Worst was knowing he’d done everything he could do.

It got very still for a while. He heard Tano talking to someone, he thought, on com. Maybe talking to Machigi’s people. Maybe there was a code for Watch out for our allies once you get close to them. Please just shoot at uniforms.

That wasn’t too comforting, either.

His bodyguard and Geigi’s and the dowager’s were scattered out. Lucasi and Tano were still on the truck, which argued that Banichi had taken his plan for a fast retreat, those being the two that weren’t able to sprint for it, but he wished people were a little closer to the truck.

More of the Edi showed up. Once, through the driver’s rolled-down window, he heard a scattering of whistles and began to think, they cancommunicate. They arecommunicating.

That was hopeful. That was hopeful in a major way. But he wasn’t hearing the firing nearly as often now.

Something was going on. There were just the whistles.

The Edi were moving.

Moving back.

Then a distant fire opened up.

That—that might be Machigi.

And one couldn’t damned well hear. One couldn’t get a direction on it. Bren opened the door, slid down to the step-down and held on to the door, getting down. He didn’t want to distract anybody.

He just wanted—

“Bren-ji!” Tano said from the rear of the truck. He turned around, saw Tano leaning on the sidewall of the truck, pointing off to the northwest. Lucasi struggled to the same vantage with a thump that rocked the truck, as gunfire rattled steadily in the distance.

“What is it?” he asked.

Tano pressed the com to his ear, talking to someone. “The bus!” Lucasi cried. “The bus is on the road, nandi!”

He still saw nothing. But he trusted atevi hearing. He stood holding on to the truck door, hoping the engine block was some shield against anything coming his direction.

They had the bus, they lost the bus—somebody outranked them and took it from them. And now it came back.

Without a damned word.

“Bren-ji,” Tano said. “Tabini-aiji is coming.”

God. He wouldn’t. An absolute cold chill went through him. Tabini. Risk himself. Risk everything.

And if Tabini came charging in here with the Edi andMachigi andthe renegades going at each other and none of the latter respecting the aishidi’tat, he didn’t lay bets on which side would attack whom.

“Tano.” He made his way to the side of the truck so he could look up at both of them, the resources he had. “Tell Tabini-aiji the situation. Inform him. One doesn’t care who hears at this point. It is not the time for him to come in unaware.”

“Yes,” Tano said, and: “We have code we can use, nandi.”

God, God, God. He could hear the engine now. And the gunfire was still going on out there.

If Tabini came here to repudiate the deal with Machigi, everything could collapse. If Tabini came here thinking he was going to deal with the Edi, he needed to know where Machigi was. It was a damned mess, was what it was.

He needed to haul his own aishid out of this and let them explain. Right now it was just Tano.

He thought about hitting the truck horn; but they might think he was in jeopardy and risk themselves trying to get back.

But atevi hearing. They were going, any minute now, to hear the bus. Hecould. They were going to know. There was only one motor in all Sarini Province that sounded like that.

He stood beside the truck and listened to Tano say words that made no sense, and all the while the situation was getting closer on both sides, and gunfire and heavier rounds were going off, the latter shaking the earth. Inside the bus, it was so damned soundproofed it was unlikely anybody heard it; but he couldn’t judge. It was getting hot here, getting closer to their position, and from his vantage he didn’t know how many of the Edi had gotten back here and how many were lagging back firing at the renegades or at Machigi. The whistles had stopped. The gunfire was steady.

“Do the others know?”

Tano gave him a troubled look. And then said, “Yes, nandi. One has called them. They are coming back.”

Back. Where in hell were they? Doing what?

He heard the whistles again from off in the woods. And gunfire. Andthe bus. He limped back to the side of the truck, to the front fender, where he had something of a vantage.

More whistles, increasing in complexity. The forest across the road was alive with it. And of all people they could reach with communications, the Edi were not on the list.

Damn, he thought. And heard an alarming burst of gunfire, and saw movement in the trees.

He was not in a good position. A shot kicked up the sand out in the road, and then a volley answered it. He retreated to the side of the truck and saw Lucasi leaning on the roof of the cab, with a rifle, and Tano, one-handed, similarly bracing himself with his sidearm.

He took out his own gun. Thumbed the safety off. More than his aishid had heard the bus.

The opposition must be hearing it. So, depending on distance, might Machigi.

The bus had taken the turn. It was coming up the road now, raising a column of dust above the trees.

A column suddenly interrupted.

“Nandi,” Tano said. “Guild is deploying. They instruct us to hold position.”

Hold position. There was no damned way they could move, except to run the truck straight through the Edi.

Who likewise knew that motor. The bus refueled and garaged in Najida village. They’d think it came from Najida estate. They’d hear it as allies moving in. They’d expect Guild under Cenedi’s orders.

Close. Close enough to let them use common sense. He heard the engine rev up again. It was coming.

“Nandi,” Tano said again. “Banichi has warned Machigi.”

Tano’s partner and Banichi and Jago were out there using short-range to reach Machigi—

spotting for them, it might well be. Doing a little damage of their own if they got the chance.

It made sense. But he wanted them out of there. They were, like him, like Tano, running on empty. They didn’t have it in them to move as fast as they needed, think as sharply as they needed. He wanted them back, dammit, before something happenedc

The bus came around the bend of the snaking road, full tilt, and applied the brakes. He stood staring at it as it sat there, huge, red and black, and shiny under a coating of dust. He couldn’t see through the window tint. But they’d see him.

Then a voice like doom thundered out: “This is a Guild operation. Guild forces are dispersed in the area. All civilians, cease fire and fall back behind this point, for your own safety. This is a Guild operation under the auspices of Tabini-aiji, under the law of the aishidi’tat. Cease fire and fall back to this position.”

Nobody in the woods could fail to hear that. He hadn’t known the bus had a loudspeaker.

He’d bought it already made from Shejidan, he’d ordered it in by rail, he’d traveled on it. He knew it had tinted windows, a refrigerator, and every passenger comfort. But he hadn’t known the driver had a loudspeaker. That was a surprise.

The strength just started to go out of him. The Guild wanted the damned fight? The Guild could have it. Just—if Tabini was going to take action against Machigi, he had to protest it.

He’d agreed to represent Machigi. He had to go do it.

He headed for the bus as the doors opened. He heard a racket behind him—Tano, getting down from the truckbed, his ears told him; but his eyes were for the bus door and the uniformed Guildsmen coming out of it. Tabini’s personal guard, those men.

Tabini came next, in immaculate black brocade, black lace at the cuffs—that pale gold stare that could convince a man he was a damned fool to argue.

He gave his own back, not about to start with any apology for what he’d done. He stopped at the requisite distance and gave a short, correct bow. “Nand’ aiji. One is grateful. One is also obliged to request your forces use caution. Machigi-aiji has engaged the Guild’s enemies.