The plain stretched on as it had before, but he could hardly look at it the same way. It took a while for the realization to fully sink in, and he was sure, in that span of a few moments, the entire scope of consequences had not even begun to occur to his consciousness. For over two hundred years the Treaty of Mosphei had created and maintained a steady peace between the two species via a long list of agreements and compromises. But certainly at the very top of the list was the condition that humans stay on Mospheira, on the island, out of the atevi's way.
And now Tabini, with no human mediator present to talk sense into a foolish idea, had gone and thrown the Treaty right out the window and allowed humans to colonize the mainland. Where, even considering the completely out of the way location, atevi were bound to be , could not help but be, effected.
"Why?" was the immediate question. Followed by the belated courtesy: "aiji-ma."
"Some rubbish about over-population," Ilisidi answered with a dismissive wave.
Well, that made sense, to the point that over-population had been a concern when he left. But it had raised questions of child limitations. As far as he knew there had never even been a whisper of moving to the mainland. And so what? --Out of the blue, Tabini decides to offer humans a place on continent, and the President on Mospheira simply accepts? --He found that highly unlikely, considering the President couldn't decide to go to the bathroom without hours of committee deliberation. A decision to send humans to the mainland, to break the Treaty, should take years, if not decades, of argument in the committees. So how, in under two years, did this happen?
Then, of course, one had to accept that somehow it had happened, and move on to much more troubling thoughts. Like did these pioneering humans know anything at all about atevi? Did they know the language, the customs? Considering that to get the job he had now, he had not only had to complete a graduate program, but come out number one in his class, he not only knew these humans did not have the grasp that he had, but sincerely doubted that they had had more than a year of schooling, if that. Which he knew was nowhere near the amount needed to get remotely close to comprehension. Nevermind fluency.
God. No wonder Tabini wanted him up here at earliest possible moment. The man had probably gotten himself in way over his head. Some ignorant human had probably said the most wrong thing possible to some lord, and the offended lord had filed Intent and now Tabini sent him up here to dissuade said lord and prevent a second war between the two species.
And Tabini had sent him into the situation with not a word of warning, certainly no briefing.
It was, at the moment, very, very hard not to hate the man, and damn him in front of his grandmother. Who might have found it amusing, or might have had him shot. Either way, you didn't go around damning the aiji when you were trying to be diplomatic.
"How far is this colony, aiji-ma?" he dared to ask.
The dowager waved a hand. "We go to see the mechieti first. Let the humans wait."
He sat back, trying to relax, and resisted the urge to turn around and look at his security detail, Banichi and Jago. Resisted the urge to ask them if they had known. Because of course they had known, and, barring the fact that their job was to protect him at all costs, they followed the aiji's orders ultimately, which had, apparently, been that they keep quiet about the matter. Tabini-aiji's very odd, very unsettling, gift to him as he returned home.
In the next moment, he realized that the road had smoothed out a bit. It was still unpaved, but obviously more traveled. A look out the window told him they were definitely entering a more lived-in area. There was a wide trail beside the road, something certainly traveled by mechieti, probably made by the pounding of hundreds of mechieti feet over time.
And they weren't going immediately to the human colony, apparently, which suggested to him that perhaps the situation was not as dire as he had first imagined. Or else that the dowager did not particularly care if some ignorant, mis-stepping human got shot for his mistakes. In which case, perhaps it would be wise for him to say something. Except that one didn't make suggestions to the aiji-dowager, especially if one wasn't entirely informed. And he was nowhere close to that.
Outside, he began to see buildings passing. Wood structures, mostly low to the ground, with tiled roofs. They had obviously born the brunt of the harsh northern weather for quite some time, and had come out the better for it, stronger. At first there was only one or two, but then they started appearing in clusters of three or more, until suddenly they were driving in the middle of a small town, passing atevi bundled in thick clothing against the cold.
