no ship hack to Saraykeht, and Liat had taken apartments for them in the
narrow, gated streets of Yalakeht for the winter.
In the long, dark hours she had struggled with what she knew, and with
the thaw and the first ships taking passages North, she had prepared to
travel to Amnat-Tan, and then Cetani. And then, though the prospect made
her sick with anxiety, Nlachi.
A shout rose on the deck above them-a score of men calling out to each
other-and the ship lurched and boomed. Nayiit blinked awake, looked over
at her, and smiled. He always had had a good smile.
"Have I missed anything?" he asked with a yawn.
"We've reached the low towns outside Amnat-Tan," Liat said. "We'll be
docked soon."
Nayiit swung his legs around, planting them on the deck to keep his
hammock from rocking. He looked ruefully around the tiny cabin and sighed.
"I'll start packing our things, then," he said.
"Pack them separate," she said. "I'll go the rest of the way myself. I
want you back in Saraykeht."
Nayiit took a pose that refused this, and Liat felt her jaw tighten.
"We've had this conversation, Mother. I'm not putting you out to walk
the North Road by yourself."
"I'll hire a seat on a caravan," she said. "Spring's just opening, and
there are hound to be any number of them going to Cetani and back. It's
not such a long journey, really."
"Good. Then it won't take too long for us to get there."
"You're going hack," Liat said.
Nayiit sighed and gathered himself visibly.
"Fine," he said. "Make your argument. Convince me."
Liat looked at her hands. It was the same problem she'd fought all
through the long winter. Each time she'd come close to speaking the
truth, something had held her hack. Secrets. It all came back to
secrets, and if she spoke her fears to Nayiit, it would mean telling him
things that only she knew, things that she had hoped might die with her.
"Is it about my father?" he said, and his voice was so gentle, Liat felt
tears gathering in her eyes.
"In a way," she said.
"I know he's at the court of Machi," Nayiit said. "There's no reason for
me to fear him, is there? Everything you've said of him-"
"No, Maati would never hurt you. Or me. It's just ... it was so long
ago. And I don't know who he's become since then."
Nayiit leaned forward, taking her hands in his.
"I want to meet him," he said. "Not because of who he was to you, or who
he is now. I want to meet him because he's my father. Ever since Tai
came, I've been thinking about it. About what it would be for me to walk
away from my boy and not come hack. About choosing something else over
my family."
"It wasn't like that," Liat said. "Maati and I were . .
"I've come this far," he said gently. "You can't send me hack now."
"You don't understand," she said.
"You can explain to me while I pack our things."
In the end, of course, he won. She had known he would. Nayiit could be
as soft and gentle and implacable as snowfall. He was his father's son.
The calls of gulls grew louder as they neared the shore, the scent of
smoke more present. The docks were narrower than the seafront of
Saraykeht. A ship that put in here for the winter had to prepare itself
to he icebound, immobile. 'T'rade was with the eastern islands and
Yalakeht; it was too far from the summer cities or Bakta or Galt for
ships to come from those distant ports.
The streets were black cobbles, and ice still haunted the alleys where
shadows held the cold. Nayiit carried their crate strapped across his
back. The wide leather belt cut into his shoulders, but he didn't
complain. He rarely complained about anything, only did what he thought
best with a pleasant smile and a calm explanation ready to hand.
Liat stopped at a firekeeper's kiln to ask directions to the compound of
House Radaani and was pleased to discover it was nearby. Mother and son,
they walked the fog-shrouded streets until they found the wide arches
that opened to the courtyard gardens of the Radaani, torches flickering
and guttering in the damp air. A boy in sodden robes rushed up and
lifted the crate from Nayiit's back to his own. Liat was about to
address him when another voice, a woman's voice lovely and low as a
singer's, came from the dim.
"Liat-cha, I must assume. I'd sent men to meet you at the docks, but I'm
afraid they came too late."
The woman who stepped out from the fog had seen no more than twenty
summers. Her robes were white snowfox, eerie in the combination of pale
mourning colors and the luxury of the fur. Her hair shone black with
cords of silver woven in the braids. She was beautiful, and likely would
be for another five summers. Liat could already see the presentiment of
jowls at the borders of her jaw.
"Ceinat Radaani," Liat said, taking a pose of gratitude. "I am pleased
to meet you in person at last. This is my son, Nayiit."
The Radaani girl adopted a welcoming pose that included them both.
Nayiit returned it, and Liat couldn't help noticing the way his eyes
lingered on her and hers on him. Liat coughed, bringing their attention
back to the moment. The girl took a pose of apology, and turned to lead
them into the chambers and corridors of the compound.
In Saraykcht, the architecture tended to he open, encouraging the
breezes to flow and cool. Northern buildings were more like great kilns,
built to hold heat in their thick stone walls. The ceilings were low and
fire grates burned in every room. The Radaani girl led them through a
wide entrance chamber and hack through a narrow corridor, speaking as
she walked.
"My father is in Council with the Khai, but sends his regards and
intends to join us as soon as he can return from the city proper. He
would very much regret missing the opportunity to meet with the head of
our trading partner in the South."
It was bald flattery. Radaani was among the richest houses in the winter
cities, and had agreements with dozens of houses, all through the cities
of the Khaiem.'I'he whole of House Kyaan would hardly have made up one
of the Radaani compounds, and there were four such compounds that Liat
knew of. Liat accepted it, though, as if it were true, as if the
hospitality extended to her were more than etiquette.
"I look forward to speaking with him," Liat said. "I am most interested
in hearing news of the winter cities."
"Oh, there'll be quite a bit to say, I'm sure," the girl laughed. "There
always is once winter's ended. I think people save up all the gossip of
the winter to haul out in spring."
She opened a pair of wide wooden doors and led them into small, cozy
apartments. A fire popped and murmured in the grate, bowls of mulled