Toby and Barb-daja had gone to their basement room to get some rest. Cajeiri sat in the corner of mani’s room, teaching Jegari and Antaro chess.

And he had just made a bad move, because he had been thinking about what was going on upstairs instead of where his district lord was sitting relative to the magistrate.

Antaro made the correct move. He lost a district.

“Good,” he said confidently, as if he had been testing her.

Louder gunfire. A heavy boom that shook the walls.

“That’s out on the road,” Jegari muttered, looking up.

“I hope it was them and not us.”

“Hssst!” mani said, objecting to the turn of conversation. The cane thumped sharply. “Bad enough we are confined down here with the spare linens and the brooms. Shall we also endure pointless speculation?”

“One is extravagantly sorry, mani,” Cajeiri said, half-rising, with a little bow, and sat back down. He knew better than to chatter when Great-grandmother was upset and out of sorts.

Great-grandmother truly hated fidgeting. And probably her back hurt. They had gotten pillows for her chair, and Great-grandmother, on principle, refused to fidget with them.

They went back to their chess game. “One apologizes, nandi,” Jegari said under his breath.

“One is not concerned, nadi-ji,” he murmured, and advanced a village lord.

Great-grandmother and Geigi continued talking quietly, about anything but what was going on outside.

The rifle fire up above became more frequent, and it sounded scarily closer.

17

« ^ »

The fueling station turned out to be a farming village. “One requests you get to the floor, Bren-ji,” Banichi said. “We are going right down the street as if we belong here.”

Getting down onto the floor was not a comfortable act, but Bren managed it, braced against the bench seat, familiar situation. Tano and Algini got down, too, along with Lucasi, in the theory, he knew well enough, that if enemy fire took out Banichi and Jago, it wouldn’t get all of them at once.

Little chance the villagers themselves would fire at them. Word would have gone out by radio that there was a Guild action proceeding, and it was against all common sense for a civilian to interfere in a Guild action. It was a law that kept civilians alive and kept their property undamaged. It limited return actions and moreFilings. And for what these villagers ought to know, the law applied. If the Guild wanted to confiscate the local fuel supply, the village magistrate would complain to his lord, notably Machigi or Geigi, depending on which side of the border he felt they were on, or would apply to both, and request compensation. The lord who presided would supply the fuel for their farm machinery and then send the fuel charges to the Filing party, a modest claim that was incredibly bad form to dispute and fairly bad form to pad, though it happened.

So the village was not their worry: the village would just phone Tanaja and advise them of a problem. The villagers personally had nothing to defend, no worry about action coming at them except stray bullets or somebody deciding to interdict the enemy’s fuel supply by draining the tank, the stealthy option, or blowing it up, the attention-getting one, and entailing a much larger lawsuit once the dust settled.

In any case, if things went as usual, the villagers would always get their justice. And Guild in the field would not have to worry about some desperate and innocent amateur with a gun.

They stopped, Bren judged, somewhat apart from the pumps. Algini scrambled up and out the side door, which wasn’t usual— their explosives expert looked at the pump before they pulled up to it.

Which brought really uncomfortable thoughts. There were all sorts of nasty tricks that never should be used where civilians might stumble into them. And he worried about them until Algini thumped quietly on the fender, had them move up, and unscrewed the cap.

No booby trap. No explosives, no shots fired. Fuel was flowing. They could get out of here.

They were within lands where law still applied.

Algini came back to the door while the fuel was running and put his head in. “We may get a full tank, Nichi-ji, but by no means certainly so. The last of it may be foul, and I hesitate to put it in. Local maintenance seems slipshod.”

“We should not risk it,” Banichi said. “Cut it off short.”

“Yes,” Algini agreed.

The local fuel delivery hadn’t been made; they were evidently on the short end of the month, a bit of bad luck, pure chance. Baji-naji.

Bren rested his forehead against his hands, on the floor. They might end up hiking the last bit to Najida. He didn’t look forward to that in the least. But he’d do it without objection. Getting safely out of Taisigi territory was absolutely paramount. If they could cut over to the airport or the train station—but those were likely targets.

Damn the luck that had moved the Shejidan Guild onto the offensive before they got clear.

But it was not luck. It was a reaction to the dowager’s move. He had no doubt about it. And Ilisidi was probably having a quiet fit about the situation. And planning next actions.

Which the paidhi-aiji hoped to God wouldn’t involve sending him immediately back to Tanaja to mop up and settle what the Guild had upended, but he was relatively sure either she would or Tabini would. He had that to look forward to.

One bath, a good supper. A day to rest up. Thenhe’d go. Once the shooting stopped.

If Machigi was still in charge.

Likely Machigi was on a boat somewhere—maybe headed out to Sungeni territory, in the Isles, allies he could rely on.

The nozzle was withdrawn; the fuel cap went back on. Thump. “How much do we have?”

Jago asked, and Banichi answered: “Three quarters. Our next source is the airport, if we go that direction.”

“Dangerous,” Tano said.

“We have one choice,” Banichi said, as Algini joined them and shut the door. “There is the hunting lodge.”

A small silence. That evidently was not a popular choice.

“We could divert toward the township south road,” Jago said. “Time taken, but safer. There is that fuel stop midway.”

“One can walk if need be,” Bren said, from his position on the floor. “If we have to, nadiin-ji, I shall do it. Or one can take cover and wait.”

“We shall attempt the airport, Bren-ji,” Banichi said as he put them in gear. The dialogue was truncated, dropping courtesies, the Guild in mid-operation. “From these roads, there should be an indirect approach.”

For now. Depending on what they met. If they could once reach the airport road, it was a straight shot to Najida.

From Lucasi, throughout, there had been not a sound, nor any now, as Banichi restarted the engine. The young man, lying on the floor opposite Bren, was the picture of exhaustion, head pillowed on his arm. He actually slept while the van sped through the village and onto rougher road.

There was something to be said for being horizontal, even on a dirty floor mat. Bren stayed put, and Tano stretched out on the seat, doing much the same above him, eyes shut; Banichi was driving as fast as the roads allowed. In places grass had grown up and whipped the undercarriage—lying with his ear near the floorboards, Bren was well-aware of the ground under them. In places they scattered gravel, and once they drove through water. A road on the continent and especially near an uneasy border region, was an approximation of a driveable route, not a guarantee. In disputed territory, particularly, nobody did road maintenance.

It suited their purposes, so long as the wheels and tires held out.

But his bodyguard were still discussing the route and a branch in the road ahead. He caught the edge of it, which involved passive reception of some signal and the possibility of encountering legitimate Guild at the airport. Or the enemy. Legitimate Guild would, the consensus was, move on the airport and the train station. They would take those as a priority.