"You will."
"Still," Otah said. "If. . ."
"If," Kiyan agreed and took his hand. "Then, a long moment later, "We
were never lovers, he and I. Not the way ..."
Otah put a finger to her lips, and she went quiet. There were tears in
her eyes, and in his.
"Let's not open that again," he said.
"You could come away too. We could all leave quietly. The four of us and
a fast cart."
"And spend our lives on a beach in Bakta," Otah said. "I can't. I have
this thing to do. My city."
"I know. But I had to say it, just so I know it was said."
Otah looked down. His hands looked old-the knuckles knobbier than he
thought of them, the skin looser. They weren't an old man's hands, but
they weren't a young man's any longer. When he spoke, his voice was low
and thoughtful.
"It's strange, you know. I've spent years chafing under the weight of
being Khai Mach], and now that it's harder than it ever was, now that
there's something real to lose, I can't let go of it. 'T'here was a man
once who told me that if it were a choice between holding a live coal in
my hare fist or letting a city of innocent people die, of course I would
do my best to stand the pain. That it was what any decent man would do."
"Don't apologize," Kiyan said.
"Was I apologizing?"
"Yes," she said. "You were. You shouldn't. I'm not angry with you, and
there's nothing to blame you for. They all think you've changed, you
know, but this is who you've always been. You were a poor Khai Machi
because it didn't matter until now. I understand; I'm just frightened to
death, love. It's nothing you can spare me."
"Nlaati could be wrong," Otah said. "The Galts may be busy rolling over
the Westlands and none of it anything to do with Stone-MadeSoft. I may
arrive at the 1Jai-kvo's village and be laughed all the way back North."
"He's not wrong."
The great stones of the palaces creaked as they cooled, the summer sun
fallen behind the mountains. The scent of incense long since burned and
the smoke of snuffed lanterns filled the air like a voice gone silent.
Shadows touched the corners of the apartments, deepening the reds of the
tapestries and giving the light a feeling of physical presence. Kiyan's
hand felt warm and lost in his own.
"I know he's not," Otah said.
lie left orders with the servants at his door that unless there was
immediate threat to him or his family-fire or sudden illness or an army
crossing the river-he was to he left alone for the night. He would speak
with no one, he would read no letter or contract, he wished no
entertainments. Only a simple meal for him and his wife, and the silence
for the two of them to fill as they saw fit.
They told stories-reminiscences of Old Mani and the wayhouse in I1dun,
the sound of the birds by the river. The time a daughter of one of the
high families had snuck into the rooms her lover had taken and had to be
smuggled back out. Otah told stories from his time as a courier,
traveling the cities on the business of House Siyanti under his false
name. They were all stories she'd heard before, of course. She knew all
his stories.
They made love seriously and gently and with a profound attention. He
savored every touch, every scent and motion. He fought to remember them
and her, and he felt Kiyan's will to store the moment away, like food
packed away for the long empty months after the last leaf of autumn has
fallen. It was, Otah supposed, the kind of sex lovers had on the nights
before wars, pleasure and fear and a sorrow that anticipated the losses
ahead. And afterward, he lay against her familiar, beloved body and
pretended to sleep until, all unaware, the pretense became truth and he
dreamed of looking for a white raven that everyone else but him had
seen, and of a race through the tunnels beneath Machi that began and
ended at his father's ashes. He woke to the cool light of morning and
Kiyan's voice.
"Sweet," she said again. Otah blinked and stretched, remembering his
body. "Sweet, there's someone come to see you. I think you should speak
with him."
Otah sat up and adopted a pose that asked the question, but Kiyan, half
smiling, nodded toward the bedchamber's door. Before the servants could
come and dress him, Otah pulled on rose-red outer robes over his bare
skin and, still tying the stays, walked out to the main rooms. Ashua
Radaani sat at the edge of a chair, his hands clasped between his knees.
His face was as pale as fresh dough, and the jewels set in his rings and
sewn in his robes seemed awkward and lost.
"Ashua-cha," Utah said, and the man was already on his feet, already in
a pose of formal greeting. "What's happened?"
"Most High, my brother in Cetani ... I received a letter from him last
night. The Khai Cetani is keeping it quiet, but no one has seen poet or
andat in the court in some time."
"Not since the day Stone-blade-Soft escaped," Utah said.
"As nearly as we can reckon it," he agreed.
Utah nodded, but took no formal pose. Kiyan stood in the doorway, her
expression half pleasure and half dread.
"May I have the men I asked of you, Ashua-cha?"
"You may have every man in my employ, Most High. And myself as well."
"I will take whoever is ready at dawn tomorrow," Utah said. "I won't
wait past that."
Ashua Radaani bowed his way out, and Utah stood watching him leave. That
would help, he thought. EIe'd want the word spread that Radaani was
firmly behind him. The other houses and families might then change their
opinions of what help could he spared. If he could double the men he'd
expected to have ...
Kivan's low chuckle startled him. She still stood in the doorway, her
arms crossed under her breasts. Her smile was gentle and amazed. Otah
raised in hands in query.
"I have just watched the Khai Machi gravely accept the apology and sworn
aid of his servant Radaani. A day ago you were an annoyance to that man.
"Today, you're a hero from an Old Empire epic. I've never seen things
change around a man so quickly as they change around vou."
"It's only because he's frightened. He'll recover," Otah said. "I'll he
an incompetent again when he's safe and the world's hack where it was."
"It won't be, love," Kiyan said. "The world's changed, and it's not
changing hack, whatever we do."