Resurgence Read online

  “Falling-out.” Ilisidi lifted a brow. “And a fear of his old allies. We are always interested in gossip.”

  “Bregani has a problem,” Machigi said. “He would very much like someone else—anyone else—in charge of the Dojisigi, which is only logical. But he made a rash move and now it is exposed. Bregani had had enough of Tiajo even before the coup attempt in Shejidan—there has been mistrust, how not? And Tiajo, since she became lord of Dojisigin, has been setting her own people in place in Senjin and extending finance to certain people in that district, corrupting and terrorizing. The housecleaning in the Assassins’ Guild in Shejidan has not put sensible fear in the girl. In fact, since that time, she seems to have acquired additional assets.”

  “Names,” Ilisidi said.

  “Pureni, Asama.”

  “Interesting,” Cenedi said, from behind the dowager. They were not names Bren knew, but he was willing to lay bets if Cenedi recognized them, Banichi did.

  “So,” Machigi said. “The child has a vicious temper. Bregani evidently concluded Tiajo had been weakened by the dissolution of the Shadow Guild—which indeed she is, considerably. But not weakened enough. His latest attempt on her life not only failed, but she reciprocated and nearly succeeded. She still has resources at her disposal, who will not always move at her command—but if they see profit in it, and if it is at least convenient, they will act. She delights in being feared, she reacts to provocations in extreme anger, and Bregani is now afoul of her concentrated temper. So: I have sent a message to Bregani. I have advised him that were I to build a railroad—which was always part of my planning in conjunction with my agreement with you, nand’ dowager—I have several choices for a route between Tanaja and the existing system. The shortest and most economical link would be his capital at Koperna, where the north-south rail comes down from the mountain pass and turns toward Najida. Alternatively, I could negotiate with Lord Haidiri of the Maschi to extend rail from Tanaja to Targai, thus crossing far more of our hunting lands than I would like, but it would have the advantage of avoiding Senjin’s volatility. And should Haidiri refuse, I still might have the option to join it to Najida, still disturbing our hunting range and duplicating a great deal of railway to no good advantage, and certainly none to Senjin, who would profit by the warehousing of goods and by other fees. The advantage of an agreement with me at this time must be clear, even to him.”

  “What is your point of contact with him?” Ilisidi asked bluntly. “Have you persons in his court?”

  “I have engaged the Farai to speak to him.”

  God, the Farai. A clan which had had far too many daughters, and had fingers in far too many districts and properties for anyone’s comfort. During Murini’s short term as aiji, the Farai of Morigi-dar had tried to claim both Najida and Bren’s Bujavid apartment, as former holders of both properties. They had stubbornly lodged in Bren’s apartment during the usurper’s administration, then tried to hold on to it on the grounds that they had risked their lives assisting Tabini’s return, a completely fictitious heroism, but it had still taken a great deal to pry them out. The fact that they were incurring Tabini’s displeasure had not daunted them: they had been willing to fight it in court, until it became clear the aiji-dowager was involved. Ilisidi had the reputation of involving the Guild.

  “Your mother was Farai,” Ilisidi observed.

  “She was,” Machigi said. “So is Bregani’s wife.”

  “Do you retain that much influence with that clan?”

  A dark amusement touched Machigi’s face. “Certainly more so than with Bregani. But that might change, given Bregani’s falling-out with Tiajo. He needs an ally. If the lord of Koperna wishes to be reasonable, it would be not only a shorter route for northbound goods, but a means to sever Senjin from the Dojisigin Marid, an additional situation of benefit.”

  “Possibly one of hazard.”

  “It does not daunt me.”

  “And a great provocation to the west coast.”

  “Only one thing stops Separti from building its own rail north.”

  Jorida, Machigi meant. The private island empire of Hurshina Shipping, the owner of which had fought tooth and nail against a rail extension south from Najida.

  God. One thing was not a minor opposition. Hurshina ruled Ashidama Bay and everything that moved down there. Not as a clan lord, but with an economic stranglehold. There were three sizeable cities down there, and Hurshina had agreements with all of them. No rail. No alternative to Hurshina’s shipping company . . . that lasted long.