Their caravan stopped before the largest of the town's buildings, a two-story affair made of stucco and wood, with deep red tiles on the roof. Even before they had completely stopped, the front door of the place—a set of doors, in fact, with etched, colored glass in each one—opened and an ateva man, perhaps in late middle-age, appeared, dressed in country finest and followed by a small group of mostly women, everyone dressed in their finest to greet the aiji's grandmother and the paidhi-aiji.
On their side, security got out first. He caught sight of one of their vehicles parked to the side of the building, and knew that more security—with all the requisite electronics and equipment—had probably arrived early that morning, if not the night before, in order to satisfactorily rig the place. There'd be wires on every door and window by now, every possibly dangerous place marked out and taken care of, emergency contingencies, exits, escapes, worked out to a tee. And it was all a routine he was quite familiar with.
When security seemed satisfied that no one was going to shoot, the doors were opened for him and the dowager, and they exited. Into freezing air that was blessedly still, the added chill of a wind having most certainly freezing consequences for a thin-skinned human. He silently thanked Bindanda and Narani for correctly guessing the weather and dressing him accordingly.
"Aiji-dowager," the man greeted, bowing low. "Paidhi-aiji." Another bow. "We are most honored to have you with us."
Ilisidi watched the man bow, her hands folded atop her cane, and gave a nod. "Enada-ji."
"Your hospitality is most welcomed, nadi," Bren added, with a slight bow.
Enada motioned them with a wave toward the house. "Let us out of this cold, nadiin. Perhaps you would like to see your rooms?"
"Indeed," Ilisidi answered, and followed Enada into the house. Bren followed, security folding in behind them.
The building turned out to be most like a hunting lodge, the interior rather dark and smelling of roast meat. Trophy animals were mounted on the walls, some creatures Bren was surprised he did not recognize. They were shown through a series of rooms, a sitting room with a thick animal hide on the floor and atevi-scale lounges, a dining room, then up a narrow staircase to a single hallway. The bedrooms turned out to be, to Bren's mild surprise, not a single room, but each a suite, with its own small sitting room, bedroom, and bathroom. The furnishings were equally impressive.
When the tour was complete—security and staff's rooms having been omitted—Enada led them back downstairs, and suddenly seemed, in the face of such a formidable person as Ilisidi, to be uncertain about what to do next. Ilisidi immediately made a suggestion, but one could be sure one not made out of sympathy for the man's conundrum, but out of her own desires.
"Refreshments, nadi. It has been a long trip."
Enada bowed, and seemed relieved. "Certainly, aiji-dowager." And disappeared.
Ilisidi took a seat, and motioned that Bren should sit, too. And waited until Enada himself, along with half a dozen staff members brought out dishes, a collection of dishes large enough that it wasn't exactly the quick refreshment he had expected, but an entire meal. There were a few roasted foul, with a gamey, country taste, a stalky vegetable with a cream nut sauce, another type of meat, game of some sort, and a collection of pastries and colored noodles with a thick, fatty gravy. Everything had the appearance—and taste—of food found just outside the door, the game recently killed, the greenery recently picked. Although, where vegetables would have been found growing in the frozen ground, he wasn't sure.
They ate, at the main course complimenting the cook, and finished with finely iced pastries and a dessert liquor he had never tasted before, but was assured was safe for humans. All in all, it was a pleasant meal, even if he would have preferred to have been out walking after the long drive over rough ground, stretching his legs and easing the soreness out of his backside. But pleasant, and if it was a harbinger of future meals, than he thought he would have little complaint while they stayed here.
The dinner wound down, and Ilisidi stood. Several hours had passed, and the view out the window showed that night had fallen. Ilisidi's haste to see the mechieti seemed to have faded somewhat, and she announced, "It is time we retired. An early morning, nadi," she added to Bren, suggesting that maybe he should retire, as well.
Ilisidi turned to Enada, "An early morning, nadi," she repeated, this time for their host's benefit. "One trusts there will be breakfast. And lunch in bags."
Enada bowed. "It will be done, aiji-dowager."
Ilisidi nodded, Bren bowed to her, and she headed up the stairs, her cane clicking on the wood.
