Nowadays the breached walls, interspersed with zig-zag rail fence, would simply be keeping wandering herds of game out of the formal gardens that showed in those gaps. It was a picturesque house, with its two standing towers and its curved tile roof, a regional style. The television antenna somewhat spoiled the effect.
Lord Geigi stirred from his nap, or his pretense of one, even rising from his seat for a moment’s better look out the front window.
“I have not seen Targai since I was a boy,” Geigi said to Bren. “It has not changed. Not visibly. Except for the antenna. And the power lines.”
One of Geigi’s bodyguard said: “Best sit down, nandi. For safety.”
Geigi sat down. The bus kept up its steady pace toward the gate.
At any moment, literally at any moment, they might come under fire. And as yet nobody had said that the non-Guild among them should get down on the floor.
“Should one not get down at this point?” Bren asked Jago.
“We have surveillance on the grounds, Bren-ji. But if you would feel safer, do so.”
“The aiji’s men are already here?”
Jago shrugged. It fell under the heading of not discussing Guild operations, but one began to regard those ancient towers in a different light. He had the very uncomfortable vest on—leaving his head vulnerable, but that was, he hoped, a significantly smaller target, and one did not expect the paidhi-aiji to be wearing body armor.
He sat where he was, behind opaque windows, as the bus pulled into the drive and trundled on around to the great house.
A pair of Guildsmen in black exited the house—placing themselves in great jeopardy. And if those were not the aiji’s, Bren thought, his pulse racing a bit, they were likely native to the region, and deeply loyal, to be exposing themselves like that—granted they knew about the Filing.
Their own situation was potentially looking up—or getting far worsec because that brave gesture of peace politely required another, reciprocal gesture, which—he felt a rising tide of apprehension—had to come from Guild of similar rank, unless they meant to wade in shooting.
The bus braked. Banichi and Jago got up, and Bren bit his lip and knewwho had to deal with this welcoming committee.
He leaned forward, himself. “Nadiin-ji,” he said. “Tell Lord Pairuti he has a safe refuge with the paidhi-aiji if he will take it. Tell them so, urgently.”
Jago listened, then inclined her head once, grimly, before the door opened and she followed Banichi off the bus—Tano and Algini taking up position with leveled rifles behind them in the doorway thus exposed.
The bus door faced the welcoming committee. There were weapons in evidence on the other side, but not drawn.
And wherever Tabini’s men were, it was not, at the moment, here, where such a threatening presence would have been very useful.
One of the pair said—Bren could hear it clearly: “Stand there, nadi.”
And Banichi answered her: “Advise Lord Pairuti, nadi, that he has an offer of safety and personal intercession from the paidhi-aiji. Your lord, we believe, is aware of the Filing of Intent.”
“He is aware of it, nadi.”
There was a moment of silence, then. Bren could not entirely see what was happening because of the doorframe, but he saw Jago standing quite, quite still, with her hand ominously near her sidearm.
“There is a signal passed, Bren-ji,” Tano said without diverting his eyes from their potential targets. “Banichi has asked whether they are under duress. They have responded they are under internal threat.”
Handsigns, that silent language of the Guild.
They had a problem, then. Marid agents—in the house. These two were out here in a desperate bid to negotiatec
Either that, or these two were lying and intended to set them up.
Tano said, sharply, “Bren-ji, up! Get off the bus. We are taking the house.”
Damn! Bren thought, and flung himself to his feet and around the rail to reach the steps with Tano and Algini right with him. He thought he was going to run for the doors. But Tano seized him around the ribs in one arm and outright carried him to the front of the house, setting him down to the side of the entry as Banichi and Jago kicked wide the half-open house doors and fired one volley down the hall.
Then they were not alone. From cover of somewhere—the ornamental bushes down the drive, the ancient, crumbled masonry beyond, God knew—there suddenly appeared other black uniforms, guns lifted, signal of peace.
Tabini’s men, Bren thought, heart lifting.
The two local Guild meanwhile turned their backs to the situation, hands held outward, a declaration they were not going to contest the takeover, Bren saw with a sideward glance. He felt sorry for them: they were in a hell of a situation, relying on hisword there was a chance to save their lord.
But if the wrong word came out of the house, those two would fight. And die without a chance.
Geigi’s guard had reached the door of the house just a little ahead of Geigi himself reaching Bren’s position. The bodyguard had their rifles aimed generally up, but a scant heartbeat from going level and wreaking destruction down the hall.
Tano and Algini kept themselves in the way, cutting off view of any proceedings inside the building, while Banichi and Jago continued to issue orders from just inside. Nobody had touched the two local Guildsmen, who had not moved in all this, not a muscle.
“Lord Pairuti is offered the paidhi-aiji’s intercession!” Banichi’s voice rang down the hall. “Let him come out and surrender to the paidhi-aiji!”
There was silence inside. Bren was not in a position to see what was going on; there was a large bush and Tano’s very tall body between him and the hall. Tano maintained a grip on his arm with his left hand, the rifle in his right, tucked under his arm. On the other was Algini, also armed, and partially blocking his view of Lord Giegi, who was similarly jammed into the bushes, with four or five of the newly arrived Guildsmen between their positions. The two still-armed bodyguards maintained their posture, waiting, arms outstretched, unmoving.
“ Come out!” Banichi shouted down the inner hall, with Jago standing right by him—her rifle aimed right down that hallway.
Fire came back, a shot so loud Bren jerked; and in the same muscle-twitch their side fired back.
“Stay here, nandi!” Tano said, half a heartbeat behind Algini moving. They took up position in the doorway: Bren stood pat, heart pounding, wondering what had happened, whether Banichi and Jago were all right. He could just see Banichi down on one knee, with rifle braced to fire. Nobody was shooting now. And in a moment Bren saw Jago shift into view, standing, rifle covering the hall.
Algini moved, to insinuate himself past the open door and cover both Banichi and Jago, with no fire at all.
Then Bren became aware that Guild around them had moved—some vanishing from the driveway without a sound, just gone, when Bren looked back in Geigi’s direction: the corner of the house offered a likely destination. Others had dragged the two locals out of the line of fire and applied medical aid to one of them—who must have been felled by that shot.
For a moment that gesture of mercy was the only movement, one of the two brought down by a shot presumably from their own side, and surgery being performed right on the driveway, in the cover of the bus.
Not a nice situation, no.
But it was over, he was thinking, starting to plan how he was going to get into the hall.
Banichi and Jago opened fire suddenly, a deafening discharge; and simultaneously moved, with Geigi’s bodyguard at their backs. There was nothing Tano and Algini could do about the situation, not with two helpless lords in their care. Bren had the pistol in his pocket, but he left it there: they already had the example of friendly fire on the driveway. And he stayed right where he was, beside the open door, next to a row of bushes; and they daren’t budge from here. Geigi was immediately behind him.