Deliberations: A Foreigner Short Story Read Free

all deserved a warning of his intentions, and he had to give it, if not tonight, tomorrow.
    As well it be sooner. He was confident he had enough backing. The Taibeni, his mother’s clan, were particularly upset at his grandmother’s long intrigue with their neighbor, Lord Tatiseigi, of Atageini clan— the Taibeni more than mistrusted Lord Tatiseigi’s ambitions. Taiben and the Atageini had been technically at war for nearly two hundred years...ever since the War of the Landing, when atevi had pushed humans to the sea.
    He had the liberals, all of them, in his hand. They had chafed under his grandmother’s rule.
    He had the backing of the Northern Association, which also distrusted Lord Tatiseigi and his influence— that association had a very lively feud with Lord Tatiseigi, which his father had patched up in recent months, but it took very little nudging to have it break loose again.
    His grandmother had all the East, which was half the continent, but it was a mountainous, empty half: there was little population, except in three broad valleys, and on the coast.
    She had a massive Guild presence— few other lords of the East had allowed the guilds within their territories, when they had applied to come in, but his grandmother had more than allowed them. She had declared her large bodyguard was for regional stability, in a land still clinging to feudal ways. And the East, for years, had trained its own.
    She had gained the good opinion of the traditionalists...but she had alienated the south, the Marid, itself intensely traditional. The Marid was upset over her campaign to settle old political debts on the west coast, which the Marid had had ambitions to own from before humans ever landed.
    It was a delicate balance the aiji-regent had maintained all along: allies deeply uneasy with each other, upset at the contradictions they saw in her actions. There were rumors— matters more of man’chi and passion and fears of what she might do next, than of any substantive action that she had actually taken. Her own allies feared her, making a wispy set of connections that amounted to nothing anyone could name— except she was Eastern, not western, and she had a massive personal guard.
    Ilisidi had been aiji-consort before her two administrations as aiji-regent. The aishidi’tat had been under her governance longer than any single aiji had ever served. She was showing her age, and even some of the conservatives began to talk of what came next.
    Ilisidi swore her health was fragile. She still rode, she still hunted, she was a dead shot, but now and again she walked with a cane. She suffered from myalgia and she had palpitations.
    Of course she had palpitations and myalgias— every time a minister had a presentation she disapproved. She had headaches. She had indispositions. When she did listen— she listened to what already pleased her, and those who confronted her often found their prepared speeches dwinding away in confusion in the face of her interruptions and her questions. Anyone who brought a proposal with which Ilisidi did not already agree had better have his facts and arguments in good order.
    She was the canniest, the most dangerous politician ever to hold the aijinate, and a gambler would not lay odds even her grandson knew every stew she had had a finger in, or what she had promised this and that supporter under what conditions.
    Popular? Still wildly so in some quarters. And the traditionalist number-counters who tracked horoscopes and the numerology of the world maintained that she would have a long, long rule.
    He had added his own numbers, in his own way, putting no more real credence in the ‘counters than Ilisidi did. His personal numbers now completely excluded Wilson-paidhi, who had refused to meet with him. He would remember that. The moment he took the aishidi’tat, Wilson would be on his way back to Mospheira— if Wilson was lucky. Let the Mospheirans worry how they were to talk to the aiji in