Bren wondered if perhaps he should head that way, too, but found himself too restless to sleep, and instead headed back to where he remembered the sitting room was, recalling that he thought he had seen several filled bookshelves. At the dining room door, Banichi and Jago—ever present—met him.
"The aiji-dowager says an early morning, nadiin," he said as way of a greeting, and didn't ask where they had been. He was sure they had been scouting the premises, noting the dangerous spots and making sure the security precautions met their satisfaction. Which he trusted they did.
"Yes," Banichi said. "There will be mechieti."
So they were going to go riding. He found himself pleased at the prospect. "Until after lunch, nadiin?"
It was Jago who answered. "Yes. She intends to visit the human colony."
Of course Ilisidi would choose to ride to the colony instead of drive to it. Make the entrance of a warlord of old, high atop a mechieta. She could be quite dramatic when she chose to be.
"Would you suggest bed, nadiin?"
"We will be leaving before dawn," Banichi informed, and let him make the decision.
Which, though the books were calling, he did. "Bed, then," he decided, and changed direction toward the stairs.
Up in his room, Bindanda met him, helped him strip from the warm country clothes—which he had grown uncomfortably warm in, anyway—and then disappeared with the clothes, after making sure Bren did not need anything else. He didn't. Instead, he slipped into the bed, found that even under the heavy animal-fur blanket, the sheets—a very light, very soft linen—were cool and comfortable. He pulled the blankets up, feeling a sudden chill from outside, and had just started wondering if Jago would arrive when the door opened and she slipped inside.
He watched her undress in the dark, her body silhouetted, black background behind a blacker being, and welcomed her warmth beside him. They made love, such as it was, atevi not actually being biologically capable of feeling that particular emotion. Over the past years, he had grown quite comfortable being with her, though there was no love involved, and not every night could she come to him.
He had not found himself attracted to a human woman for a very, very long time, not even while he had spent two years aboard a space ship with mostly humans. Sometimes, he wondered if that was a problem, if he had finally become the traitor to his species that various humans over the past decade had called him.
In the middle of that thought, he slept.
And woke some time later to the movement of the bed as Jago got out of bed, and began to dress. He pushed himself up on one elbow. "Jago-ji?"
"Go back to sleep, Bren-ji," she said quietly, and buckled on her gun belt.
"Is there trouble?" he persisted.
"One hopes not, nadi," she answered, and checked her gear once more before slipping silently out of the room.
For a moment, he considered doing what she said, and going back to sleep. But then he heard voices outside and reached out into the cold air for his robe. He went to the window, still wrapping the robe about his body, and looked down into the courtyard that made up a large part of the area behind the building. He could see, against the white snow and gray granite stone of the courtyard, a fairly large grouping of their security, both his and Ilisidi's. He could see they were talking, even hear the low murmur of their voices, but could not understand what they were saying. There did seem to be quite a lot of gesturing toward the two very large gates at the other end of the courtyard, which, to his surprise, were opened.
Despite Jago's reassurance, he wondered if there wasn't some sort of trouble happening, or about to happen, and if he should perhaps dress and go down there. He had just decided it might be a good idea, and had reached for something more appropriate to wear, when Banichi showed up in the doorway, a dark, light-blocking shadow. He started.
"Go back to bed, nadi," Banichi said. "We can handle this."
"Is there trouble, nadi?"
"There shouldn't be," Banichi answered, and that was not quite the same as what Jago had told him. "Go back to sleep, Bren-ji."
He replaced the clothing as Banichi left, but did not go back to bed. Instead, he returned to his post by the window. More security had arrived. He saw Banichi stride into the courtyard. There was increased activity. Voices rose a little higher. Perhaps even arguing. The gesturing toward the gate had not stopped.
And then a moment later, everyone turned as a massive black animal came galloping around the corner, followed closely by many others, and the squeals of mechieti easily reached his ears. The courtyard was very large, but with a whole herd of mechieti suddenly occupying the courtyard, space had quickly diminished, pushing security up against the walls in order to avoid the mountains of flesh and long tusks. Those tusks, naturally used for digging at roots in the frozen ground, could easily turn into weapons if someone got in the way. In ancient times, lords going to war with neighbors had capped those tusks with sharp points and they had torn mechieta and ateva apart alike.
