Betrayer: Foreigner #12 by C. J. Cherryh Read Free Book Online Page A

these new ports may be, the question facing us is the intention of the aishidi’tat to dictate to the Marid.”
    “Indeed,” Bren said. “Through association with the aiji-dowager, your relations with the aiji in Shejidan could greatly improve. You would have an advocate.”
    “Tabini-aiji is Ragi born and bred, greedy, and bent on taking the south. She is his grandmother.”
    The old feud, the Ragi with the South, the old resentment. The whole argument could shipwreck on that rock.
    “Traditions are both a brake and a compass; but the engine—the engine of the aishidi’tat, nandi, is a leader who can effect change and who will listen if you have proposals, particularly if you have the aiji-dowager’s support going in. Traditionalists in the north will always temper Tabini-aiji’s desire for change—but if any association is going to survive into a changing future, the leader of that association has to have the freedom to move. The dowager is such a leader. You are such a leader. You, nandi, can step straight into a very profitable association without the untidy process of a war. And she, through her personal connections, can entirely alter your relationship with the north in a favorable direction. That is the dowager’s proposal. Look to the East. There is where you can change everything.”
    Machigi tilted his head, considering that statement, and it might have pleased him, or amused him. He had that slight expression—which slowly evolved into a brief smile.
    “You are good, paidhi.”
    “One hopes to be helpful to both sides, nandi. The aishidi’tat and the Marid have spent too much of their wealth and invention on wars.”
    Machigi swept a sober look about at his ministers. “We have things to consider, do we not, nandiin-ji?”
    There was not a word from the ministers, no lively give and take. No acceptance. But no rejection.
    Was there ordinarily that sort of session with this man? Bren asked himself. Was it the presence of an enemy that restrained them—or was it the habit of restraint with a touchy young autocrat?
    He gathered no clue from them at all. Machigi gave a flick of his hand on the chair arm, and the ministers all rose and bowed and left, collecting the majority of the guards as they went.
    Bren didn’t stare after them. He watched Machigi, and Machigi watched him, while their two sets of bodyguards stood watching over both of them.
    “Well,” Machigi said, “well, shall we take a walk together, nand’ paidhi?”
    Machigi got up. Bren did. And Machigi led the way to the large doors at the far end of the room. Machigi’s guards moved to open them. Banichi and Jago shifted to stay close to Bren, and out of the line of Machigi’s guards.
    The doors let in a widening seam of light, and the room beyond proved to be a hall of windows with a view of the harbor—a pleasant room, with small, green leather chairs, with large and ancient maps on the other three walls. Fishing boats were evident in that panoramic view. So was a larger freighter, moving slowly beyond the smaller boats, and the horizon beyond the city wharves was all water.
    “A magnificent view, nandi,” Bren said.
    “This is the heart of the Marid,” Machigi said. “This is our sea. This, with our ships, is our power. Of the five clans of the Marid, only the Taisigi and the Senji have any extensively useful land inward. But you know this, being what you are.”
    “You have grain fields, nandi, and the Senji have their hunting range and their orchards.”
    “Well-learned, are you?” Machigi turned from the windows and faced him with a curious tilt to his head. “Hearing that Ragi accent come from your mouth continually amazes me. You have the size and the voice of a young child—one hardly means to offend you, nand’ paidhi, but I have constantly to assure my eyes that you are the one speaking.”
    One might justifiably be offended, but it was rarely the paidhi’s prerogative to be offended. Bren simply bowed in