elsewhere. The Galts in Machi. He tried to make Biitrah's death, the
attack on Maati, and his own improbable freedom into some pattern, but
no two things seemed to fit. He drank his wine, feeling the warmth
spread through his throat and belly.
"I need your word on something, Amiit-cha. That if I tell you what I
know, you won't act on it lightly. There are lives at stake."
"Galtie lives?"
"Innocent ones."
Amiit considered silently. His face was closed. Otah poured more water
into his cup. Amiit silently took a pose that accepted the offered
terms. Otah looked at his hands, searching for the words he needed to say.
"Saraykeht. When Seedless acted against Heshai-kvo there, the Gaits were
involved. They were allied with the andat. I believe they hoped to find
the andat willing allies in their own freedom, only Seedless was ...
unreliable. They hurt Heshai badly, even though their plan failed. They
aren't the ones who murdered him, but Heshai-kvo let himself be killed
rather than expose them."
"Why would he do an idiot thing like that?"
"He knew what would happen. He knew what the Khai Saraykeht would do."
Otah felt himself on the edge of confession, but he stopped before
admitting that the poet had died at his hands. There was no need, and
that, at least, was one secret that he chose to keep to himself.
Instead, he looked up and met Amiit's gaze. When the overseer spoke, his
voice was calm, measured, careful.
"He would have slaughtered Galt," Amiit said.
"Innocent lives."
"And some guilty ones."
"A few."
Amiit leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled before his lips.
Otah could almost see the calculations taking place behind those calm,
dark eyes.
"So you think this is about the poets?"
"It was last time," Otah said. "Let me send a letter to Maati. Let me
warn him-"
"We can't. You're dead, and half the safety we can give you depends on
your staying dead until we know more than this. But ... but I can tell a
few well-placed people to be on alert. And give them some idea what to
be alert for. Another Saraykeht would be devastating." Amiit sighed
deeply. "And here I thought only the succession, your life, and my house
were in play. Poets now, too."
Amiit's smile was thoughtful.
"I'll give you this. You make the world more interesting, Itani-cha. Or...?"
He took a pose that asked for correction.
"Otah. Much as I've fought against it, my name is Otah Machi. We might
as well both get used to saying it."
"Otah-cha, then," Amiit said. He seemed pleased, as if he'd won some
small victory.
Voices came up through the window. The commander's was already familiar
even after so short a time. Otah couldn't make out the words, but he
sounded pleased. Another voice answered him that Otah didn't know, but
the woman's laughter that pealed out after it was familiar as water.
Otah felt the air go thin. He stood and walked slowly to the open
shutters. There in the yard behind the farmhouse Sinja and one of the
archers were standing beside a lovely woman in loose cotton robes the
blue of the sky at twilight. Her fox-thin face was smiling, one eyebrow
arched as she said something to the commander, who chuckled in his turn.
Her hair was dark and shot with individual strands of white that she had
had since birth.
He saw the change in Kiyan's stance when she noticed him-a release and
relaxation. She walked away from the two men and toward the open window.
Otah's heart beat fast as if he'd been running. She stopped and put out
her hands, palms up and open. It wasn't a formal pose, and seemed to
mean here I am and here you are and who would have guessed this all at once.
"She came to me not long after you left," Amiit said from where he sat.
"I'm half-partner in her wayhouse down in Udun. We've been keeping it a
quiet arrangement, though. There's something to be said for having a
whole wayhouse of one's own without the couriers of other houses knowing
it's yours."
Otah wanted to look hack at the man, but his gaze seemed fastened on
Kiyan. He thought he caught a faint blush rising in her cheeks. She
shook her head as if clearing away some unwanted thought and walked in
toward the house and out of his view. She was smiling, though. Sinja had
also caught sight of Otah in the window and took a pose of congratulation.
"She's changed her mind, then. About me?"
"Apparently."
Otah turned back and leaned against the wall. Its coolness surprised
him. After so many days in the cell at the tower's height, he'd come to
think of stone as warm. Amiit poured himself another cup of wine. Otah
swallowed to loosen his throat. The question didn't want to be asked.
"Why? What changed it?"
"I have known Kiyan-cha well for almost a quarter of this year. Not even
that. You've been her lover for what? Three summers? And you want me to
explain her mind to you? You've become an optimist."
Otah sat because his knees felt too weak to hold him. Amiit chuckled
again and rose.
"You'll need rest for a few days. And some food and space enough to move
again. We'll have you strong enough to do whatever it is needs doing, I
hope. This place is better watched than it looks. We'll have warning if
anyone comes near. Don't let any of this trouble you for now; you can
trust us to watch over things."
"I want to see her," Otah said.
"I know," Amiit said, clapping him on the shoulder. "And she wants to
see you. It's why I'm leaving. Just remember you haven't eaten to speak
of in days, you're weak from the cell, you've hardly slept, and you were
abducted last night. Don't expect too much from yourself. There really
is no hurry."
Otah blushed now, and Amiit grabbed one last apple and made for the
door. Kiyan reached it just as he did, and he stepped back to let her
through. He closed the door gently behind him. Otah rose to his feet,
suddenly tongue-tied. Kiyan also didn't speak, but her gaze traveled
over him. He could see the distress in it even though she tried to keep
it hidden.
