A Betrayal in Winter (lpq-2) (26 page)

A servant boy interrupted, announcing Cehmai. Maati took a pose of

acknowledgment and had the young poet brought to him. He looked unwell,

Maati thought. His skin was too pale, his eyes troubled. He couldn't

think that Otah-kvo was bothering Cehmai badly, but surely something was.

Still, the boy managed a grin and when he sat, he moved with more energy

than Maati himself felt.

"You sent for me, Maati-kvo?"

"I have work," he said. "You offered to help me with this project once.

And I could do with your aid, if you still wish to lend it."

"You aren't stopping?"

Maati considered. He could say again that the Dai-kvo had told him to

discover the murderer of Biitrah Machi and whether Otah-kvo had had a

hand in it, and that until he'd done so, he would keep to his task. It

had been a strong enough argument for the utkhaiem, even for the Khai.

But Cehmai had known the Dai-kvo as well as he had, and more recently.

He would see how shallow the excuse was. In the end he only shook his head.

"I am not stopping," he said.

"May I ask why not?"

"They are going to kill Otah-kvo."

"Yes," Cehmai agreed, his voice calm and equable. Maati might as well

have said that winter would be cold.

"And I have a few days to find whose crimes he's carrying."

Cehmai frowned and took a pose of query.

"They'll kill him anyway," Cehmai said. "If he killed Biitrah, they'll

execute him for that. If he didn't, Danat will do the thing to keep his

claim to be the Khai. Either way he's a dead man."

"That's likely true," Maati said. "But I've done everything else I can

think to do, and this is still left, so I'll do this. If there is

anything at all I can do, I have to do it."

"In order to save your teacher," Cehmai said, as if he understood.

"To sleep better twenty years from now," Maati said, correcting him. "If

anyone asks, I want to he able to say that I did what could be done. And

I want to be able to mean it. "That's more important to me than saving him."

Cehmai seemed puzzled, but Maati found no better way to express it

without mentioning his son's name, and that would open more than it

would close. Instead he waited, letting the silence argue for him.

Cehmai took a pose of acceptance at last, and then tilted his head.

"Maati-kvo ... I'm sorry, but when was the last time you slept?"

Maati smiled and ignored the question.

"I'm going to meet with one of the armsmen who saw my assassin killed,"

he said. "I was wondering if I could impose on you to find some servant

from Danat's household with whom I might speak later this evening. I

have a few questions about him ..

DANAT MACIII ARRIVED LIKE. A HERO. THE STREETS WERE FILLET) WITH people

cheering and singing. Festivals filled the squares. Young girls danced

through the streets in lines, garlands of summer blossoms in their hair.

And from his litter strewn with woven gold and silver, Danat Machi

looked out like a protective father indulging a well-loved child. Idaan

had been present when the word came that Danat Machi waited at the

bridge for his father's permission to enter the city. She had gone down

behind the runner to watch the doors fly open and the celebration that

had been building spill out into the dark stone streets. They would have

sting as loud for Kaiin, if Danat had been dead.

While Danat's caravan slogged its way through the crowds, Idaan

retreated to the palaces. The panoply of the utkhaiem was hardly more

restrained than the common folk. Members of all the high families

appeared as if by chance outside the Third Palace's great hall.

Musicians and singers entertained with beautiful ballads of great

warriors returning home from the field, of time and life renewed in a

new generation. They were songs of the proper function of the world. It

was as if no one had known Biitrah or Kaiin, as if the wheel of the

world were not greased with her family's blood. Idaan watched with a

calm, pleasant expression while her soul twisted with disgust.

When Danat reached the long, broad yard and stepped down from his

litter, a cheer went up from all those present; even from her. Danat

raised his arms and smiled to them all, beaming like a child on Candles

Night. His gaze found her, and he strode through the crowd to her side.

Idaan raised her chin and took a pose of greeting. It was what she was

expected to do. He ignored it and picked her up in a great hug, swinging

her around as if she weighed nothing, and then placed her back on her

own feet.

"Sister," he said, smiling into her eyes. "I can't say how glad I am to

see you.

"Danat-kya," she said, and then failed.

"How are things with our father?"

The sorrow that was called for here was at least easier than the feigned

delight. She saw it echoed in Danat's eyes. So close to him, she could

see the angry red in the whites of his eyes, the pallor in his skin. He

was wearing paint, she realized. Rouge on his cheeks and lips and some

warm-toned powder to lend his skin the glow of health. Beneath it, he

was sallow. She wondered if he'd grown sick, and whether there was some

slow poison that might be blamed for his death.

"He has been looking forward to seeing you," she said.

"Yes. Yes, of course. And I hear that you're to become a Vaunyogi. I'm

pleased for you. Adrah's a good man."

"I love him," she said, surprised to find that in some dim way it was

still truth. "But how are you, brother? Are you ... are things well with

you?"

For a moment, Danat seemed about to answer. She thought she saw

something weaken in him, his mouth losing its smile, his eyes looking

into a darkness like the one she carried. In the end, he shook himself

and kissed her forehead, then turned again to the crowd and made his way

to the Khai's palace, greeting and rejoicing with everyone who crossed

his path. And it was only the beginning. Danat and their father would be

closeted away for a time, then the ritual welcome from the heads of the

families of the utkhaicm. And then festivities and celebrations, feasts

and dances and revelry in the streets and palaces and teahouses.

