THE (tlpq-4) (23 page)

sluicing over bronze. The tea, set on a lacquered tray, had preceded him

as if the servants had anticipated that he would ask for it as well and

had had it ready.

Otah gathered himself. He was almost certain that Danat had already had

his second meeting with the girl. Hanchat Dor, Danat's rival, was set to

be freed in the morning. Otah found himself curious to see who Ana Dasin

was in these circumstances.

"Ana," he said in her language. "I had not expected your company."

The girl stood. The soft light made her face rounder than it was, her

eyes darker. She was wearing a dress of Galtic cut with pearls

embroidered down the sleeves. Her hair, which had been pulled back into

a severe formality, was escaping. Locks hung at the side of her face

like silken banners draped from towers' windows.

"Emperor Machi. I have to thank you for seeing me so late," she said.

Her voice was hard, but not accusatory. Otah caught the faint scent of

distilled wine. The girl was fortified with drink, but not yet dulled by it.

"I am an old man," Otah said as he poured pale tea into two porcelain

bowls. "I need less sleep than I once did. Here, take one."

His little act of kindness seemed to make her stiffer and less pleased,

but she accepted the bowl. Otah sat, blowing across the tea's steaming

surface.

"I've come ..."

He waited.

"I've come to apologize," she said. She spoke the words as if she were

vomiting.

Otah sipped his tea. It was perfectly brewed, the leaves infusing the

water with a taste like summer sun and cut grass. It made the moment

even more pleasant, and he wondered if he was being unkind by taking

pleasure in Ana's predicament.

"May I ask what precisely you wish to apologize for," Otah said. "I

would hate to have any further misunderstandings between us."

Ana sat, putting the bowl on the bench at her side. The porcelain

clicked against the stone.

"I presented myself poorly," she said. "I ... set out to humiliate you

and Danat. That was uncalled for. I could have made my feelings known in

private."

"I see," Otah said. "And is that all?"

"I would like to thank you for the mercy you've shown to Hanchat."

"It's Danat you should thank for that," Otah said. "I only respected his

wishes."

"Not every parent respects her child," Ana said, then looked away, lips

pressed thin. Her child, meaning Issandra. Ana was right. The mother was

indeed scheming against her own daughter, and Otah had made himself a

party to the plot. He would not have done it to his own child. He took

another sip of his tea. It wasn't quite as pleasant as the first.

The fountain muttered to itself, the wind sighed. Here was the moment

that chance had given him, and he wasn't sure how to use it. Ana, on

whom all his plans rested, had come to him. There was something here,

some word or phrase, some thought, that would narrow the distance

between them. And in the space of a few more breaths, she would have

collected herself again and gone.

"I should apologize to you as well," Otah said. "I forget sometimes that

my view on the world isn't the only one. Or even the only correct one. I

doubt you would have been driven to humiliate me if I hadn't done the

same to you."

Her gaze shifted back to him. Whatever she had expected of him, it

hadn't been this.

"I went to the wives of the councillors. There was very little time, and

I thought they would have greater sway than the children. Perhaps they

did. But I traded you as a trinket and didn't even think to ask you your

thoughts and feelings. That should have been beneath me."

"I'm a woman," Ana said, her tone managing to be both dismissive and a

challenge. I'm a woman, and we've always been traded, married off

shifted as the tokens of power and alliance. Otah smiled, surprised to

find himself possessed by genuine sorrow.

"Yes," he said. "You are. And with my sister, my wife, my daughter ...

of all the men in the world, I should have known what that meant, and I

forgot. I was in such a hurry to fix all the things I've done poorly

that I did this poorly too."

She was frowning at him again as she had once before, on the journey to

Saraykeht. He might have begun speaking in the language of birds or

belching stones, to judge by her expression. He chuckled.

"It was not my intention to treat you with disrespect, Ana-cha. That I

did so shames me. I accept your apology, and I hope that you will accept

mine.

"I won't marry him," she said.

Otah drank the rest of his tea and set the empty bowl mouth-down on the

lacquer tray.

"My son, you mean," Otah said. "You'll stay with this other man.

Hanchat? No matter what the price or who's called on to pay it, no man

deserves even your consideration? If it destroys your country and mine

both, it would still be just."

"I ... I don't ..." the girl said. "That isn't. .

"I know. I understand. I'll say this. Danat is a good man. Better than I

was at his age. But what you choose is entirely yours," Otah said. "If

we've established anything, you and I, it's that."

"Not his?"

"Danat's decision is whether he'll marry you," Otah said with a smile.

"Not the same thing at all."

He meant to leave her there. It seemed the right moment, and there was

nothing more he could think to say. As he bent forward, preparing to

rise, Ana spoke again.

"Your wife was a wayhouse keeper. You didn't put her aside. You never

took a second wife. It was an insult to the whole body of the utkhaiem."

"It was," Otah said and stood with a grunt. There had been a time he

could sit or stand in silence. "But I didn't marry her for the effect it

had on other people. I did it because she was Kiyan, and there wasn't

anyone else like her in the world."

"How can you ask Danat to obey tradition when you've broken it?" she

demanded.

Otah considered her. She seemed angry again, but it seemed as much on

Danat's behalf as her own.

