These were the legislators who had stood up to Murini and the Kadagidi claim. These were, among others, canny men and women who would already have conceived their own plans, protecting their own interests, ready to assert their power the moment the fragile convocation so much as shivered, let alone fell into discord. One could still hope these powerful lords conceived the aishidi’tat itself of vital interest to their constituents.
The documents spread across the chamber with ordinary dispatch. The legislators were accustomed to receiving printed materials at ordinary sessions, and few broke the seals or delved deeply into them. Most present found greater interest in small, hurried conversations with neighbors and allies, interspersed with speculative dais-watching, darting looks toward the aiji and his household—how the boy has grown, they might observe; or the dowager looks in fair health; or note that the consort is beside the aiji, and the Atageini lord has come in person, in the first row of the tashrid. And is that the lord of the Taibeni in the hall? Does anyone know him by sight?
Slow breathing, Bren chided himself, and slow the heart rate.
This would take time. There had to be a certain amount of maneuvering and posturing, and he was a veteran of the legislature, if not of joint sessions. He did some surveying of his own from his position on the dais, picking out this and that lord, even spotting a few who had been on the Transportation Committee, scene of his last battles before his personal world had undergone upheaval—before a shadow on his bedroom curtains had announced his life was going to become something completely different.
Years ago. They all had changed. The world had changed.
And changed again. At the moment he had nowhere to live, and his staff was farther from him than they liked to be, in very chancy circumstances.
Deep breath. He heard the bone-deep sound of the eis, that man-high tubular bell that called the hasdrawad to take their seats.
At that sound, the movement in the chamber became a definitive slow drift toward places, the buzz of conversation fading. Lords found their temporary seats down in the well. Representatives of the populace, many of them mayors or sub-mayors, eased into their desksc among them, perhaps a few who had supported Murini before or after his attack on Tabini, and now, seeing the tide going the other way, they took the risk of showing up here—maybe to have their contrary opinions heard, maybe to pretend they had never faltered in their man’chi to the Ragi lord, or maybe just to find out what decisions might be taken here, and decide where they wanted to jump next.
A second deep hum of the bell stilled the air. Closer and closer to the moment. Bren moved his fingers and feet slightly, to prove to himself that they would move, that, when he had to stand up, he could. Otherwise he felt numb, dislocated in time and space, and tried not to entertain either foolishly generous or uncharitable thoughts toward certain faces he spotted in the general assembly.
Third stroke of the bell. The senior of the hasdrawad ought to get up and bring the assembly to order, on any ordinary day, but it was Tabini who stood up instead, that sleek, dark presence, tall even among his kind. He appeared grim but not accusatory. He was precise and confident. And in that distinctive deep voice: “Nandiin, nadiin, all points of the north and west and center are secured. We have firm assurances of the east. The Kadagidi have not permitted the traitor to reenter their house. It remains to see whether any houses of the south will prove hospitable to him and his adherents.”
“Nand’ aiji!” someone shouted out, from the middle of the tiers of desks, and others took up the shout: “Aiji! Aiji!” Legislators rose more or less in a body, all shouting and shouting, and Tabini stood still, letting it go on for what approached five minutes, before he lifted his hand and returned the salutation.
“Representatives of the peoplec lords of the ancient houses.” The hand dropped, and there was fervent silence. “We accept your declarations. We will resume the ordinary business of the aishidi’tat, foremost of which—”
The representatives were sinking into their seats. But one figure was starkly different, hand lifting, and of a sudden footsteps thundered on the hollow dais, security moving like lightning as that hand moved upward.
Bren leaped to his feet, seeing only one thing—the man on whom the whole world depended, his dignity making it impossible for him to dive for cover. Bren hit Tabini waist-high with all the force he owned, chairs going over with their fall, security swarming over both of them, just a half-heartbeat later.
He and Tabini and a third and fourth body had hit the platform together, very solid ancient timbers, and as soon as he knew the other bodies were the dowager’s security, Bren clambered off Tabini’s person and scrambled aside, lying on the floor as shots deafened his ears. They were exposed to everything: The dowager and the boy were up here in danger—but Jago had reached him, and Jago’s body cut off his view as she crouched by him, gun in hand.
Tabini got to one knee, and stood up forthwith, to a thunderous cheer from the chamber. A second cheer: Tabini had pulled his son protectively to his side, and Damiri had stood up with them.
The dowager, Bren thought in alarm, and on hands and knees edged a little past Jago to get a view of the dowager sitting quite untroubled in her seat, her cane planted before her, and Cenedi standing between her and the general chamber.
He found himself winded, bruised, and shaken beyond good sense.
He tried to imitate the aiji and get up, but Jago laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. In the next instant another shot went off, and he jumped, pure reaction.
“Banichi,” he said.
“Banichi is attending the problem, nandi,” Jago said quietly, rising and facing the hall. “We did not have confidence in the aiji’s security.”
“But if they would have assassinated him—” he asked from below.
“Not him,” Jago said, beneath the rising buzz in the chamber, the racket of chairs being moved or set back up. “You, nandi. The Guild has no inclination to strike at the aiji: They knew Murini would go down soon. But we have not let the aiji’s security near you. Or the young gentleman, for that matter. One requests you stay down a moment more.”
To make a move that fatal, that absolutely fatal to the shooter, just to get himc He was not surprised that someone wanted to kill him; but the aiji’s own guard, and to do so in such a wild, fanatic way, so at odds with the ordinary way the Guild worked— What Jago said made no damned sense. The shooter had risen from among the legislators, from the hasdrawad, had he not? He had had a seat there? Did a person of such stature pay that high a price, all to shoot down a court functionary?
One did, if such a move struck caution into the aiji, if it robbed the aiji of the aiji’s fiercely held human contact. One did it, if it took power out of Tabini’s hands and put it in others’; and if the aiji’s own guard knew what was going to happen—and let it— His brain raced wildly. He recognized a high-speed fugue for what it was, and tried to gather his wits into the useful present. He felt bruises atop other bruises—hitting Tabini was like hitting a brick wall and it dawned on him that he’d brought the aiji down publicly, a human embarrassment at the most critical of junctures.
Tabini was back in command of the situation, though tumult was still racketing and echoing in the chamber. Tabini ordered something or someone removed and of all things— Of all things, another voice ordered men detained who happened to be the aiji’s own guard—shocking enough; but the voice echoing so loudly through the chamber was Banichi’s.
That did it. He had to see what was going on. He started to his feet. Jago quickly thrust him back down.