said. “Nor any reason at the moment to raise the level of alert. But we have asked Lord Tatiseigi to order all persons assigned to an area to stay in that area, and not to have staff moving about until we resolve this matter.”
That seemed a very good idea, in Bren’s estimation. “Is there any word from the capital,” Bren asked, “or should one be asking that question?”
“There is no alarm from the Bujavid,” Banichi said. “We have Taibeni moving on foot to the site of the disturbance, to locate any visible clue, and in case there is another such movement.”
Jago had been listening to something, sitting silent at the side of the room. “Word is now officially passing,” she said, standing up, “that the assassination this morning was carried out in a Guild manner. There has still been no public notice of a Filing.”
Without a public Filing.
No way was that legal, under any ordinary circumstances. A within‑clan assassination could be kept quiet–but it still had to go through Guild Council to show cause and it required substantial support within the clan.
“Gini‑ji,” Banichi said quietly, and Algini looked Banichi’s direction a moment. Then Algini nodded.
“Bren‑ji,” Banichi said. “Algini will tell you something which the dowager knows–but Lord Tatiseigi does not. This has been affecting our decisions and our advice. This is the information we sent Lord Geigi. We are not, at this point, briefing Jase‑aiji. This regards the inner workings of the Guild, and how the coup that set Murini in power was organized, how the organization persisted past Murini, and why Tabini‑aiji barred Ajuri from Shejidan. The aiji also is informed. Whether he has informed the aiji‑consort is at his discretion. We have urged him not to.”
Answers. God.
If they had figured all that out–on the one hand it was possible they had found what they had been trying to find for most of the last year; and on the other it was possible what they had been trying to find had located them, and this whole rearrangement of key individuals and their security was under threat.
Algini rarely gave anyone a straight and level look. He did now, arms folded, voice quiet: “We have known much of this since the affair on the coast, Bren‑ji. Information we sifted out of the Marid confirmed what we increasingly suspected: that Murini was no more than a figurehead. Convenient, capable of some management, yes, but he was at all times only nominally in charge. He appeared. He gave orders. But there were individuals who pressed a more organized agenda on him. That agenda involved isolating the aishidi’tat from the station–which they accomplished, as you know, by grounding all but one shuttle. Once isolated, they intended to put a completely new power structure in place in the Bujavid, and, once the aishidi’tat was secure under their rule, to restore contact with Mospheira and the station. Geigi would be removed in some fashion, with the specific goal of putting the atevi side of the station–and its capabilities–under their control.”
Bren pressed his lips on a burning question and Algini said: “Ask, Bren‑ji.”
“ Is the station compromised? Have they agents up there?”
“No.”
Bren took a slow, deep breath, greatly relieved. Without firsthand knowledge of the station, any hope of threatening it as outsiders was sheer fantasy. Atevi in general simply had no idea what Geigi could do from his post in the heavens.
“Needless to say, this goal was kept very quiet. Murini’s public stance was against the new technology, which touched on conservative aims, and led certain individuals to accept Murini as backing traditionalist views. Tatiseigi was safe, despite the Atageini feud with the Kadagidi, because the last thing the powers in charge wanted was to antagonize the Conservative Party by assassinating an elderly man and a head of the conservatives. Tatiseigi at no time supported Murini. He remained an uneasy neighbor of Murini’s clan, even a defiant one. But he remained, as they thought, harmless and useful.”
And hadn’t that assessment backfired, once Tabini returned?
“As to the means by which the coup was organized, Bren‑ji, and this leads to information the Guild does not discuss, regarding its internal workings–there are Guild offices traditionally reserved for members from the smallest clans. For centuries, this has been the case, so as not to allow an overwhelming power to gather in the hands of the greater ones.”
That was not something humans had ever known.
“The Office of Assignments,” Algini said, “is such a post. It is a clerical office, with what would seem a minor bit of power. It does two things. One: it keeps records of missions and Guild membership. And two: it makes recommendations for assignment based on skills, specialization, clan–there are in fact a number of factors involved in designing a team for a mission, or a lasting assignment.”
Algini relaxed a degree and leaned against the buffet edge.
“Historically, and this is taught to every child, the same document that organized the aishidi’tat centuries ago also reorganized the guilds–at least in the center and north of the continent–insisting that the Office of Assignments of all Guild personnel should attempt to find out‑clan units to assign within the clans, rather than permitting the clans to admit only their own. Theoretically, this would place the whole structure of the Guild under the man’chi of the aiji in Shejidan. The theory worked to make the guilds far more effective, to spread information, to stabilize regional associations, to unify the aishidi’tat in a way impossible as long as clan man’chi and kinships overpowered man’chi to one’s guild. Without that–the whole continent would not have flourished as it has. The East and the Marid declined to accept the out‑clan rule, and these regions have remained locked in regional feuds, exactly as it was before the aishidi’tat, to their economic and social detriment. The aiji‑dowager has made some inroads into the tradition in the East–one need not say–and the new legislation is bringing change to the Marid.”
A pause. A deep breath.
“Historically, then–the out‑clan provision has worked. And–for much of the history of the aishidi’tat, the Office of Assignments of the Assassins’ Guild has done its part well. It has kept its records, formed teams, and sent its recommendations to other offices to be stamped and approved by the Guild Council. There are so many of these assignments across the continent . . . it is routine. The stamp is automatic. One cannot remember there ever being a debate on them. Most often the local authority accepts, at its end, and the assignment is recorded. Understand, the Office of Assignments is a little place, smaller than this room, except its records‑room. It is not computerized. The current Director of the Office of Assignments has been running that office for forty‑two years. He has his own system, and he has resisted any technological change. He refuses to wear a locator, he will not accept a communications unit. The wits have it that he would have resisted electric light, except it had been installed the day before he took the office. It was not quite that long ago, but modernity does not set foot there. His name is Shishoji. And he is Ajuri.”
God. His administrator with the chessboard. A fusty little old man in a clerical office. A little old man who happened to be Ajuri.
“One had begun to suspect,” Bren said, “that this might involve some individual with an agenda.”
Algini nodded. “On the surface, it seems a little power, but placed in the hands of a person with an agenda, it is a considerable power–to know all the history of a team, and their man’chi, and to make assignments the Council traditionally approves without a second glance, before it gets down to its daily business.”