Tracker (11 page)

There was Tillington, there was Louis Baynes Braddock, and there were all the old quarrels that lay in human politics.

But those were the very matters the Guild needed to understand. The way humans dealt with their own and solved problems—they had to learn that, too, among very important considerations. High-level Guild were not fools.

And there was no better person on the atevi side to explain a situation to the Guild than Lord Geigi, who understood, for one principal difference, that human leaders were far more replaceable than atevi aijiin—and that a problematic opinion therefore tended to be an ephemeral condition that could change with a new appointment—short of the need for an assassination. And he hoped to illustrate that fact very quickly regarding the current human stationmaster.

“One does not foresee Lord Geigi objecting to that proposition, aiji-ma, though one is certain he will have some adjustments and observations.”

“To say the least. And this human stationmaster. Tillington.”

She knew the name. God, that was disturbing.

“Tillington,” he said carefully. “Yes, aiji-ma.”

“One hears he is inconvenient.”

“Exceedingly. But a word from the Presidenta can remove him. He is an appointed official, not elected.”

“Well, well,” Ilisidi said, bypassing the entire situation with a wave of her hand, “one understands you will have various matters to deal with up there. The man seems singularly useless. I leave him to you.”

God,
did
she know? He still couldn't tell. If she did know—she'd just posed a question. And he had to answer it.

“I shall deal with the matter of Tillington in the next few days, aiji-ma. I think he has become quite inconvenient. I shall begin, as I now intend, by asking the Presidenta to call him home for consultation, which may settle the entire problem with minimal fuss—at least as soon as we can secure a shuttle berth. When I do go up to the station, perhaps the Assassins should indeed send their mission with me and stay in close contact as I work—granted only they will agree to work with me and bring me their questions. Certainly they should develop a close association with Lord Geigi, and respect his good advice.”

“It might indeed be wise,” Ilisidi said, “to have the Guild receive an accurate interpretation regarding the human administration. And one wishes to be sure this new leadership in the Guild develops the proper sources of information regarding affairs in Geigi's lordship, as well. The Guild may seek information by clandestine means as a check, but they need guidance. Ah, well, well, one trusts you will find a satisfactory conclusion to all this business.” Ilisidi waved the servants away. “We are relieved, paidhi. We shall see our great-grandson settled in peace and quiet in his household. Then we shall fly back to Malguri to enjoy the rest of the summer and threaten a few fools. Lord Tatiseigi may even join us there for a few days. We have absolutely no doubt Lord Topari will keep you entertained in our absence.”

That was a joke. He was expected to take it as such. To hand it back.

“I shall conclude an agreement as quickly as I can, aiji-ma, and one trusts an escape to the space station will be far enough once I am done.”

Ilisidi laughed quietly. She had said what she wanted to say, and the paidhi-aiji had received his priorities, one of them handling a
very
scary situation, where it regarded the Guild's arrival on the station. And another—on which he
still
had no idea what she knew.

In his immediate path, then, he had the groundbound problems, which the travel schedule made a priority. He might serve the aiji, but the aiji-dowager borrowed his services as often as she pleased. The railroad matter was the most urgent, in terms of the dowager's objectives. He was not
exactly
working on Tabini-aiji's orders in devoting so much time to the dowager's affairs. But between the railroad and Ilisidi's eastern port, they were about to conclude a peace that had eluded the mainland for two hundred years, a state of affairs
definitely
in Tabini's interests.

Tabini clearly thought that move convenient, too, or he would have put roadblocks in its path, including finding occasion to
send
the paidhi-aiji somewhere remote, and out of the aiji-dowager's reach.

The space station was about as remote as one could get. And he would have to work both situations up there with what diplomacy he could manage: human politics and the Assassins' Guild were
both
headed for Geigi's doorstep.

Maybe if Tillington were compelled to explain the human problems to the Guild it would make Tillington think twice about what he was stirring up.

If only that were likely.

He had a delicate letter to write to Mospheira, and best he get that entire business underway at the soonest. Along with that, he needed to phone Shawn and ask for a courier to be flown in on the next commercial flight. He wasn't willing to trust the Messengers' Guild with such a communication, even in Mosphei': they were the
other
problem among the guilds, one that no side ever trusted that far.

So he had to ask Mospheira for a courier to come pick up the letter, since despite all the improvements in relations, it still wasn't politic to send a unit of the Assassins' Guild to call on the Mospheiran President.

 • • • 

Dear Mr. President:

He didn't use
Dear Shawn
on official correspondence. And this was, above all else, official, designed to be quotable—useable as far as Shawn wanted to take it.

I hope my writing finds you well. I can assure you that the situation is vastly improved on the mainland. Tabini-aiji has very recently revised the leadership of the Assassins' Guild. This has corrected a long-standing problem.

He has invested Cajeiri as his official heir, which as you know must be approved by the legislature, but there will be no problem with that when the day comes, and there is general happiness to have that matter settled.

The young gentleman, on the occasion of his birthday, received a visit from three of the Reunioner children he met aboard the ship, as you are surely aware. A relationship has formed which may mature well.

The children also fared very well medically in their visit. There were no complaints of illness in the adjustment, and this is a situation that has acquired immense political implications, as you may imagine, considering the situation aboard the space station.

The presence of the Reunioners aboard the station, as you may have heard, is stressing station capacity. They are, I am informed, closely confined, have less than comfortable living arrangements, very few gain passes for special purposes, and fewer still have jobs. Mospheiran officials are reluctant to fill posts with Reunioner applicants.