"'Tani," she said, "you ... you look terrible."
"It's the beard," Otah said. "I'll shave it."
She didn't take up the humor, only walked across the room and folded him
into her arms. The scent of her skin flooded him with a hundred jumbled
memories of her. He put his arm around her, embarrassed to notice that
his hand was unsteady.
"I didn't think I'd be seeing you again," he murmured. "I never meant to
put you at risk."
"What did they do to you? Gods, what have they done?"
"Not so much. They only didn't feed me well fora time and locked me
away. It wasn't so had."
She kissed his check and pulled back from him until each could see the
other's face. 't'here were tears in her eyes, but she was angry.
"They were going to kill you," she said.
"Well, yes. I mean, I thought that was assumed."
"I'll kill them all with my bare hands if you'd like," she said with a
smile that meant she was only half joking.
"That might be more than the situation calls for. But ... why are you
here? I thought ... I thought I was too much a risk to you."
"That didn't change. Other things ... other things did. Come. Sit with me."
Kiyan took a bite of the cheese and poured herself water. Her hands were
thin and strong and as lovely as a sculpture. Otah rubbed his temples
with the palms of his hands, hoping that this was all as real as it
seemed, that he wouldn't wake again in the cell above the city.
"Sinja-cha told me you wanted to turn hack. He said it was because of
me. That your being there kept them from searching me out."
"Knowing me shouldn't have that kind of price on it," Otah said. "It was
... it was what I could do. That's all."
"Thank you," she said, her voice solemn.
Kiyan looked out the window. There was a dread in the lines of her
mouth, a fear that confused him. He reached out, thinking to take her
hand in his own, but the movement brought her back and a smile flitted
over her and was gone.
"I don't know if you want to hear this. But I've been waiting to say it
for longer than I can stand, and so I'm going to be selfish. And I don't
know how to. Not well."
"Is it something I'll want to hear?"
"I don't know. I hope ... I ... Gods. Here. When you left, I missed you
worse than I'd expected. I was sick with it. Physically ill. I thought I
should be patient. I thought it would pass. And then I noticed that I
seemed to miss you most in the early mornings. You understand?"
She looked Otah deep in the eye, and he frowned, trying to find some
deeper significance in the words. And then he did, and he felt the world
drop away from tinder him. He took a pose of query, and she replied with
a confirmation.
"Ah," he said and then sat, utterly at a loss. After ten or twenty
breaths, Kiyan spoke again.
"The midwife thinks sometime around Candles Night. Maybe a lit tle
after. So you see, I knew there was no avoiding the issue, not as long
as I was carrying a baby with your blood in it. I went to Amiit-cha and
we ... he, really ... put things in motion."
"There are blood teas," Otah said.
"I know. The midwife offered them to me. Would you ... I mean, is that
what you would have wanted?"
"No! Only I ... I'd thought you wouldn't give up what you had. Your
father's wayhouse. I don't know that I have much of a life to give you.
I was a dead man until a little before dawn today. But if you want ..."
"I wouldn't have left the wayhouse for you, 'Tani. It's where I grew up.
It's my home, and I wouldn't give it up for a man. Not even a good man.
I made that decision the night you told me who your father was. But for
the both of you. Or really, even just for her. That's a harder question."
"Her?"
"Or him," Kiyan said. "Whichever. But I suppose that puts the decision
in your hands now. The last time I saw you, I turned you out of my
house. I won't use this as a means of forcing you into something you'd
rather not. I've made my choice, not yours."
Perhaps it was the fatigue or the wine, but it took Otah the space of
two or three breaths to understand what she was saying. lie felt the
grin draw hack the corners of his mouth until they nearly ached.
"I want you to be with me, Kiyan-kya. I want you to always be with me.
And the baby too. If I have to flee to the Westlands and herd sheep, I
want you both with me."
Kiyan breathed in deeply, and let the breath out with a rough stutter.
He hadn't seen how unsure she'd been until now, when the relief relaxed
her face. She took his hand and squeezed it until he thought both of
their bones were creaking.
"That's good. That's very good. I would have been . . ." laughter
entered her voice ". . . very disappointed."
A knock at the door startled them both. The commander opened the door
and then glanced from one of the laughing pair to the other. His face
took a stern expression.
"You told him," Sinja said. "You should at least let the man rest before
you tell him things like that. He's had a hard day."
"He's been up to the task," Kiyan said.
"Well, I've come to make things worse. We've just had a runner from the
city, Otah-cha. It appears you've murdered your father in his sleep.
Your brother Danat led a hunting party bent on bringing back your head
on a stick, but apparently you've killed him too. You're running out of
family, Otah-cha."
"Ah," Otah said, and then a moment later. "I think perhaps I should lie
down now."
They burned the Khai Machi and his son together in the yard outside the
temple. The head priest wore his hale robes, the hood pulled low over
his eyes in respect, and tended the flames. Thick, black smoke rose from
the pyre and vanished into the air high above the city. A~Iachi had
woken from its revels to find the world worse than when they'd begun,
and Cehmai saw it in every face he passed. A thousand of them at least
stood in the afternoon sun. Shock and sorrow, confusion and fear.
And excitement. In a few eyes among the utkhaicm, he saw the bright eyes
and sharp ears of men who smelled opportunity. Ile walked among them,