"That's good," Liat said. "Things at the bridge are under control. We've
set up a tent for the physicians down there, and there's food enough.
There will be more tomorrow, but I think they've all been seen to."
"Gods, Liat-cha. You look like death and you're cold. Let me have
someone see you to the baths, get you warm. Have you eaten?"
She hadn't, but she pushed the thought aside.
"I need something from you, Kiyan-cha."
"Ask."
"Nayiit. He needs ... something. He needs something to do. Something
that he can he proud of. Ile came back from the battle ..."
"I know," Kiyan said. "I know what happened there. It was in Otah's letter."
"He needs to help," I,iat said, surprised at the pleading tone of her
own voice. She hadn't known she felt so desperate for him. "Ile needs to
matter."
Kiyan nodded slowly, then leaned close and kissed Liat's cheek. The
woman's lips felt almost hot against Liat's chilled skin.
"I understand, Liat-kya," she said. "Go and rest. I'll see to it. I
promise , you.
Weeping with fatigue, Liat found her way to her apartments, to her
bedchamber, to her bed. Her belly ached with hunger, but she only drank
the full carafe of water the servants had left at her bedside. By the
time her body learned that it had been tricked, she would already be
asleep. She closed her eyes for a moment before pulling off her robes
and woke, still dressed, in the morning. The light sifted through the
shutters, pressing in at the seams. The night candle was a lump of spent
wax, and the air didn't smell of the dying wick. There was something,
though. Pork. Bread. Liat sat up, her head light.
She stripped off yesterday's robes, sticky with sleep sweat, and pulled
on a simple sitting robe of thick gray wool. When she stepped out to the
main rooms, Kiyan was still arranging the meal on its table.
"Thick slices of pink-white meat, bread so fresh it still steamed, trout
baked with lemon and salt, poached pears on a silver plate. And a teapot
that smelled of white tea and honey. Liat's stomach woke with a sharp pang.
"°I'hey told me you hadn't eaten last night," she said. "Either of you.
I thought I might bring along something to keep you breathing."
"Kiyan-cha . . ." Liat began, then broke off and simply took a pose of
gratitude. Kiyan smiled. She was a beautiful woman, and age was treating
her gently. The intelligence in her eyes was matched by the humor. Otah
was lucky, Liat thought, to have her.
"It's a trick, really," Kiyan said. "I've come pretending to be a
servant girl, when I actually want to speak with Nayiit. If he's awake."
"I am."
His voice came from the shadows of his bedchambers. Nayiit stepped out.
His hair pointed in a hundred directions. His eyes were red and puffy. A
thin sprinkling of stubble cast a shadow on his jaw. Kiyan took a pose
of greeting. He returned it.
"How can I he of service, Kiyan-cha?" he asked. Liat could tell from the
too-precise diction that he'd spent his night drinking. He closed his
bedroom doors behind him as he stepped in, and Liat more than half
thought it was to protect the privacy of whatever woman was sleeping in
his bed. Something passed across Kiyan's sharp features; it might have
been compassion or sorrow, understanding or recognition. Liat couldn't
say, and it was gone almost as soon as it came.
"That's the question, Nayiit-cha. I have something to ask of you. It may
come to nothing, and if you should have to act upon my request, I'm
afraid I won't be in a position to repay you."
Nayiit came forward slowly and sat at the table. Kiyan filled a plate
for him as she spoke, casual as if she were a wayhouse keeper, and he a
simple guest.
"You've heard the gossip from Cetani, I assume," she said.
"They've fled before the Galts. The Khai-hoth of them-are in the rear.
To protect the people if the Galts come from behind."
"Yes," Kiyan said. "It's actually more complex than that. Otah has
invented a scheme. If it works, he may win us a few months. Perhaps
through the winter. If not, I think we can assume the Galts will be here
shortly after the last of our cousins from Cetani have arrived."
It was a casual way to express the raw fear that every one of them might
die violently before the first frost came. Our lives are measured in
days now, Liat thought. But Kiyan had not paused to let the thought grow.
"There is an old mine a day's ride to the North of Machi. It was dug
when the first Khai Machi set up residence here. It's been tapped out
for generations, but the tunnels are still there. I've been quietly
moving supplies to it. A bit of food. Blankets. Coal. A few boxes of
gold and jewels. Enough for a few people to survive a winter and still
have enough to slip across the passes and into the Westlands when spring
came."
Nayiit took a pose that accepted all she said. Kiyan smiled and leaned
forward to touch Nayiit's hands with her own. She seemed at ease except
for the tears that had gathered in her eyes.
"If the Galts come," she said, "will you take F,iah and Danat there?
Will you ..."
Kiyan stopped, her smile crumbling. She visibly gathered herself. A
long, slow breath. And even still, when she spoke, it was hardly more
than a whisper.
"If they come, will you protect my children?"
You brilliant, vicious snake, Liar thought. You glorious bitch. You'd
ask him to love your son. You'd make caring for I)anat the proof that my
boy's a decent man. And you're doing it because I asked you to.
It's perfect.
"I would be honored," Nayiit said. The sound of his voice and the
awestruck expression in his eyes were all that Liat needed to see how
well Kivan had chosen.
""Thank you, Nayiit-kya," Kiyan said. She looked over to I,iat, and her
eyes were guarded. They both knew what had happened here. Liat carefully
took a pose of thanks, unsure as she did what precisely she meant by it.
THE LIBRARY OF CETANI WAS MCCII SMALLER THAN MACIII'S. PERHAPS A third
as many hooks and codices, not more than half as many scrolls. They
arrived on Maati's doorway in sacks and baskets, crates and wooden
boxes. A letter accompanied them, hardly more than a terse note with
Otah's seal on it, telling him that there was no living poet to ask what
texts would he of use, that as a result he'd sent everything, and