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"No," Utah said.

"I'm sorry."

"It was entirely my fault."

"If it's true, you're a wise man to know it, and if not, you're a good

man for saying it. Either way."

"I think it would he ... that is, if there are any letters to be

carried, I think travel might be the best thing just now. I don't really

care to stay in Udun."

Amiit sighed and nodded.

"Tomorrow," he said. "Come to my offices in the morning. We'll arrange

something."

Afterwards, they finished the rice wine and talked of nothing

important-of old stories and old travels, the women they had known and

loved or else hated. Or both. Otah said nothing of Kiyan or the north,

and Amiit didn't press him. When Otah rose to leave, he was surprised to

find how drunk he had become. He navigated his way to his room and lay

on the couch, mustering the resolve to pull off his robes. Morning found

him still dressed. He changed robes and went down to the bathhouse,

forcing his mind back over his conversations of the night before. He was

fairly certain he had said nothing to implicate himself or make Amiit

suspect the nature of his falling out with Kiyan. He wondered what the

old man would have made of the truth, had he known it.

The packet of letters waited for him, each sewn and sealed, in a leather

bag on Amiit Foss' desk. Most were for trading houses in Machi, though

there were four that were to go to members of the utkhaiem. Otah turned

the packet in his hands. Behind him, one of the apprentices said

something softly and another giggled.

"You have time to reconsider," Amiit said. "You could go back to her on

your knees. If the letters wait another day, there's little lost. And

she might relent."

Otah tucked the letters into their pouch and slipped it into his sleeve.

"An old lover of mine once told me that everything I'd ever won, I won

by leaving," Otah said.

"The island girl?"

"Did I mention her last night?"

"At length," Amiit said, chuckling. "That particular quotation came up

twice, as I recall. There might have been a third time too. I couldn't

really say."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I hope I didn't tell you all my secrets," Otah

said, making a joke of his sudden unease. He didn't recall saying

anything about Maj, and it occurred to him exactly how dangerous that

night had been.

"If you had, I'd make it a point to forget them," Amiit said. "Nothing a

drunk man says on the day his woman leaves him should be held against

him. It's poor form. And this is, after all, a gentleman's trade, ne?"

Otah took a pose of agreement.

"I'll report what I find when I get back," he said, unnecessarily.

"Assuming I haven't frozen to death on the roads."

"Be careful up there, Itani. Things are uncertain when there's the scent

of a new Khai in the wind. It's interesting, and it's important, but

it's not always safe."

Otah shifted to a pose of thanks, to which his supervisor replied in

kind, his face so pleasantly unreadable that Otah genuinely didn't know

how deep the warning ran.

When Maati considered the mines-something he had rarely had occasion to

do-he had pictured great holes going deep into the earth. He had not

imagined the branchings and contortions of passages where miners

struggled to follow veins of ore, the stench of dust and damp, the yelps

and howls of the dogs that pulled the flatbottomed sledges filled with

gravel, or the darkness. He held his lantern low, as did the others

around him. 't'here was no call to raise it. Nothing more would be seen,

and the prospect of breaking it against the stone overhead was unpleasant.

""There can be places where the air goes bad, too," Cehmai said as they

turned another twisting corner. "They take birds with them because they

die first."

"What happens then?" Maati asked. "If the birds die?"

"It depends on how valuable the ore is," the young poet said. "Abandon

the mine, or try to blow out the had air. Or use slaves. There are men

whose indentures allow that."

Two servants followed at a distance, their own torches glowing. Maati

had the sense that they would all, himself included, have been better

pleased to spend the day in the palaces. All but the andat.

StoneMade-Soft alone among them seemed untroubled by the weight over

them and the gloom that pressed in when the lanterns flickered. The

wide, calm face seemed almost stupid to Maati, the andat's occasional

pronouncements simplistic compared with the thousand-layered comments of

Seedless, the only andat he'd known intimately. He knew better than to

be taken in. 'The form of the andat might be different, the mental

bindings that held it might place different strictures upon it, but the

hunger at its center was as desperate. It was an andat, and it would

long to return to its natural state. They might seem as different as a

marble from a thorn, but at heart they were all the same.

And Maati knew he was walking through a tunnel not so tall he could

stand to his full height with a thousand tons of stone above him. This

placid-faced ghost could bring it down on him as if they'd been crawling

through a hole in the ocean.

"So, you see," Cehmai was saying, "the Daikani engineers find where they

want to extend the mine out. Or down, or up. We have to leave that to

them. Then I will come through and walk through the survey with them, so

that we all understand what they're asking."

"And how much do you soften it?"

"It varies," Cehmai said. "It depends on the kind of rock. Some of them

you can almost reduce to putty if you're truly clear where you want it

to be. Then other times, you only want it to be easier to dig through.

Most often, that's when they're concerned about collapses."

"I see," Maati said. "And the pumps? How do those figure in?"

"That was actually an entirely different agreement. The Khai's eldest

son was interested in the problem. The mines here are some of the lowest

that are still in use. The northern mines are almost all in the

mountains, and so they aren't as likely to strike water."

"So the Daikani pay more for being here?"

"No, not really. The pumps he designed usually work quite well."

"But the payment for them?"

Cehmai grinned. His teeth and skin were yellowed by the lantern light.

"It was a different agreement," Cehmai said again. "The Daikani let him

experiment with his designs and he let them use them."

"But if they worked well ..."

"Other mines would pay the Khai for the use of the pumps if they wished

for help building them. Usually, though, the mines will help each other

on things like that. There's a certain . . . what to call it ...