  Ilisidi nodded slowly. “To build rail up even to Koperna would take steel currently assigned to your shipyard project.”

  “It would.”

  “And how long would it delay your shipbuilding, while we continue to build a port to receive such ships, and Lord Geigi in the heavens interrupts his vital work to consider weather prediction? Our building, nandi, is on schedule.”

  “Which is why I am here to discuss the matter, truly to discuss it as an immediate matter, nand’ dowager. I have survey work that will certainly do until we come into Koperna itself. You have a supply of steel. We might leave the shipbuilders at work and bargain for more steel.”

  The man certainly had nerve. That had never been in doubt.

  Ilisidi’s mouth actually smiled. The eyes did not, quite. “Lay out your expectations, nandi, do. You are here at some effort and you have some valid observations. We have leisure.”

  “First,” Machigi said, “the harbor facility would also contain the rail terminal and requisite machinery . . . cranes for the docks, and whatever else trains require. Means to turn the engines about. Means to service the equipment. Means to load and offload, and to move goods between ship and rail car. If, nand’ dowager, you would ship steel by rail, my ships could pick it up at Adaran, in Cobo.”

  “Conveying it right past Ashidama Bay.”

  “As we do with all our shipments, nand’ dowager. Unless we can arrange to pick it up at Koperna. If we gained Lord Bregani’s agreement, we could lay track from both ends.”

  “And how would this steel be bought?”

  No flinching. “With a peaceful resolution in the western Marid and complete isolation of the Dojisigi and their governing fool. Senjin may mistrust our motives, but because the Dojisigi certainly will oppose it, we stand a chance of dividing them, and linking Senjin’s financial interest to you, nand’ dowager, in a very direct way.”

  Dangerous, Bren thought. Dangerous and very clever. Dangerous ever to have dealt with this clever man. Dangerous to have so much of future policy dependent on him. And Machigi had only indirectly alluded to intelligence sources, and given only a cloudy excuse for the timing of his visit.

  The dowager likewise was dangerous, dangerous in her power, but with well-known frustration in her agenda for the southwest coast, a region which still sat ideologically apart from Najida and Kajiminda, two lordless townships under the iron political control of one wealthy—and ruthless—shipping company.

  One of the long-held political positions of the southwest coast, where Separti and Talida were located, was adamant opposition to a rail connection from there up to Najida. Why? The southern townships relied on ocean shipping up to Adaran in Cobo District, where the oldest part of the rail system went directly to Shejidan and points north. Adaran would not suffer in either event—increased rail traffic, or maintenance of the status quo of the seaport. Which family in Adaran stood to benefit, however, was another matter.

  “Adaran,” Bren said, “is about to become involved in the landing of goods and the transport of humans from the spaceport. This proposal would add another potentially troublesome element to that situation. Forgive me, aiji-ma, nandi, but it will raise questions. Najida is hardly more than a shed and a watering and sanding tower. Every time improvement to the Najida station comes into question, Separti flares up in opposition. I have paid for a ware
house out of my own pocket.”

  Machigi frowned at him. “Najida, one understands, is not that interested in expanding its rail station.”

  “It most definitely is not. The Edi value their isolation here. I am honor-bound to raise that objection. And Hurshina is no ally of the Edi. His household from the beginning has been their enemy.”

  “Removal of Najida from consideration in no wise troubles us.”

  “Were we to approve Targai as an alternate connection point,” Ilisidi said, “the Maschi will come into the controversy, and we have particularly promised Lord Geigi not to start a war with his neighbors.”

  “Then a link to Koperna,” Machigi said, “is the most sensible idea. And it should not trouble the Maschi or the Edi folk or that bastard on Jorida Isle. We will not send large cargoes northward in the next few years. But we will receive supplies from the north with far less trouble than shipping around the coast, and that, nand’ dowager, will hasten the ship-building and save both time and money.”