"By asking," Otah said. "It's the best I can manage. I've damaged the

world badly. The reasons I had for doing it seemed good at the time. I

would like to be part of putting it back together again. With his help.

With yours."

"I didn't break all this," Ana said, her chin stubborn. "Danat didn't

either, for that matter. It's not fair that we should have to sacrifice

whatever we want to unmake your mistakes."

"It isn't. But I can't repair this."

"Why do you think I can?"

"I have some faith in you both," he said.

By the time he made his way back to his rooms, Idaan had departed,

leaving only a brief note saying that she intended to return in the

morning and had some questions for him. Otah sat on a low couch by the

fire grate, his eyes focused on nothing. He wondered what Eiah would

have made of his conversation with the Galtic girl, and of whom he was

truly asking forgiveness. His mind wandered, and he did not realize he

had lain back until he woke to the cool light of dawn.

He was sitting in his private bath, the hot water easing the knots that

sleeping away from his bed had tied in his back, when the servant

announced Sinja's arrival. Otah considered the effort that rising,

drying himself, and being dressed would require and had the man brought

to him. Sinja, dressed in the simple canvas and leather of a soldier,

looked more like a mercenary captain than the nearest advisor to an

emperor. He squatted at the edge of the bath, looking down at Otah. The

servant poured tea for the newcomer, took a ritual pose appropriate to a

withdrawal from which he would have to be specifically summoned to

return, and left. The door slid closed behind him, the waxed wooden

runners as silent as breath.

"What's happened?" Otah asked, dreading the answer.

"I was going to ask the same thing. You spoke to Ana Dasin last night?"

"I did," Otah said.

Sinja sipped his tea before he spoke again.

"Well, I don't know what you said to her, but this morning, I had a

runner from Farrer Dasin offering his ships and his men for Balasar's

fleet. The general's meeting with him now to arrange the details."

Otah sat forward, the water swirling around him.

"Farrer-cha ..."

Sinja put down the bowl of tea.

"The man himself. Not Issandra, not one of his servants. The handwriting

was his own. There weren't details, only the offer. And since he's been

reticent and dismissive every time Balasar asked, it seemed that

something had changed. If it's what it looks like, it will mean putting

off departure for a few days, but when we get there, it will be a real

fighting force."

"That's. . ." Otah began. "I don't know how that happened."

"I've been swimming through palace gossip ever since, trying to find

what made the change, and the only thing half-plausible I've heard is

that Ana Dasin met with Danat-cha, after which she went to a secondrate

teahouse, drank more than was considered healthy, and came here. After

talking with you, she went back to the old poet's house; the lanterns

were all lit and they didn't stop burning until the sun rose."

"We didn't talk about the fleet," Otah said. "The subject never came up.

Sinja unstrung his sandals and slid his feet into the warm water of the

bath.

"Why don't you tell me what was said," Sinja asked. "Because somehow, in

the middle of it, you seem to have done something right."

Otah recounted the meeting, rising from his bath and drying himself as

he did. Sinja listened for the most part, interrupting only to laugh

when Otah told of apologizing to the girl.

"That likely had as much to do with it as anything," Sinja said. "A high

councillor's daughter with the Emperor of the Khaiem calling himself

down for disrespecting her. Gods, Otah-kya, with that low an opinion of

your own dignity, I don't know how you managed to hold power all these

years."

Otah paused, his hands shifting to a pose of query.

"You apologized to a Galtic girl."

"I'd treated her poorly," Otah said.

Sinja raised his hands. It wasn't a formal pose, but it carried the

sense of surrender. Whatever it was Sinja didn't understand about the

act, he clearly despaired of ever learning.

"Tell me the rest," Sinja said.

There wasn't a great deal more, but Otah told it. He pulled on his robes

by himself. The servants could adjust them when the meeting ended. Sinja

drank another bowl of tea. The water in the bath grew still and as clear

as air.

"Well," Sinja said when he had finished, "that's unexpected all around."

"You think Ana-cha interceded for us."

"I can't think anything else," Sinja said. "She's an interesting girl,

that one. Quick to anger and about as tough as boiled leather if

confronted, but I think you made her feel for you. It was clever."

"I didn't mean it as a ploy," Otah said.

"That's likely what made the ploy work," Sinja said. "Issandra and Danat

should hear more of it. You know that little conspiracy is beginning to

slip its stitches?"

"What do you mean?"

"Danat's false lover. Shija Radaani? It seems your boy is starting to

fall in love with her. Or if not love, at least bed. That was the other

gossip this morning. Shija went to Danat's rooms last night and hasn't

yet come out."

Otah tugged at the sleeves, his eyebrows trying to crawl up his

forehead. Sinja nodded.

"Perhaps it's part of Issandra's plan?" Otah said.

"If it is, she's more of a gambler than I am."

"I'll look into it," Otah said.

"Don't bother. I've already sent word to all the parties who need to know."

"Meaning Issandra."

"And nobody else," Sinja said. "You worry about finding Maati and his

poet girls. And your sister. Whatever you're doing, keep one eye toward

her."

Otah was halfway to objecting, but Sinja only tilted his head. Idaan had

killed Otah's brothers. His father. She was capable of casual slaughter,

and everyone knew it. There was no point in pretending the world was

something it wasn't. Otah took a pose that accepted the advice and