Dammit.

“What do they want?” Bren reprised the question.

“They say, to test the proposed treaty.”

Right into an Edi district. With gunfire breaking out.

“A renegade convoy went that direction,” Bren said. “Can you call them, Banichi? Can you find out who is firing?”

Banichi opened the bag he had brought with him and rapidly plugged his short-range communications into the larger unit.

He made the call. Or tried to. No response. Then something did get through. Banichi gave back a set of code words.

“They are engaged with the renegades,” Banichi said. “But report a second direction of fire, indiscriminate.”

The Edi. God. “They should not come farther west,” Bren said. “Tell them to hold where they are.”

Damn!

And they had to stop it.

***

There was racket outside. Cajeiri thought it was the yellow plane landing.

But it was not the plane. And he was not sitting in the hall any more. He was lying on the couch in Great-grandmother’s sitting-room, and Antaro and Jegari were standing nearby.

And the young lord of Dur, very impressive-looking in his brown leather coat, which Cajeiri so wanted—was standing on the other side of the room talking to Great-grandmother and Cenedi.

The plane had landed, and the young lord of Dur was here, and here he was, waking up on mani’s couch looking stupid.

He got up, fast.

“Is my ribbon tied?” he whispered to his bodyguard, since he had been lying on it.

“Yes, nandi,” Jegari said.

He knew his coat was wrinkled. He tried to put it to rights. Antaro and Jegari helped him, and he went very quietly over to where the young lord was talking to mani.

Mani was, however, in a cheerful mood.

“We shall retire for a while,” mani said, “since my great-grandson has now come back to the living. Cenedi, you are to go off duty for a while. That is an order. Lord Geigi is abed and has not roused. Dur is surely exhausted.”

“It has been a long day, aiji-ma,” the young lord said. “But a good day. Excellent news.”

“Nandi,” Cajeiri said with a little bow. “Mani-ma. News?”

A gentle thump of the cane, which rarely left Great-grandmother’s hands. “We have just dispatched the bus up from the village—where it has sat out this nuisanceful day. Nawari has called for it. He is in contact with nand’ Bren’s guard. There is another inconvenient circumstance reported, but we demand sleep before we deal with it.”

“The bus is going to pick up nand’ Bren!”

“That it is, young gentleman,” Cenedi said. “But say nothing yet to nand’ Toby. We do not have him back.”

“May one ask?” he began, feeling wobbly on his feet. “May one ask, mani-ma—?”

“We do not yet have him back,” mani repeated. “Do not trouble nand’ Toby with what we cannot answer. But Nawari has called for the bus. He is in contact with the paidhi’s guard. Go find your bed, young gentleman. It is not over. Sleep when you can.”

“Mani,” he said, bowed, and managed to walk decorously to the door and let Antaro open it for him.

He walked outside. So did the young lord from Dur, who politely bowed. And one had to apologize. One was embarrrassed, and distracted with worry, and full of questions nobody would answer.

“Nandi,” he said to young Dur, remembering the yellow plane, and his father, and other scary circumstances. “One was waiting to see you.”

“One understands so, nandi. One will be extremely honored to renew the acquaintance at leisure. Nandi.”

Young Dur was clearly on another mission. And in a hurry. With a second bow, he headed down the hall toward the doors.

Everybody knew everything, and he just stood there feeling foolish and upset. “Nadiin,” he said to Antaro and Jegari.

“Dur-nandi spotted nand’ Bren,” Antaro said, “and his aishid has just gotten to him. Nawari has not gotten there yet, but he has called for the bus; and your father’s men are landing at the airport right now—we shall have help very soon, nandi.”

That was good news. That was a great relief, on that matter.

“But the Taisigi followed nand’ Bren,” Jegari said. “And they are about to run right into the Edi. And the lord of Dur’s plane is on his way, and some of the Gan people are with him.

They are coming in at the airport, as soon as they are clear to land; and young Dur is just now on his way to the airport to explain the situation with the Edi when his father gets here—

hoping the Gan people with his father can keep the Edi from attacking the Taisigi.”

He was too tired. Things all jumbled up together. “So what is anybody going to do?” he said.

“How can mani go to bed?”

“One doubts she actually will, nandi. One suspects she and Cenedi are going to be on the phone with your father.”

“And tell him he should dosomething?” He was in favor of that. “We shall go to the security station.” He could hardly walk, he was so tired. But walk he did.

And the first thing he heard was something about the bus.

They had just changed its orders. His father’s men had intercepted it at the intersection, and they were sending it to the airport instead.

The security station contacted Cenedi. While they stood listening, Cenedi ordered the village to send the truck out; but that was evidently at Kajiminda.

They stood there very quietly, trying to be inconspicuous.

Then Cenedi showed up, not happy, no; so something was going to happen. Fast.

***

It was as fast as a human could walk, in deteriorating boots, with blisters, and the effects of bruised ribs, but Bren put on the best effort he had in him, wading through tall grass and forcing a path past obstinate, reaching brush. Guild leathers shed the burrs and stickery seeds.

His clothes did not. He had a collection of them, of every available species.

He had had a drink of water, at least, from the canteen. Lucasi, with cracked lips, declined to share it, which won points with Jago: Jago shared her canteen with Lucasi, to the last, and that meant they were now entirely out of waterc but in prospect of it once they intersected with the road, once they met up with the busc they would be all right.

Fire was intermittent in the far distance. There seemed to be no separation of direction. It could be their angle on the situation. It could be that forces had closed on each other. They did not stay now for information.

Close call on a hidden hole; watch his damned feet, was what he most needed to do right now, and he’d been wit-wandering. Pay attention. Business at hand. He had to make it to the road, had to—

They had one locator going now, Jago’s. He saw it blip occasionally. Damnable situation.

The Guild jealously guarded its equipment, its communications, in particular. But the one contingency it hadn’t reckoned with was a schism in its own ranks, equipment compromised all up and down. Nawari was risking his neck using the thing; Jago was on passive reception, he thought; but still only one of their units was on at all, for whatever reason. They had just that one assurancec and the promise of the bus, once they got to the road.

Until Banichi, carrying the communications long-distance unit slung from his shoulder, suddenly reached for his com and listened while he walked.

Then stopped, said something in code, and stood there listening for a very brief moment before he issued another string of code and shut down.

“The aiji’s men have diverted the bus.”

“Tell them that poses a problem,” he said.

“One has said so,” Banichi said. “And Nawari objected to the move. But the aiji’s men have pulled rank.”

Higher-ranking problem. God. An order from the dowager? A direct threat to her or to Cajeiri that they were not talking about, even on Guild channels?