“Have we not said so?” Tatiseigi said from across the room.
“Human influence comes in, human goods, human wealth, and now we have a confusion in man’chi and a galloping calamity of unrest in the rural provinces. Did we not warn at the outset this would be the result, aiji-ma? We warned you not to promote this human!”
“In the calamities you name,” Tabini said sharply, “is the fault in the paidhi-aiji, that greed and ambition break out among us? Power is the question. Power has always been the issue, and whether there will be an aishidi’tat in future, or whether this moment will give a toehold to the lurkers-in-wait who want power and who will carve the aishidi’tat into regions and interests, even if all they gain is the chance to battle each other for scraps of interest to themselves. Ambition of that sort has existed from the foundation of the world. Outright folly and selfish greed! And blame the paidhi-aiji that folly found an opportunity? Never lay that failing at the paidhi’s feet. Was it my folly not to have broken the houses of the conspirators? The paidhi may have counseled moderation but the power to act was constantly in my hands.”
“Oh, let us not forget the Kadagidi,” Ilisidi said. “Let us not overlook their flaws. Think of that, Tati-ji. You relied on their promises. You listened. The Atageini took them for house-guests and even married into the clan.”
“I listened to them?” Tatiseigi cried. “Three hundred years sitting on our boundary, the upstarts, and sending their feuds across our border, politicking with the Ragi, with the Kaoni, with the Edi, and with us—yes, we have connections with the Kadagidi. One cannot live as neighbors for three hundred years without some connections, however unfortunate, and indeed we took our turn believing in the aishidi’tat, in ignoring the numbers, in attempting to mend old feuds and patch up old differences with our neighbors, precisely the Kadagidi, as we were advised to do, as we were even threatened with high displeasure if we failed to do! Yes, thanks to the aishidi’tat we have cross-connections, lately forged, against our better judgment and by the blandishments of young fools hot to marry—but the aishidi’tat was created precisely to knit associations together and overcome these old feuds, was it not? It was to give us all advantage! And where is the usefulness of the aishidi’tat now in protecting us, when we fritter away our resources, fling our wealth off into the ether, and create this house in the heavens where we mix what experience has shown us should never be mixed, not just Atageini with Kadagidi, gods more fortunate! But humans with atevi, which has always brought war!
Have we forgotten that?”
The grip had closed on Bren’s shoulder. He was sure he would have bruises, so tight had it become. And never mind the chief offender in politicking with the Kadagidi through the most recent years had been Tatiseigi himselfc attempting to straighten out these tangled old and new connections, that might be the truth, but at the same time forming a close association entirely troublesome, even threatening to the aishidi’tat. The whole Padi Valley sat as the geographical heart of the country, and, partly due to Tatiseigi, it was always in a flutter.
And never doubt this old curmudgeon would have made a move to take the aijinate for himself years ago if he remotely had the backing. That a descendant of his was Tabini’s heir was the only reason they were safe under this roof.
Tabini said not a thing to that argument.
But Damiri, Atageini herself, had no such reserve. “And have Atageini never contributed materially to the Kadagidi’s indiscretions? Have you not looked for your own advantage in their upheavals, encouraged their conniving with the south? Where were you when a simple refusal to shelter their dissident members would have put them within reach of the Guild and saved us all this trouble?”
“Oh, now, indeed, niece!” Tatiseigi said.
“Indeed?” Ilisidi said ominously. “Indeed you have done so repeatedly, nor can deny it, Tati-ji. And did I not tell you where this double-dealing would lead? We told you to dispose of Murini. Now we have arrived at the destination of this policy of yours. We are clearly there, at this moment.”
“Bren-ji,” Tabini said quietly, easing his grip and massaging the shoulder he had abused, “at this threshold of a memorable family fight, do us a great favor and go outside. Be sure our son stays safe.
Go. And we shall see you this evening, if these households survive.”
“Aiji-ma.” He got up, still feeling the impression of fingers and a tingling in his arm. He bowed, and bowed generally, then specifically and very politely bowed to their host. “With your permission, nandi,” he said to Tatiseigi, and immediately headed for the door.
In one part, oh, he wanted to know exactly what Tabini meant to say regarding the family business between the Ragi clan and the Atageini that had been simmering all his career. But in another, more sensible part he was absolutely sure that it would by no means improve a human’s welcome with Uncle Tatiseigi if he stayed to witness the family laundry laid out in order.
All was still decorously quiet as he shut the door, nodded a quiet courtesy to Tabini’s chief of security, then picked up Jago.
“We are to find the heir,” he said quietly, “on the aiji’s request.
One assumes Banichi and Cenedi are already on the track.” It was still all too quiet behind that door, but then, atevi fights were sometimes exceedingly quiet, phrased in extravagant politeness, interspersed by long silences, and occasionally with whole pots of tea, simply because the recourse to misstatement could be deadly.
In very fact, the aiji under anyone’s roof was the one who gave the orders, with quiet, polite acknowledgment of his host, it was true; but Tabini would give the orders.
And the warlike half of those gathered on the lawn and up and down the drive, the really experienced fighters, as opposed to the farmers and shopkeepers, were all the aiji’s forces. Lord Tatiseigi had no means to object to the aiji’s presence or his decisions, and no profit in doing so. Tatiseigi had always skirted the edges of conflicts, never directly stood for or against anything, and now, in the heir, he had a route to power, if only he stayed quiet, and if only the aiji won the day. So he was quite, quite confident Tabini would have his way, whatever that way was.
It was, however, very likely that the paidhi was going to be a central subject of debate inside that room. Words might be passed that Tabini had no wish for him to hear.
At very worst— “The young gentleman has his young escort with him, nandi,”
Jago said as they moved. “He ran down to the steps and out the door.”
“To find the house fuel tank,” he murmured as they negotiated the steps off the main floor and into the foyer, under the scaffolding.
“The fuel tank?” Jago asked.
That did sound entirely ominous, in mental review. It might become even more ominous, if youthful security grew distracted in a press of the curious and enthusiastic around the young stranger.
There was a remote possibility of Kadagidi infiltrators on the estate, more apt to conceal their movements within a crowd. In that thought he hastened his steps, under the scaffolding around the damaged frieze of the entryway, across a scatter of carpentry shavings at the door, and emerged into the afternoon sun, on steps high above what had been a stately hedge, elegant lawn, and cobbled drive.
The jam on the cobbled drive now stretched out of sight among the hedges and over the hill. Mecheiti grazed the lawn, among tents, and the hedges were in tatters. The nearest vehicles had become gathering points for a motley collection of townsmen armed with hunting rifles, some ladies and gentlemen, doubtless town officials, wearing brocade coats by no means suited to rough living.