"Sit down, Maati-cha," the Dal-kvo said, gesturing to a chair. "Have a
bowl of tea. There's something we have to discuss. Tell me what you've
heard of events in the winter cities."
Maati sat and spoke while the Dai-kvo poured the tea.
"I only know what I hear at the teahouses and around the kilns, most
high. There's trouble with the glassblowers in Cetani; something about
the Khai Cetani raising taxes on exporting fishing bulbs. But I haven't
heard anyone taking it very seriously. Amnat-Tan is holding a summer
fair, hoping, they say, to take trade from Yalakeht. And the Khai Machi ..."
Maati stopped. He realized now why the two strangers seemed familiar;
who they reminded him of. The Dai-kvo pushed a fine ceramic bowl across
the smooth-sanded grain of the table. Maati fell into a pose of thanks
without being aware of it, but did not take the bowl.
"The Khai Machi is dying," the Dal-kvo said. "I Iis belly's gone rotten.
It's a sad thing. Not a good end. And his eldest son is murdered.
Poisoned. What do the teahouses and kilns say of that?"
"That it was poor form," Maati said. "'t'hat no one has seen the Khaiem
resort to poison since Udun, thirteen summers ago. But neither of the
brothers has appeared to accuse the other, so no one ... Gods! You two
are ..."
"You see?" the Dai-kvo said to the thin man, smiling as he spoke. "No,
not much to look at, but a decent stew between his ears. Yes, Maati-cha.
The man scraping my windowsill with his boots there is Danat Machi. This
is his eldest surviving brother, Kaiin. And they have come here to speak
with me instead of waging war against each other because neither of them
killed their elder brother Biitrah."
"So they ... you think it was Otah-kvo?"
"The Dai-kvo says you know my younger brother," the thickset
man-Danat-said, taking his own seat at the only unoccupied side of the
table. "Tell me what you know of Otah."
"I haven't seen him in years, Danat-cha," Maati said. "He was in
Saraykcht when ... when the old poet there died. He was working as a
laborer. But I haven't seen him since."
"Do you think he was satisfied by that life?" the thin one-Kaiin- asked.
"A laborer at the docks of Saraykeht hardly seems like the fate a son of
the Khaiem would embrace. Especially one who refused the brand."
Maati picked up the bowl of tea, sipping it too quickly as he tried to
gain himself a moment to think. The tea scalded his tongue.
"I never heard Otah speak of any ambitions for his father's chair,"
Maati said.
"And is there any reason to think he would have spoken of it to you?"
Kaiin said, the faintest sneer in his voice. Maati felt the blush
creeping into his cheeks again, but it was the Dai-kvo who answered.
""There is. Otah Machi and Maati here were close for a time. They fell
out eventually over a woman, I believe. Still, I hold that if Otah had
been bent on taking part in the struggle for Machi at that time, he
would have taken Maati into his confidence. But that is hardly our
concern. As Maati here points out, it was years ago. Otah may have
become ambitious. Or resentful. There's no way for us to know that-"
"But he refused the brand-" Danat began, and the Dai-kvo cut him off
with a gesture.
"There were other reasons for that," the Dai-kvo said sharply. "They
aren't your concern."
Danat Nlachi took a pose of apology and the Dai-kvo waved it away. Maati
sipped his tea again. 't'his time it didn't burn. To his right, Kaiin
Machi took a pose of query, looking directly at Maati for what seemed
the first time.
"Would you know him again if you saw him?"
"Yes," Maati said. "I would."
"You sound certain of it."
"I am, Kaiin-cha."
The thin man smiled. All around the table a sense of satisfaction seemed
to come from his answer. Maati found it unnerving. The Daikvo poured
himself more tea, the liquid clicking into his bowl like a stream over
stones.
"'T'here is a very good library in Machi," the Dai-kvo said. "One of the
finest in the fourteen cities. I understand there are records there from
the time of the Empire. One of the high lords was thinking to go there,
perhaps, to ride out the war, and sent his hooks ahead. I'm sure there
are treasures hidden among those shelves that would be of use in binding
the andat."
"Really?" Maati asked.
"No, not really," the Dai-kvo said. "I expect it's a mess of poorly
documented scraps overseen by a librarian who spends his copper on wine
and whores, but I don't care. For our purposes, there are secrets hidden
in those records important enough to send a low-ranking poet like
yourself to sift though. I have a letter to the Khai Machi that will
explain why you are truly there. IIc will explain your presence to the
utkhaiem and Cehmai 'Ivan, the poet who holds Stone-Made-Soft. Let them
think you've come on my errand. What you will be doing instead is
discovering whether Otah killed Biitrah Machi. If so, who is hacking
him. If not, who did, and why."
"Most high-" Maati began.
"Wait for me in the gardens," the Dal-kvo said. "I have a few more
things to discuss with the sons of Machi."
The gardens, like the apartments, were small, well kept, beautiful, and
simple. A fountain murmured among carefully shaped, deeply fragrant pine
trees. Maati sat, looking out. From the side of mountain, the world
spread out before him like a map. He waited, his head buzzing, his heart
in turmoil. Before long he heard the steady grinding sound of footsteps
on gravel, and he turned to see the Dai-kvo making his way down the path
toward him. Maati stood. He had not known the Dai-kvo had started
walking with a cane. A servant followed at a distance, carrying a chair,
and did not approach until the Dai-kvo signaled. Once the chair was in
place, looking out over the same span that Maati had been considering,
the servant retreated.
"Interesting, isn't it?" the Dai-kvo said.
Maati, unsure whether he meant the view or the business with the sons of
Machi, didn't reply. The Dai-kvo looked at him, something part smile,
part something less congenial on his lips. He drew forth two
packets-letters sealed in wax and sewn shut. Maati took them and tucked
them in his sleeve.
"Gods. I'm getting old. You see that tree?" the Dai-kvo asked, pointing
at one of the shaped pines with his cane.