his shoulder. "There was no one in the world who he would ever be able
to speak with the way he spoke to her. They knew things between them
that even Otah could never share-moments in Saraykeht, and after. It
wasn't only the great moments-the birth of Nayiit, the death of Heshai,
their own last parting; there were also the small ones. The time she'd
gotten ill on crab soup and he'd nursed her and cared for the still
squalling Nayiit. The flute player with the dancing dog they'd given a
length of silver at a firekeeper's kiln in Yalakeht. The way the autumn
came to Saravkeht when they were still young.
When she left again, there would he no one to talk to about those
things. When she went to the South again and he became the new I)aikvo,
there would he no one to remind him of those moments. It made them more
precious. It made her more precious.
"I'll protect you," he said. "Don't worry, love. I'll protect us all."
lie heard approaching footsteps, and he could feel it in Liat's body
when she did as well. She stepped hack, and he let her, but he kept hold
of one hand. Even if only for a moment. An urgent knock came at the
door, and Cehmai's voice.
"N1aati-kvo!"
"Come in. Come in. What's the matter?"
The poet's face was flushed, his eyes wide. It took a moment for him to
catch his breath before he could speak.
"'I'he Khai says you should come. Now," Cehmai gasped. "Sinja's hack."
22
When Sinja finished his report and was silent, Otah forced his breath to
be deep and regular, waiting until he could speak. His voice was tight
and controlled.
"You have spent the season fighting beside the Galts?"
"'T'hey were winning."
"Is that supposed to be funny?"
Ile was thinner than ()tali remembered him. The months on the road had
left Sinja's face drawn, his cheekbones sharp. Ills skin was leathery
from the sun and wind. He hadn't changed his robes, and he smelled of
horses. Ills casual air seemed false, a parody of the certain, amused,
detached man whom Otah had sent away, and Otah couldn't say if it was
the captain who'd changed more or himself.
Kivan, the only other person in the chamber, sat apart from the pair of
them, at the couch nearest the fire. Her hands were fists in her lap,
her spine straight and still as a tree. Her face was expressionless.
Sinja's gaze flickered toward her, and then came back to Otah. The
captain took a pose that apologized.
"I'm not trying to he light about this, Most I ligh," Sinja said. "But
it's truth. By the time I knew they weren't attacking the \Vestlands, I
could no more have excused myself and ridden on than flapped my arms and
flown. I did what I could to slow them, but yes, when they called on us,
we fought beside them. When they needed interpreters, we spoke for them.
I suppose we could have thrown ourselves on their spears and died nobly,
but then I wouldn't he here to warn you now."
"You betrayed the Khaiem," Otah said.
"And I'm betraying the Galts now," Sinja replied, his voice calm. "If
you can judge the balance on that, you're smarter than I am. I've done
what I've done, :Most Iligh. If I chose wrong, I'll apologize, except I
don't think I have."
"Let it go," Utah said. "W'e'll deal with it later."
"I'd rather do it now," Sinja said, shifting his weight. "If I'm going
to be drowned as a traitor, I'd like to know it."
Utah felt the rage rise up in his breast like a flame uncurling. IIe
heard it in his ears.
"You want pardon?"
"For the boys too," Sinja said. "I swear I'll do everything I can to
earn it."
You'll swear anything you like and break the oath when it suits you,
Otah thought. He bit his lip until he thought it might bleed, but he
didn't shout. He didn't call for the armsmen who waited outside the
great blue doors. It would have been simple to have the man killed. It
would have even felt like justice, he thought. I Its own man. His friend
and advisor. Walking beside the Galttc general. Giving him advice. But
the rage wasn't only rage. It was also fear. And despair. And so no
matter how right it felt, it couldn't be trusted.
"Don't ask me for anything again."
"I won't, Otah-cha." And then a moment later, "You're a harder man than
when I left."
"I've earned it."
"It suits von.
A rattle came from the door, and then a polite scratching, and Cehmai,
Nlaati, and Liat came in the room. "Their faces were flushed, and
Nlaati's breath was heavy as if he'd been running. Otah frowned. He
wouldn't have chosen to have Ifiat here, but she'd helped Kiyan with the
preparations of the city and the quartering of the refugees of Cetani,
so perhaps it was for the best after all. I Ic took a general pose of
greeting.
"What's ... happened," \Iaati wheezed.
"Wc have a problem," Otah said.
"The Galts?" Liat asked.
"'l'en thousand of them," Kiyan said, speaking for the first time since
Stnja had begun his report. I ler voice was solid as stone. "Foot
soldiers and archers and horsemen. They won't reach its today. But
tomorrow, perhaps. 'T'hree days at the most."
Nlaati's face went white and he sat down hard, like a puppet whose
strings had been cut. I,iat and Cchmai didn't move to help him. The room
was silent except for the murmur of the fire. Otah let the moment pass.
"There was nothing he could say just now that they wouldn't think for
themselves in the next few heartbeats. Cehmai recovered the fastest, his
brows rising, his mouth going tight and hard.
"What do we do?" the younger poet asked.
"We have some advantages," Otah said. "We outnumber them. We know the
city. We're in a position to defend, and holding a city's easier than
forcing your way in."
"On the other hand," Sinja said, "they're soldiers. You aren't. They
know that they need shelter from the cold and need it quickly. Taking
Machi's their only option. And they know a fair amount about the city as
well."
"You told them that too?" Otah asked.
""They've had their agents and traders in all the cities for
generations," Kiyan said softly. "They've put their hands in our
affairs. They've walked the streets and sat in the bathhouses. They have
trading houses that wintered here when your father was Khai."