expect us to abandon Cetani without a fight."
"You'll lose," Otah said.
"We are a city of fifty thousand people. These invaders of yours are at
most five."
`They're soldiers. They know what they're doing. You might slow them,
but you won't stop them."
The Khai Cetani sat, crossing his legs. His smile was almost a sneer.
"You think because you failed, no one else can succeed?"
"I think if we had a season, perhaps two, to build an army, we might
withstand them. Hire mercenaries to train the men, drill them, build
walls around at least the inner reaches of the cities, and we might
stand a chance. As it is, we don't. I've seen what they did to the
village of the [tai-kvo. I've had reports from Yalakeht. Amnat-Tan will
fall if it hasn't already. They will come here next. You have fifty
thousand, including the infirm and the aged and children too young to
hold a sword. You don't have weapons enough or armor or experience. My
proposal is our best hope."
It was an argument he had wrestled with through many of the long nights
of his journey to the North. Force of arms would not stop the Gaits.
Slowing them, letting the winter come and protect them for the long,
dark months in which no attacking force would survive the fields of ice
and brutally cold nights, winning time for the poets to work a little
miracle, bind one of the andat and save them all-it was a thin hope but
it was the best they had. And slowly, during the days swaying on
horseback and nights sitting by smoldering braziers, Otah had found the
plan that he believed would win him this respite. Now If the Khai Cetani
would simply see the need of it.
"If you bring your people to Machi, we will have twice as many people
who can take the field against the Galts. And if you will do what I've
suggested with the coal and food, the Galts will be much worse for the
travel than we will he."
"And Cetani will fall without resistance. We will roll over like a soft
quarter whore," the Khai Cetani said. "It's simple enough for you to
sacrifice my city, isn't it?"
"None of this is easy. But simple? Yes, it's simple. Bring your people
to Machi. Bring all the food you can carry and burn what you can't. Mix
hard coal in with the soft, so that what we leave behind for the (;alts
will burn too hot in their steam wagons, and give me the loan of five
hundred of your best men. I'll give you a winter and the library of
Machi. Between your poet and the two at my court-"
"I have no poet."
Otah took a pose of query.
"Ile died half a month ago, trying to regain his andat," the Khai Cetani
said. "His skin went black as a new bruise and his bones all shattered.
I have no poet. All I have is a city, and I won't give it away for nothing!"
The Khai Cetani's words ended in a shout. His face was red with fury.
And with fear. There was no more that Otah could say now that would sway
him, but years in the gentleman's trade had taught Otah something about
negotiations that the Khaiem had never known. lie nodded and took a pose
that formally withdrew him from the conversation.
"You and your men will stay here," the Khai Cetani said, continuing to
speak despite Otah's gesture. "We will make our stand here, at Cetani.
We will not fall."
"You will," Otah said. "And my men will leave in the morning, with me.
The Khai Cetani was breathing fast, as if he had run a race. Otah took a
pose of farewell, then turned and strode from the garden. To the east,
clouds darkened the horizon. The scent of coming rain touched the air.
Otah's armsmen and servants fell in with him. The eyes of Cetani's
utkhaiem were on the little procession as Otah walked to the apartments
granted him by the Khai. He was a curiosity-one of the Khaiem walking
with the swagger of a man who'd sat too long on a horse, his retinue
looking more like a mercenary captain's crew than courtiers. And Otah
suspected that martial air, however undeserved, would serve him. He
scowled the way he imagined Sinja might have in his place.
Ashua Radaani was sitting at the fire grate deep in conversation with
Saya the blacksmith when Otah entered the wide hall that served as the
center of the visitors' palace. Battle and loss and the common enemy of
Galt had mixed with the shared recognition of competence to make the two
men something like friends. They stood and took poses of respect and
welcome that Otah waved away. He sat on a low cushion by the fire and
sent his servant boy to find them tea and something to eat.
"It didn't go well, I take it," Radaani said.
"It didn't go well and it didn't go badly," Otah said. "He's smart
enough to be frightened. "That's good. I was afraid he'd be certain of
himself. But his poet's dead. "Tried to recapture his andat and paid its
price."
Radaani sighed.
"Did he agree to your plan, Most High?" Saya asked.
"No," Otah said. "tie's determined that Cetani not fall without a fight.
I've told him we're leaving with him or without him. How was your
hunting, Ashua-cha?"
Radaani leaned forward. His features were thinner than they had been in
Machi, and the ring he turned on his finger wasn't so snug as it had
once been.
"The court's frightened," he said. "There are a few people who came here
from Yalakeht, and the stories ... well, either they've grown in the
telling, or it wasn't pretty there. And the couriers from Amnat- 'l an
haven't come the last two days."
""I'hat's bad," Otah said. "Will we have time, do you think?"
"I don't know," Ashua said. He seemed to search for more words, but in
the end only shook his head.
"Get the men ready," Otah said. "We'll give Cetani tomorrow to join us.
After that, we'll head home. With enough time, we might be able to tear
up some sections of the road behind us. Slow down the Galts, even if we
can't do all we hoped against them."
"What about the hooks?" Saya asked. "If their poet's dead, it isn't as
if they'll have need of them. Perhaps ours would make something of them."
"I can ask," Otah said. "With luck, we'll have the books and the people
and the food stores."
"But the Khai refused you, Most High," Sava said.
Otah smiled and shook his head. Only now that he found himself a moment
to rest did the weariness drag at him. He tried to think how many days
he'd been riding from first light to last. A lifetime, it felt like. He