There were two keys to getting the Edi representation accepted. One was Lord Geigi, who, being the real lord of Kajiminda, and a good man, had long enjoyed the man’chi of the Edi people—before he had gone to space and left his estate to his sister and her fool son. If Geigi could sort out his domestic problems and regain that man’chi, his influence over the Edi could make the proposal a great deal more palatable to several factions.

The other key to the situation, oddly enough, was Ilisidi’s sometime lover and Cajeiri’s great-uncle—Lord Tatiseigi of the Atageini, that hidebound old man who didn’t approve of trains, telephones, television, space travel, humans, Southerners, Taibeni, west coasters, or anything ever imported from those sources.

Uncle Tatiseigi ran the Padi Valley Association, with its powerful sub-associations, on the sheer force of his antiquity. No, he didn’t want Tatiseigi here at Najida, physically, but dealing withTatiseigi was inevitablec and possibly to the good, since Tatiseigi swung a big weight with the conservatives—and since Ilisidi, above all others, could reason with the old man.

Especially since shehad evidently wanted to do this fifty years ago—bringing the disenfranchised majority of the west coast into the house of lords. Depend on it, ultimately Ilisidi tended to win her arguments, and knew Tatiseigi like a well-read book.

The wonder to him was that Tabini, the cleverest and most underhanded politician the continent had witnessed in centuries, second only to Ilisidi, had just walked in, passed that issue by with fairly moderate comment, and let his eight-year-old son stay in the middle of the situation.

The paidhi, who rated himself the thirdcleverest politician on the continent, was left wondering what had just happened, how many Marid agents there might be in the vicinity that Tabini’s agents hadn’tferreted out—and whether he, the human who didn’t have atevi senses to read the currents, was going to be blindsided twice in this war of towering egos and ancient agendas.

First on his own agenda, definitely, had to be making sure the Edi didn’t put an unfavorable intrepretion on the aiji’s visit.

And that meant making sure the Edi knew the aiji-dowager hadn’t changed her opinion.

Thatmeant dealing with Ilisidi when her blood was up.

A fool would do that. He wrote out a message, went out into the hall and gave it to a junior servant to give to Cenedi, senior of the dowager’s bodyguard. It said:

Certainly the Edi have noted the coming and going of the aiji-dowager’s grandson. The paidhi-aiji has accordingly sent an informal message to the Edi leadership offering a consultation should they wish one. The paidhi-aiji willingly takes all responsibility for such a meeting, whether on the premises or in the village, unless the aiji-dowager wishes otherwise.The answer came back in a few minutes. It read:

The paidhi-aiji may assure the Edi leadership that our statements stand.And from the Edi leadership, within the next hour, a young man, definitely not the Grandmother of Najida village, arrived in the little office, escorted by Banichi and Jago, and bowed respectfully. Dola, he said his name was, and one recalled seeing him the night of the village council meeting.

“Nand’ paidhi, the Grandmother asks if there is any change in the understandings.”

“One can assure the Grandmother that there is no change at all. The aiji had heard of the agreement.” That was a diplomatic understatement. “He issued no instruction about it. He was persuaded that his son was safe and that his grandmother was comfortable in her situation. The paidhi-aiji attended that meeting and knows these statements to be true. And the aiji-dowager particularly asks me to assure the Edi that the understandings have not changed.”

A bow and an immediately relaxed countenance. “Nand’ paidhi, one will say so.”

“One is grateful, nadi.” He bowed in turn, and that was that. The young man left, and he went back to his papers.

One matter handled.

The five clans of the Marid would be—doubtless having gotten wind of the visit by now—furious.

Beyond furious. If a leader of the Marid had had his schemes go this far astray—not only losing their smoothly running plot to marry their way into control of Kajiminda, but now provoking the aishidi’tat into establishing their historic enemies the Edi as a new power on the coast—that leader had to fear his own neighbors, whom he regularly held in check by threat and judicious assassination. In the last half-year that young man, who had loomed as the dark eminence behind Murini’s takeover—thus poised to assassinate Murini and take over the whole aishidi’tat—had lost the west coast a second time, thanks largely to the paidhi-aiji’s visit here, and was about to see the Marid’s old enemies gain legitimacy. If somebody attempted to take out Machigi, it would notbe somebody who favored the Edi taking power. It would most likely be somebody else from the Marid, incensed at his failure.

Perilous times indeed.

“The move to the library is proceeding, nadiin-ji?” he asked Banichi and Jago, when they came back after escorting the latest visitor to the front door.

“Proceeding rapidly,” Jago said. “We shall not break down all the equipment at once. Part of it will be set up and running in the library before we move the rest.”

A good idea, he thought, that they not be blind at any given moment. Matters had gotten that dicey over the last few days. There hadn’t been this concentration of high-value targets on the west coast in two hundred yearsc all sitting in Najida, which was a sprawling country house, not an ancient fortress.

And Machigi of the Taisigin Marid?

Machigi was going to move. He had to.

Bet on it.

4

« ^ »

One of the mundane tasks of the paidhi’s residency in Najida had been finding a replacement for the estate bus— which had lately come to grief—along with the service gate, the garden utility gate, the garage door, the garden wall, and part of the arbor.

And while the lord of Najida naturally wantedto patronize local businesses, the only dealer in such vehicles in the region was down in Separti Township, a district in which Tabini’s forces were still ferreting out the last of a Marid cell—the same cell that was indirectly responsiblefor the disaster to the gates, the garage door, and the garden premises.

So the paidhi had regretfully sent his business elsewhere: a call to his office staff in the Bujavid in Shejidan—and to his bank—had reportedly solved the problem, and the item had been acquired with no delay at all, and shipped. He had had his Shejidan staff select a stout, security-grade vehicle from a random choice among three such dealers in Shejidan, one with ample seating for, oh, about thirty persons.

His chief secretary had called back yesterday asking if he wanted to outlay extra for blackout shielding on the windows— no actual protection, but a way of making life more difficult for snipers.

Yes, that had seemed a good idea, all things considered.

Weight mattered. A totally secure vehicle, involving bulletproof glass as well, was a very slow-moving vehicle, and gulped fuel, a dependency which became its own vulnerability in attempting to maneuver across Sarini Province, which had very few fueling stations. He had fared well in the past by relying on agility. So, no, he would not prefer the armor-sided version, which was more apt for city use.

But the blackout shields would certainly be nice.

It was an expensive vehicle, far exceeding the ancient rattletrap of a bus they had wrecked. And an extravagance—but the old bus had been the same vintage as the village truck, the same as the grading and mowing and harvest equipment, warehoused and maintained down in Najida village—along with a firetruck, a pumper, for anyone in the district who needed it— all of these antiques inherited from the previous lord of Najida, now deceased. The village constabulary and its deputies were the usual mechanics, drivers, and operators of all these vehicles in Najidac and they would have to urgently read up on the manual for this one, one supposed. The new bus would be larger, air-conditioned, modern at every turn: and God knew there would be a learning curve—but they were adept mechanics, no fools at all, and at least the learning would be on country roads, not in winding city lanes.