This unhappy situation cannot continue indefinitely. I had a chance to speak frankly and at length with Captain Jason Graham, who accompanied the children in their visit, and I am now convinced that finding a solution for the Reunioner problem is beyond urgent.

Coupled with that, I received troubling news yesterday from Captain Graham regarding statements made by Stationmaster Tillington, who, as I am sure you know, favors the removal of the Reunioners to a new station at Maudit.

He has vehemently opposed the children's visit here as signaling a change in policy regarding the Reunioners.

As a statement of opinion and policy, this might have been tolerable, but it has now been joined to the explicit charge, as reported to me by Captain Graham, that Sabin engineered the original meeting of the aiji's son with these children aboard the ship, and that Sabin is pursuing a private agenda with the deposed Reunioner Stationmaster, Louis Baynes Braddock.

There is, first, no truth in this. I witnessed what happened on the voyage between the aiji's son and the Reunioner children. I also was in a position to observe the state of affairs aboard the ship and can attest there was no love lost between Sabin and Braddock.

Stationmaster Tillington's statement is a reckless attack on the integrity of two of the four captains, Graham and Sabin; it also touches me and my office, but far more seriously, it touches on the honor of the aiji-dowager, who was supervising the aiji's son. The repercussions of that must be dire, if this is ever known.

The implication of the statement translated into an atevi context is extremely serious and damaging—and while Tillington himself may not have understood how it would translate to atevi, it exists: he has said it. And while it has not been publicized as yet, I am extremely worried that the statement will find a way to the atevi side of the station before some action can be taken on the human side absolutely to disown it.

I have not relayed the statement in question to the aiji-dowager or to the aiji and I hope it will not be repeated on the station. I hope to settle this quietly and quickly and head off any consequences, but I have some reason to fear the dowager may privately be aware of it. If this is the case, her patience is extremely limited—and must be. Should such charges reach other ears—a situation very likely, given that Stationmaster Geigi understands more Mosphei' than he speaks; and so do some of his staff—there must be severe repercussions, including the bringing of capital charges against Tillington. The dignity and integrity of the aijinate is at issue.

I have no choice now but to urge that Stationmaster Tillington be relieved of duty and replaced with all possible speed and that his successor be strongly cautioned against any statement which, whether intentionally or otherwise, could be interpreted to question the integrity of the aijinate or the ship's officers.

Should the current statement become public with Tillington still in office, the aijinate would be forced to demand the delivery of Tillington and his aides to the mainland, with no likelihood of their return. The damage to relations and agreements between Mospheira and the aishidi'tat at that point would be extreme.

There can be no remedy by apology. The atevi administration cannot excuse such a reckless charge.

As a second point, in the official view of the aishidi'tat, the disposition of the Reunioners is not solely a station issue, but an international issue, to be settled at Presidential level and at the level of the aijinate, in consultation with the Ship, and in no way at the level of the Stationmaster.

We now know, as a result of the recent visit, and thanks to a medication easily available to the ship-folk, that this spaceborn population can adjust to life on the planet. This adds a new choice. In my own view, the best solution for the Reunioners is movement toward permanent residency on Mospheira. These are skilled workers whose technical expertise can easily be applied on the planet. The Mospheirans on the station may be joined one at a time by Reunioners who have cleared the same screening they passed, but for the majority, including families with children, the planet offers the best answer.

I hope in all good will for your quick assistance in these matters. I cannot stress enough the urgency involved.

Damn, he didn't want to send that letter cold. He wanted it to sit for at least four hours for several reviews of the wording.

Shawn Tyers, multiple times President, past head of the Department of State, and, in the early years, his direct boss—had been his friend and sometime sounding board in years since.

But for various reasons—his own mother's death, Toby's role as go-between during the years he'd been gone—he hadn't talked with Shawn all that often since he'd landed amid the troubles of the aishidi'tat.
So glad you're safe. Very glad to hear from you.

He hadn't communicated officially with the Mospheiran government even to ascertain whether he currently held any official position within it. No one had ever withdrawn his appointment, true. But no one but Shawn in this entire last year had so much as asked him a direct question—and he had never asked in what
capacity
Shawn had asked him.

So now, out of the blue, he asked Shawn to use Presidential power to fire a very high level appointee, one who probably had political clout that could come back to haunt Shawn's party.

Then he had to urge Shawn to take in the Reunioners, against strong objection likely from various interests inside Mospheira—and that led to the knotty question of where Reunioners might be settled with least problem. He wished he'd kept the contact with Shawn a little more current—though he didn't know when in the last frantic year he'd have found the time.

Well, a personal phone call to precede that unpleasant letter was at least a start on patching the relationship and figuring out what his position officially was, these days.

He called for the phone, and for a line to the Presidential residency across the channel.

Narani brought the phone—and at least a connection to the residency. Beyond that point, it became a problem in Mosphei', and Narani never attempted to translate.

“This is a member of the Presidenta's staff, nandi,” Narani said. “At least one surmises him to be such.”

It was, as turned out, indeed, the President's staff—but a secretary to the head of staff.

“This is Bren Cameron,” he said, “in Shejidan. I need to talk to the President. Personally.”

That took a bit. Three separate senior secretaries were sure they needed to talk to him instead.

“This is classified and this is urgent,” he said. “Advise the President.”

He definitely needed to have called Shawn before now. He didn't know any of these people.

The President was at breakfast. Fine. The President could take five of his minutes away from the table and get on the phone. Urgently.

The President had been told he was calling. The President was coming to his office. Please wait.