Protector

Atevi were a presence onworld and off, had always been there, would always be there . . . and would always be different from them. Politically ambitious Mospheirans had little to gain these days by pointing out that obvious fact. Much more to the point, the meager trade that had gone back and forth between Mospheira and the continent for two hundred years had suddenly become a large and important commerce, linked to space in a triangular relationship. Businesswas now interestedin what happened on the continent—deeply interested.

But Mospheiran businessmen knew they had no control over it. They could only watch the ebb and flow of the market and adjust accordingly. Production once based on the direct advice of the paidhi must now flux according to a true supply and demand market.

The island government was also on its own these days. They no longer controlled the paidhi-aiji—who remained conspicuously human, in any gathering here on the continent, but who had all but ceased to represent Mospheiran interests. Translate at need, yes. Advise, yes. But circumstances . . . and ultimately his own inclinations . . . had made him an intrinsic part of the atevi world.

He’d gained property on the atevi side of the straits. A title. A seat in the legislature, too, if he wanted to press the point. He didn’t. He had more power, in terms of influence with the most powerful people in the atevi world, than that seat could ever wield . . . something he found it wisest not to advertise: those to whom it mattered—knew.

His officialniche in the court, a unique position, with Tabini’s—and Tabini’s grandmother’s—backing, was still that of paidhi-aiji, but in gatherings such as this, he preferred to style himself lord, not of the ill-defined Heavens, but of Najida peninsula, a quaint little rural section of Sarini Province, out on the western coast, not all that far from the island on which he’d been born. Lord of Najida gave him social cachet in terms ordinary atevi more easily understood, not too high nor ancient a title, but a respectable title over a little peninsula whose ruling family had died out, a title granted for services rendered the aiji, and to all of the aishidi’tat.

Accordingly, he chose to wear beige, a no-color, amid the colorful rivalry of atevi clan heraldry, and he persistently tied his queue notwith the starry black ribbon of the Province of the Heavens or even the more approachable blue of Najida, but with the paidhi’s neutral white . . . I am not part of regional matters. My standing is through the aiji.

It was a language every atevi understood without a moment’s conscious thought.

“Nandi,” his senior bodyguard said, by way of parting as they reached the door. The four tall atevi who were as close to him as family—closer, in point of fact—were not given a place in the gathering of lords and ladies milling about beyond the foyer, not this evening. The only bodyguards allowed in the gathering tonight (and indeed a veritable wall of black Assassins’ Guild uniforms guarded that door) were the aiji’s security. There was, for one thing, limited space—and for another—

For another, all security anywhere belonged to the Assassins’ Guild, and the fact that the only armed guards present were the aiji’s own bodyguard freed the restof the members of that secretive Guild to disappear the same way Bren’s did, down that inner corridor toward the deeper recesses of the aiji’s apartment—and into a meeting far more important and more critical than the state dinner going on in the front rooms.

It was a state dinner being held in honor of one Lord Geigi, Bren’s sometime neighbor on the coast and current house guest, here in the Bujavid. Bren entered the packed room alone: Geigi had been invited here early, and was doubtless still with the aiji, back in the private part of the apartment.

Lord Geigi, provincial lord of Sarini, having helped straighten out a significant mess in that province, was headed back to his preferred post in the heavens, that of stationmaster on the atevi side of operations. Sarini was quiet, even improved in security, and the prospect of peace and trade and profits sparkled in Geigi’s wake. It was a happy occasion, this departure, a triumph, and the lords and their consorts—and the paidhi-aiji—had assembled to wish Lord Geigi a good flight and a safe trip back to the station.