not bow to the Guild,” Trade said grimly.
“The Dowager does not
bow
to the Guild. But she has them at her right hand. Now so do two of her neighbors, to their benefit. Others are considering it. The Marid is ahead of the East, in that regard. And will profit from it. She envisions the Marid ashaving the same status as the East: signatory, but a separate district.”
Machigi had his chin on his fist. Extended two fingers, intent to speak. “This is new.”
“It is in line with the dowager’s proposal, nandi. I have no hesitation to say it. Her district has not entirely trusted the aishidi’tat as it was first constituted. But the independence of the East has kept the aishidi’tat honest. She sees in your regional strength reinforcement for the independence of the East. She has kept it from becoming an entirely Ragi institution. You are not Ragi. And if you both employ the Guilds and put your own young people into the Guilds, you gain a voice in the Guilds, forming policy and enforcing the law in the aishidi’tat.”
“Interesting,” Machigi said, and dropped the hand and leaned back.
Bren said, quietly, “I represent the dowager’s proposals, nandi. And I have never known her to go back on what she said she would do.”
“More than can be said of her husband when he ruled,” Machigi said in a low voice. “But then, there are rumors, are there not, regarding his demise?”
“One could not comment, nandi.”
“We shall sign her agreement,” Machigi said with a glance at the others. “We shall sign it in Shejidan. And you may now partake of the brandy you have been pretending to drink, paidhi. You have won our agreement. We shall see how it goes. Lighter topics, if you will. What about these porcelains?”
Bren risked an actual sip. Two and three. The rest of the session was brief, more about trade, and porcelains, and the Isles.
It was a vast relief when Machigi signaled the end of the session, and Trade and Gediri took their leave.
A guest of the house routinely left last; Machigi stepped between Bren and the doorway, not threateningly, but definitively.
“You will be at breakfast,” Machigi said.
“One would be honored, nandi,” Bren said.
And still Machigi did not clear his path.
“You are not pressed for time tomorrow, are you?”
A test? A challenge? Reminding him that he left the premises when Machigi was willing to let him leave?
“I shall be in no haste, nandi. I shall not call for a plane until I am on the road, and it will still make it to the airport before I do. I shall leave at your convenience.”
Machigi nodded. “Well enough,” Machigi said, and let him pass.
It was curious, Machigi’s last action…the insistence on making a personal impression, part threat, part—whatever it was. Banichi and Jago had not seemed alarmed. Tema and his partner had not been.
Bren thought about it on the way up to the suite, in company only with Banichi and Jago. He
liked
the man, that deadliest and most mistaken of human reactions toward atevi, who had their own attaching emotion, man’chi, quite as strong—strong as life and death—but
not
quite what humans called love or even liking, and it was a basic mistake ever to start using that word with atevi, in any degree. Machigi was potentially a scoundrel himself, aiming at whatever he could get in excess of the agreement, but who, in Machigi’s place, would not have to be, if only for the sake of those with man’chi to him? Machigi was as alone as an ateva ever tended to be, for one thing. Machigi’s relatives were mostly dead, his attachments all fallen to assassination, his immediate circle disrupted. His clan was around him, but members of his immediate family had been casualties of the feud with Dojisigi clan—a fact Machigi had been pragmatically ignoring in order to work with Dojisigi clan, to survive and keep Dojisigi from moving in and taking over Taisigi.
That indicated that Machigi knew how to make critical
“The Dowager does not
bow
to the Guild. But she has them at her right hand. Now so do two of her neighbors, to their benefit. Others are considering it. The Marid is ahead of the East, in that regard. And will profit from it. She envisions the Marid ashaving the same status as the East: signatory, but a separate district.”
Machigi had his chin on his fist. Extended two fingers, intent to speak. “This is new.”
“It is in line with the dowager’s proposal, nandi. I have no hesitation to say it. Her district has not entirely trusted the aishidi’tat as it was first constituted. But the independence of the East has kept the aishidi’tat honest. She sees in your regional strength reinforcement for the independence of the East. She has kept it from becoming an entirely Ragi institution. You are not Ragi. And if you both employ the Guilds and put your own young people into the Guilds, you gain a voice in the Guilds, forming policy and enforcing the law in the aishidi’tat.”
“Interesting,” Machigi said, and dropped the hand and leaned back.
Bren said, quietly, “I represent the dowager’s proposals, nandi. And I have never known her to go back on what she said she would do.”
“More than can be said of her husband when he ruled,” Machigi said in a low voice. “But then, there are rumors, are there not, regarding his demise?”
“One could not comment, nandi.”
“We shall sign her agreement,” Machigi said with a glance at the others. “We shall sign it in Shejidan. And you may now partake of the brandy you have been pretending to drink, paidhi. You have won our agreement. We shall see how it goes. Lighter topics, if you will. What about these porcelains?”
Bren risked an actual sip. Two and three. The rest of the session was brief, more about trade, and porcelains, and the Isles.
It was a vast relief when Machigi signaled the end of the session, and Trade and Gediri took their leave.
A guest of the house routinely left last; Machigi stepped between Bren and the doorway, not threateningly, but definitively.
“You will be at breakfast,” Machigi said.
“One would be honored, nandi,” Bren said.
And still Machigi did not clear his path.
“You are not pressed for time tomorrow, are you?”
A test? A challenge? Reminding him that he left the premises when Machigi was willing to let him leave?
“I shall be in no haste, nandi. I shall not call for a plane until I am on the road, and it will still make it to the airport before I do. I shall leave at your convenience.”
Machigi nodded. “Well enough,” Machigi said, and let him pass.
It was curious, Machigi’s last action…the insistence on making a personal impression, part threat, part—whatever it was. Banichi and Jago had not seemed alarmed. Tema and his partner had not been.
Bren thought about it on the way up to the suite, in company only with Banichi and Jago. He
liked
the man, that deadliest and most mistaken of human reactions toward atevi, who had their own attaching emotion, man’chi, quite as strong—strong as life and death—but
not
quite what humans called love or even liking, and it was a basic mistake ever to start using that word with atevi, in any degree. Machigi was potentially a scoundrel himself, aiming at whatever he could get in excess of the agreement, but who, in Machigi’s place, would not have to be, if only for the sake of those with man’chi to him? Machigi was as alone as an ateva ever tended to be, for one thing. Machigi’s relatives were mostly dead, his attachments all fallen to assassination, his immediate circle disrupted. His clan was around him, but members of his immediate family had been casualties of the feud with Dojisigi clan—a fact Machigi had been pragmatically ignoring in order to work with Dojisigi clan, to survive and keep Dojisigi from moving in and taking over Taisigi.
That indicated that Machigi knew how to make critical
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