  “Granted I send you twice the steel,” Ilisidi said. “Virtually free.”

  “Granted that, yes, nand’ dowager.”

  “Also granted that Senjin will desert the Dojisigi and agree with you, nandi. It is an interesting idea.”

  So many incidents had begun with that word interesting. It did not mean the dowager would cooperate, or that she would not turn and do something obstructive. She was gathering information. She might be Eastern bred and born, but she had twice ruled the aishidi’tat, and twice been frustrated in bringing the entire southwest and its quarreling companies firmly in hand. Bringing the tribal peoples into the aishidi’tat, knitting up a weakness in the aishidi’tat as old as human presence in the world—that had been a major triumph.

  Separating Machigi and his association from the political stew that was the Marid, getting him to trade his ambitions to take the west coast for an agreement that gave him the prospect of a sea route to the East—that had been an even greater one.

  Now came Machigi with just a little delay in the trade agreement on which Ilisidi had committed so much prestige, asking just a little delay and a blind eye—oh, well, and double the steel—while Machigi made a move on the chessboard that not only involved the old, old issue of the west coast, but rattled the stack of china that was Senjin’s momentarily peaceful abstinence from political agitation.

  Yes, receiving shipments directly from the capital down this new rail connection could speed things—and bring direct access from the capital to the middle of the Marid for the first time in history. The mountains had insulated the north somewhat from the continual ferment in the south—but not entirely successfully. The Taisigin Marid had brewed trouble very well without a rail line for two hundred years.

  And at no point—absolutely at no point—had either Machigi or Ilisidi mentioned the small fact that one of Machigi’s spies active against Senjin had just declared himself a candidate for a lordship in the north? A spy who just happened to be a cousin to Tabini-aiji’s wife and the mother of the heir?

  Was that nowhere in Machigi’s sudden rush to discuss a potential earthquake in his agreement with Ilisidi?

  Did he imagine she had no idea?

  Or did he want this begun before she did know?

  God, Bren thought. Will she?

  Ilisidi cocked her head and smiled that dreadful smile of hers, the one that went with the wrong sort of tea. “Convince us an approach to Senjin is a good idea,” she said.

  Machigi’s expression was no less worrisome. “Nand’ dowager,” he began.

  “We are willing to hear details,” Ilisidi interrupted him, two words in. “But should we back this move, we have expectations of achieving a more structured relationship between the Taisigin Marid and the capital.”

  There was a moment of silence.

  “Such a relationship at this moment,” Machigi countered, “would not aid my calling on Senjin to break with the Dojisigi.”

  “Would allowing Senjin to associate closely with you, nandi, truly encourage a future tightening of our own association? Or the contrary?”

  Again the moment of consideration. “I rule as aiji in the south, but it is a small aijinate, respectful of the north and of the East. I do not encourage the lords of the south to make independent associations with you, nand’ dowager, because the more and less of your favor, ample as it is, might create competition and intrigue among them, to which they are, by nature, all too apt. I by no means question your ability to hold them, but doubt your interest in doing so, while I have the utmost reason to give their politics my full attention. I take the same view regarding the northern Marid. I am the best guarantee of peace. I can deal with Senjin, I firmly believe, and I shall cede to you, as I have done, influence over the western coast, utterly relinquishing my ambitions in that sphere, though I shall undertake to assist if called upon.”

  Ilisidi’s smile persisted. “Indeed.”

  Machigi, no fool, smiled back gently. “One would never doubt your ability, should you have to. But why would you? I have the better part of the Marid in hand. I offer not fragments, but an association, a survey map which has not, for the most part, changed, and time is critical. Will the Marid as a whole form a tighter association with the aishidi’tat? Only after we have become one voice. Right now, our interests are diverse even from each other—and you, being what you are, considering what the East is, I think you understand that.”

  God, that was blunt. True, however: Ilisidi’s region was indeed its own challenge; and if anyone understood the pressures on Machigi—she had beaten her opposition. She had seized control over a fractious East, made a compact with the aishidi’tat and secured that, and her compact with Machigi, the sea trade, the port she was building—those were her lock on the East.

