She haunted the Second Palace now, breathing in the emptiness that her
eldest brother had left. The vaulted arches of stone and wood echoed her
soft footsteps, and the sunlight that filtered though the stone shutters
thickened the air to a golden twilight. Here was the bedchamber, bare
even of the mattress he and his wife had slept upon. There, the workshop
where he had labored on his enthusiasms, keeping engineers by his side
sometimes late into the night or on into morning. The tables were empty
now. Dust lay thick on them, ignored even by the servants until the time
came for some new child of the Khaiem to take residence ... to live in
this opulence and keep his ear pricked for the sound of his brother's
hunting dogs.
She heard Adrah coming long before he stepped into the room. She
recognized his gait by the sound of it, and didn't call. He was clever,
she thought bitterly; if he wanted to find her, he could puzzle it out.
Adrah Vaunyogi, bright-eyed and broad-shouldered, father of her children
if all went well. Whatever well meant anymore.
"There you are," Adrah said. She could see his anger in the way he held
his body.
"What have I done this time?" she demanded, her tone carrying a sarcasm
that dismissed his concerns even before he spoke them. "Did your patrons
want me to wear red on a day I chose yellow?"
The mention of his hackers, even as obliquely as that, made him stiffen
and peer around, looking for slaves or servants who might overhear.
Idaan laughed-a cruel, short sound.
"You look like a kitten with a bell on its tail," she said. "There's no
one here but us. You needn't worry that someone will roll the rock off
our little conspiracy. We're as safe here as anywhere."
Adrah strode over and crouched beside her all the same. He smelled of
crushed violets and sage, and it struck Idaan that it had not been so
long ago that the scent would have warmed her heart and brought a flush
to her cheeks. His face was long and pretty-almost too pretty to be a
man's. She had kissed those lips a thousand times, but now it seemed
like the act of another woman-some entirely different Idaan Machi whose
body and memory she had inherited when the first girl died. She smiled
and raised her hands in a pose of formal query.
"Arc you mad?" Adrah demanded. "Don't speak about them. Not ever. If
we're found out ..."
"Yes. You're right. I'm sorry," Idaan said. "I wasn't thinking."
""There are rumors you spent a day with Cchmai and the andat. You were
seen.
"The rumors are true, and I meant to be seen. I can't see how my having
a close relationship to the poet would hurt the cause, and in fact I
think it will help, don't you? When the time comes that half the houses
of the utkhaiem arc vying for my father's chair, an upstart house like
yours would do well to boast a friendship with Cehmai."
"I think being married to a daughter of the Khai will be quite enough,
thank you," Adrah said, "and your brothers aren't dead yet, in case
you'd forgotten."
"No. I remember."
"I don't want you acting strangely. Things are too delicate just now for
you to start attracting attention. You are my lover, and if you are off
half the time drinking rice wine with the poet, people won't be saying
that I have strong friendship with him. They'll be saying that he's
cuckolding me, and that Vaunyogi is the wrong house to draw a new Khai
from."
"So you don't want me seeing him, or you just want more discretion when
I do?" Idaan asked.
That stopped him. His eyes, deep brown with flecks of red and green,
peered into hers. A sudden memory, powerful as illness, swept over her
of a winter night when they had met in the tunnels. He had gazed at her
then by firelight, had been no further from her than he was now. She
wondered how these could be those same eyes. Her hand rose as if by
itself and stroked his cheek. He folded his hands around hers.
"I'm sorry," she said, ashamed of the catch in her voice. "I don't want
to quarrel with you."
"What are you doing, little one?" he asked. "Don't you see how dangerous
this is that we're doing? Everything rests on it."
"I know. I remember the stories. It's strange, don't you think, that my
brothers can slaughter each other and all the people do is applaud, but
if I take a hand, it's a crime worse than anything."
"You're a woman," he said, as if that explained everything.
"And you," she said calmly, almost lovingly, "are a schemer and an agent
of the Galts. So perhaps we deserve each other."
She felt him stiffen and then force the tension away. His smile was
crooked. She felt something warm in her breast-painful and sad and warm
as the first sip of rum on a midwinter night. She wondered if it might
be hatred, and if it were, whether it was for herself or this man before
her.
"It's going to be fine," he said.
"I know," she said. "I knew it would be hard. It's the ways it's hard
that surprise me. I don't know how I should act or who I should be. I
don't know where the normal grief that anyone would feel stops or turns
into something else." She shook her head. "This seemed simpler when we
were only talking about it."
"I know, love. It will be simple again, I promise you. It's only this in
the middle that feels complicated."
"I don't know how they do it," she said. "I don't know how they kill one
another. I dream about him, you know. I dream that I am walking through
the gardens or the palaces and I see him in among a crowd of people."
Tears came to her eyes unbidden, flowing warm and thick down her cheeks,
but her voice, when she continued, was steady and calm as a woman
predicting the weather. "He's always happy in the dreams. He's always
forgiven me."
"I'm sorry," he said. "I know you loved him."
Idaan nodded, but didn't speak.
"Be strong, love. It will be over soon. It will all be finished very soon.
She wiped the tears away with the hack of her hand, her knuckles
darkened where her paints were running, and pulled him close. He seemed
to hold back for a moment, then folded against her, his arms around her
trembling shoulders. He was warm and the smell of sage and violet was
mixed now with his skin-the particular musk of his body that she had
treasured once above all other scents. He murmured small comforts into
her ears and stroked her hair as she wept.
"Is it too late?" she asked. "Can we stop it, Adrah? Can we take it all