Protector

Cajeiri was where he should be. His young aishid had performed as they should, right down the classic list: first, security, then their lord’s duty and dignity. They had gotten word, informed their lord, and gotten him upstairs to collect himself in private and to be where they could find him.

It was not a case of a grieving grandson. Cajeiri himself had no reason at all to mourn Lord Komaji—but he was going to be upset with news bound to affect his mother, his father, and everybody connected to him. Everything had gone uncertain, until there was more information, and until someone in authority exerted that authority.

He was having a similar reaction. The world could spare a man dedicated to causing trouble—but Komaji had connections, and his death reconfigured Ajuri, and thatmeant reconfiguring the entire Northern Association.

Ilisidihadn’t ordered it. Nor Tatiseigi, if he was any judge: he doubted Tatiseigi had ever assassinated anybody. He’d swear those two had both been surprised by the news, and were headed now into conference, apparently a major reevaluation of their situation.

“Recommendations, nadiin-ji?” he asked his aishid. Ilisidi and Tatiseigi had not stopped at the security station. Neither did they.

“None at the moment,” Banichi said, and they exited into the foyer of the house, and headed up the central stairs.

There were too many unknowns. That was the problem. They’d configured their security with an eye to Komaji as the likeliest problem, but one that held other, more threatening elements in tension.

Removing Komaji might improve some situations, but they might be hours away from seeing a stronger—or weaker—leader step in to replace him. Either would have repercussions. And one had no idea right now who that might be.

Damiri?

If she decided to go there, it would be effectively an act of divorcement. And it would be damned foolish, given the life expectancy of Ajuri lords over the last fifty years.

They reached the top of the stairs, where two of the dowager’s young men and the junior two of Tatiseigi’s stood watch outside the sitting room. They opened for him and he walked in with Banichi and Jago, Tano and Algini having elected to stay outside and talk to the other bodyguards.

There was a chair ready for him, point of a triangle with Ilisidi and Tatiseigi. He sank onto it. There was no preamble, no formality of a tea service. It had gone straight into a business discussion.

“My great-grandson has been informed,” Ilisidi said. “I shall call him into private conference and we shall talk. Lest you ask, we had nothing to do with this, paidhi. Nor did our host. About my grandson, or any other, we have no information.”

“We do not believe it is in any sense your grandson’s action, aiji-ma,” Cenedi said. “We are less sure about Damiri-daja, but we do not think it likely. We believe it iswithin Ajuri clan. That it should have happened, we find somewhatsurprising, aiji-ma, but not greatly so—if it resulted from Komaji’s actions in the capital. Many in the clan have not been satisfied with Lord Komaji’s leadership. His foray southward could have lost him man’chi. In that case, a new leadership will have to establish its policies and choose its enemies. We do not even know that it was a Guild assassination, or if so, if there was a Filing.”

“This is an uncommon lack of information,” Tatiseigi said, and Bren took in a slow breath and kept his mouth shut on the things he knew, which, at least to his knowledge, Tatiseigi did notknow—close links between the Kadagidi and Ajuri. The significance of Haikuti being assigned to the Kadagidi.

That hypothetical administrator sitting inside the Guild, arranging his chess pieces about the board . . . would notwant Damirisitting in Komaji’s place, asking questions about Ajuri’s actions and Ajuri’s shaky finances . . . and least of all would he want her asking into Ajuri’s staffing.

“The outlook for our situation here, Nedi-ji?”