  But she served back equal bluntness. “Know that, should you betray my interests, nandi, I shall not be approachable for amendment.”

  “I have staked my life and the welfare of the Southern Association on what some call impossible, nand’ dowager. I have confidence in the paidhi. I have confidence that his representations of your position are true. I have confidence in you, that you can understand my situation. Your thinking does not go down habitual northern paths—nor do you mistake compliance for sincerity. Do I hold ambitions that would challenge Shejidan? Absolutely none, and you know it. I have enough to do in the south. Do I hold myself and my association of value to Shejidan? I do. We will never bow to Shejidan because it is Shejidan. We will work with Shejidan because we see it brings benefit to the people in the northern regions, and governs where it governs with a fair and even hand. Being what we are, we know how difficult a balance this is. I ask, nand’ dowager, that you give me latitude—and supply—to unite the Marid. We have come on a moment and a situation in which something can be done to the advantage of all of us except the Dojisigi, and after the numerous attempts the Dojisigin have made to remove me, I am glad to return the attention. With Senjin in hand, with prosperity flowing to all the Marid but the Dojisigin—the Dojisigi may solve their own problem.”

  Ilisidi listened gravely, frowning. Then the ghost of a wicked amusement quirked one brow.

  “So,” she said. “We shall see how that falls. We should be sorry should you suffer a reverse, nandi, or fail in your representations to us. Losing you would inconvenience us. Is it necessary that you build a railroad immediately, or will various rumors, and a site declared in Tanaja, suffice to stir things up for now?”

  Machigi broke into a brief and real smile. “True, nand’ dowager. A shipment of steel would aid the illusion. More to follow would aid the reality, because what I promise, I am ultimately constrained to deliver.”

  “More may be arranged—should Senjin be as fluid as you think. Gain them, and that rail link may happen very quickly, nandi. Create problems, and you may find it takes forever.”

  “We hear that there
will be landings in the north. And humans arriving at the spaceport. We remind the aijinate that we also have a broad hunting range—and an expanse of calm sea, where petal sails would trouble no one—should politics in the north prove a problem.”

  “A generous offer. However—we believe we have that matter solved.”

  “This new lord of Ajuri.”

  “Rumor does fly fast.”

  “Indeed,” Machigi said. “Will Kadagidi be next to have a new lord?”

  “You are remarkably current—except in your connection of Kadagidi’s vacancy with this one. That may wait a while. Are there other matters to discuss?” A pause. “No? Then brandy.”

  The servant made the rounds. The dowager signaled a more generous serving, a risk, Bren thought. The meeting had not been contentious, for which one could be extremely grateful, but oh, God, the omissions in it. Bren kept his own consumption on a slower schedule than Machigi’s.

  “Will you stay the night, nand’ Machigi?” Bren asked. “You would be sincerely welcome.”

  “Thank you, nandi, for the gracious offer—but I am reportedly on a hunting trip in my own range. So I had best get back to it tonight, and sleep at the camp to make it true—before I gently let slip to my intimate advisors the news that we may all have met, and that there may be a change of program, by your good grace, nand’ dowager.” Machigi took a generous sip, a trusting sip, counting it was an unknown servant in charge of the brandy.

  “Surely you will take a bottle or two with you,” Bren said, “for the comfort of your staff, once you reach your camp.”

  “That, gratefully, yes. As my guard will have offloaded a supply of net and cordage in your driveway—to better relations with Najida. I trust you to distribute it, nand’ paidhi, by your sense of fairness, to the good of the district.”

  “That I will do, indeed, with thanks, and I shall name you as the donor.” That was a fine gesture. There had been conflict between the Edi and the Marid—though mostly Edi wreckers had preyed on west coast shipping, no concern at all to Machigi. Putting nets and cordage into the hands of the netmakers would not hurt their business, and, in the Edi way of sharing, they would see that the most deserving cases were helped first.