Idaan made her way to the compound of the Vaunyogi, and to Adrah and his

father. The house servants greeted her with smiles and poses of welcome.

The chief overseer led her to a small meeting room in the hack. If it

seemed odd that this room-windowless and dark-was used now in the summer

when most gatherings were in gardens or open pavilions, the overseer

made no note of it. Nothing could have been more different from the mood

in the city than the one here; like a winter night that had crept into

summer.

"Has House Vaunyogi forgotten where it put its candles?" she asked, and

turned to the overseer. "Find a lantern or two. These fine men may be

suffering from their drink, but I've hardly begun to celebrate."

The overseer took a pose that acknowledged the command and scampered

off, returning immediately with his gathered light. Adrah and his father

sat at a long stone table. Dark tapestries hung from the wall, red and

orange and gold. When the doors were safely closed behind them, Idaan

pulled out one of the stools and sat on it. tier gaze moved from the

father's face to the son's. She took a pose of query.

"You seem distressed," she said. "The whole city is loud with my

brother's glory, and you two are skulking in here like criminals."

"We have reason to be distressed," Daaya Vaunyogi said. She wondered

whether Adrah would age into the same loose jowls and watery eyes. "I've

finally reached the Galts. They've cooled. Killing Oshai's made them

nervous, and now with Danat back ... we expected to have the fighting

between your brothers to cover our ... our work. There's no hope of that

now. And that poet hasn't stopped hunting around, even with the holes

Oshai poked in him."

""The more reason you have to be distressed," Idaan said, "the more

important that you should not seem it. Besides, I still have two living

brothers."

"Ah, and you have some way to make Danat die at Otah's hand?" the old

man said. There was mockery in his voice, but there was also hope. And

fear. He had seen what she had done, and perhaps now he thought her

capable of anything. She supposed that would be something worthy of his

hope and fear.

"I don't have the details. But, yes. The longer we wait, the more

suspicious it will look when Danat and the poet die."

"You still want Maati Vaupathai dead?" Daaya asked.

"Otah is locked away, and the poet's digging. Maati Vaupathai isn't

satisfied to blame the upstart for everything, even if the whole city

besides him is. There are three breathing men between Adrah and my

father's chair. Danat, Otah, and the poet. I'll need armsmen, though, to

do what I intend. How many could you put together? They would have to he

men you trust."

Daaya looked at his son, as if expecting to find some answer there, but

Adrah neither spoke nor moved. He might very nearly not have been there

at all. Idaan swallowed her impatience and leaned forward, her palms

spread on the cool stone of the table. One of the candles sputtered and

spat.

"I know a man. A mercenary lord. He's done work for me before and kept

quiet," Daaya said at last. He didn't seem certain.

"We'll free the upstart and slit the poet's throat," Idaan said. "There

won't be any question who's actually done the thing. No sane person

would doubt that it was Otah's hand. And when Danat rides out to find

him, our men will be ready to ride with him. That will be the dangerous

part. You'll have to find a way to get him apart from anyone else who goes.

"And the upstart?" Daaya asked.

"He'll go where we tell him to go. We'll just have saved him, after all.

't'here will be no reason to think we mean him harm. They'll all be dead

in time for the wedding, and if we do it well, the joy that is our

bonding will put us as the clear favorites to take the chair. That

should be enough to push the Galts into action. Adrah will be Khai

before the harvest."

Idaan leaned hack, smiling in grim satisfaction. It was Adrah who broke

the silence, his voice calm and sure and unlike him.

"It won't work."

Idaan began to take a pose of challenge, but she hesitated when she saw

his eyes. Adrah had gone cold as winter. It wasn't fear that drove him,

whatever his father's weakness. There was something else in him, and

Idaan felt a stirring of unease.

"I can't sec why not," Idaan said, her voice still strong and sure.

"Killing the poet and freeing Otah would be simple enough to manage. But

the other. No. It supposes that Danat would lead the hunt himself. He

wouldn't. And if he doesn't, the whole thing falls apart. It won't work."

"I say that he would," Idaan said.

"And I say that your history planning these schemes isn't one that

inspires confidence," Adrah said and stood. The candlelight caught his

face at an angle, casting shadows across his eyes. Idaan rose, feeling

the blood rushing into her face.

"I was the one who saved us when Oshai fell," she said. "You two were

mewling like kittens, and crying despair-"

"That's enough," Adrah said.

"I don't recall you being in a position to order me when to speak and

when to he silent."

Daaya coughed, looking from one to the other of them like a lamb caught

between wolf and lion. The smile that touched Adrah's mouth was thin and

unamused.

"Idaan-kya," Adrah said, "I am to be your husband and the Khai of this

city. Sit with that. Your plan to free Oshai failed. Do you understand

that? It failed. It lost us the support of our hackers, it killed the

man most effective in carrying out these unfortunate duties we've taken

on, and it exposed me and my father to risk. You failed before, and this

scheme you've put before us now would also fail if we did as you propose.

Adrah began to pace slowly, one hand brushing the hanging tapestries.

Idaan shook her head, remembering some epic she'd seen when she was

young. A performer in the role of Black Chaos had moved as Adrah moved

now. Idaan felt her heart grow tight.

"It isn't that it's without merit-the shape of it generally is useful,

but the specifics are wrong. If Danat is to grab what men he can find

and rush out into the night, it can't be because he's off to avenge a