That first mechieta that had rounded the bend was the leader. In an open plain, whether while grazing or at a full gallop, the others would look towards that one, unconditionally. Just like atevi, no matter what, looked up the ladder of their man'chi. The ateva who rode that mechieta would be the highest up that ladder, among this particular group of riders. In that partnership, mechieta and ateva would be intricately connected in that particular way, leaders, both of them.
He tried to keep an eye on that particular mechieta, because that one's rider would likely give him the most information about what was happening. Unfortunately, that rider was heavily clothed in a hooded winter jacket. The fur-lined hood completely shaded the face.
And Bren found himself distracted by the other riders, some of whom had let down their hoods, to reveal atevi faces. But these were different from any he had ever seen before, because they were surrounded by long black hair that hung loose about their faces, falling down their backs. Atevi, as far as he had ever met, wore their long hair in a single plait that hung in the middle of their backs, between their shoulder blades. Men and women alike wore this style.
There was a stir at the door and he turned to find Narani hesitating at the doorway. Was anyone asleep? "'Rani-ji," he greeted, and motioned that he should come in.
Narani entered, and stood beside Bren at the window. "Those are mecheiti trainers, nadi," he said, and made a small sound of…disapproval? Bren wasn't sure how to translate that last, quiet snort.
"Do they always wear their hair down, nadi?"
"Yes. They say it makes them appear bigger and more intimidating to the mechieti."
Bren wondered how Narani, cultured, quiet-spoken Narani would know any of this, and then got his answer when Narani said, "I grew up here, nadi. In a township not far from here. The trainers used to bring their herds right through town. They are an uncivilized group of people."
Down below, several of the security forces had moved toward that lead mechieta, and were now speaking with the rider, who still had not let down his hood. Questionable, that was. And he suddenly became aware of a certain, telling gleam around the animals' mouths. Gold-colored. The mechieti were wearing the brass battle caps on their tusks! He looked again to the lead mechieta, and saw that, yes, that one, too, had the caps. And was it his imagination, or was that dark spot blood?
"What is happening, 'Rani-ji? Why are they here? Where have they come from?"
"From the north," Narani explained. "You should ask your security why they are here, nadi."
Outside, security had continued to talk with the rider of the lead mechieta, and suddenly Bren realized that that particular rider seemed smaller than the other riders, perhaps even as small as a child. But no, a child would not be a tamer of mechieta. In which case, it had to be a very old ateva. Like Ilisidi, who actually stood at his height, made smaller by age.
He guessed, then, that their midnight visitors were more important than Narani let on, more than simply uncivilized tamers of mechieta. And he decided, as a ripple of activity moved through the herd and huge masses of black flesh moved with surprising agility and alarming speed, that perhaps, despite the advice of his security, it was time he went down and saw what was happening. He couldn't shake the sight of that dark patch on the capped tusk, and even as he prepared to ask Narani to set out some clothes, he noticed that there were more dark patches.
"Nadi—" he began, looking back at the major domo of his staff. But then his attention was drawn once again back to the courtyard as there was a sudden burst of noise and activity. The lead rider wielded his animal about, eliciting a squeal, and then those powerful haunches bunched, launching mechieta and rider toward the gate. The courtyard filled with the sounds of mechieti moving and communicating and snorting, and the space quickly emptied of everyone save for security.
"Nand' paidhi," Narani began.
"I regret I have kept you from sleep," Bren said. "Please, get some rest. One hears we move early in the morning, nadi."
Narani bowed, and left the room. Bren flung the robe over the back of a chair and got back into bed, intending to stay awake until Jago came back, so he could attempt to pry information from her. But almost as soon as his head sank into the soft pillow, he felt sleep take a hold of him, and despite his attempt to keep his eyes open, he fell into a deep sleep that was not even disrupted when Jago returned.