Deceiver: Foreigner #11 by C. J. Cherryh Read Free Book Online

nova, Murini would have had his most important ally, the Marid, distracted with that old quarrel—and having the Marid’s main force pinned down in a guerilla war would have weakened Murini’s hold on the capital, and thus on the aijinate. It had been rumored, at the time, that Tabini was dead. It had been rumored, at the time, that Tabini’s heir was lost somewhere in the heavens along with the aiji-dowager and the paidhi-aiji and never would come back—but there would have been claimants soon enough, if Murini had at any point looked distracted.
    Timing, timing, timing. Contrary to Murini’s expectations, the dowager had returned from space, Tabini had launched his counterattack on Murini, and Murini had gone down to defeat . . . before the Marid had wormed their way into their hearts’ desire . . . namely the west coast.
    So—with Murini gone—the Marid had just kept working toward their goal while trying to stall Tabini with promised new agreements. The marriage offer to Baiji predated Tabini’s return to power: so the Marid had been quietly pursuing their objective regardless of who sat in power in Shejidan. Murini might not have known what they were up to, offering Geigi’s foolish nephew a Marid wife, or had turned a blind eye to it because he did not want a public break with his allies.
    But certainly the Edi had understood what was going on. The Edi servants in Baiji’s house had found a stream of Marid agents visiting the estate—agents who had set up shop in the township that neighbored the estate. Agents who had evaporated following the failed attempt on the paidhi-aiji’s life—and now were rumored to have set up again.
    Tabini’s men were, one hoped, discreetly ferreting out that little nest, which had fled from Kajiminda estate down to Separti Township.
    Possibly the Edi people were helping the aiji’s men find those cells—though one doubted it: the Edi historically had blamed the Ragi for the treaty that had lost them their homeland, over on Mospheira, and they had only marginally attached to the aishidi’tat. The old, old resentment had never died, and they particularly did not cooperate with the Assassins’ Guild.
    Which made it all the more remarkable that the Edi people had approached both the paidhi and Tabini’s grandmother—herself an Easterner, from another region dragged somewhat unwillingly into the continentspanning modern state.
    So Tabini had just paid a personal visit? The Edi would have known it even while it was in progress. The paidhi had absolutely no doubt of that—since there were Edi servants under this roof. They would know, they would be concerned, and they would certainly have an opinion, based on whatever those servants reported, which might well be the whole content of the conversation with Ilisidi—the conversation had hardly been quiet.
    Considering the fragility of lines of communication just ever so tentatively reopened, it did seem a good idea to be sure the Edi did not feel the paidhi had been communicating their closer-held secrets to the aiji . . . in a conversation which had been much lower key.
    So the paidhi went out into the hall and located, with no trouble at all, his majordomo, Ramaso, who was his most reliable link to the Edi. Ramaso was standing between the servants’ wing and the dining hall, a high traffic area in the house, and a very convenient place to watch who came and went in the main hall: its view included the master suite, the library, the office, the dining hall, and the doors to all the guest suites and formal bath.
    Not an accident, that position: Ramaso kept himself informed on all sorts of matters: it was his job to do that. And Ramaso very politely bowed when accosted. His dark face was absolutely innocent of motive, which was to say, expressionless, in the best formal fashion.
    “Rama-ji,” Bren said. “This has been an interesting morning.”
    “Indeed, nandi.”
    “The aiji asked no questions into Edi business. His