before, and I'm alone in fearing what will come after. We
won't survive, love. The Khaiem and the Galts both are
sinking, and we're so short-sighted and mean of spirit we're
willing to die if it means the other bastard goes down too.
I don't mean Ana or Danat. They're only young and brave and
stupid the way young, brave people are. I mean herfather.
FarrerDasin is happy to see this fail. I imagine there are a
./air number in my court who feel the same way.
There are too sides to this, love. But they aren't the two
sides we think of-not the Khaiem and the Galts. It's the
people in love with the past and the ones who./car./or the
future. And, though the gods alone know how I'm going to do
it, I have to win Danat and Ana over from the one camp to
the other.
Otah paused, something shifting in the back of his mind. It felt the way
it had when Kiyan was alive and speaking to him from the next room, her
voice too low to make out the words. He put down the pen and closed his
eyes.
Win Ana over. He had to win Ana over.
"Oh," he said.
"ISSANDRA-CHA. THANK YOU FOR COMING. YOU KNOW MY SON, I THINK," OTAH said.
The sun touched the hills to the west of Saraykeht. Ruddy air rich with
the scent of evening roses came through the unshuttered windows. A small
meal of cheese and dried apple and plum wine waited for their pleasure
on a low lacquered table. Issandra Dasin rose from her divan to greet
Danat as he came forward.
"Issandra-cha," Danat said and returned her welcome.
"Danat needs your help," Otah said. Danat glanced over at him, surprise
in his gaze. "You see, your daughter has convinced him that it would be
wrong to marry an unwilling woman. I can argue it to be the lesser evil,
but if we two work together, I think the issue might be avoided altogether."
Issandra returned to her seat, sighing. She looked older than when Otah
had first met her.
"It won't be simple," Issandra said.
"What won't be simple?" Danat asked.
"Wooing my daughter," Issandra said. "What did you think we were talking
about?"
Otah took a bit of dried apple in his mouth while Danat blinked. Words
stumbled over the boy's tongue without finding a sentence.
"You won't have a different girl for fear she'll hate you and lie about
it," Otah said in the tone of a man explaining the solution of a simple
mechanical problem. "Ana, we are all quite aware, isn't going to hide
her feelings on the matter. So if she chooses you, you can believe her.
Yes?"
"We have a small advantage in that her present lover is something of a
cow," Issandra said. "I suspect that, had the circumstances been
otherwise, she would already have grown tired of him. But he's a point
of pride now" She fixed Danat with her eyes. "You have a hard road
before you, son.
"You want me to seduce your daughter?" Danat asked, his voice breaking
slightly at seduce.
"Yes," Issandra said.
Danat sank to a cushion. His face flushed almost the color of sunset.
"I thought he might deliver an apology," Otah said. "It would give him a
reason to speak with Ana-cha in private, separate him from the political
aspect of the arrangement, and place him in her camp."
"Apologize for what?" Danat said.
"Well, for me," Otah said. "Express your shame that I would treat her so
poorly."
"She'll smell that in a heartbeat," Issandra said. "And if you begin by
giving her the upper hand, you'll never have it back. Ask an apology
from her. Respect her objections, but tell her she was wrong in humiliat
ing you. You are as much a pawn in this as she is. And do you have a lover?"
"I ... I was..."
"Well, find one," Issandra said. "Preferably someone prettier than my
daughter. You needn't look shocked, my boy. I've lived my life in court.
While you poor dears are out swinging knives at each other, there are
wars just as bloody at every grand ball."
A scratching came at the door, followed by a servant woman. She took a
pose of abject apology.
"Most High, there's a courier for you."
"It can wait," Otah said. "Or if it can't, send for Sinja-cha."
"The courier's come from Chaburi-Tan," the servant said. "The letter is
sealed and signed for you alone. He says the issue is urgent."
Otah cursed under his breath, but he rose. As he stepped out to the
antechamber, he heard Danat and Issandra resume the conversation without
him. The antechamber felt as close as a grave, heavy tapestries killing
any sound from within the greater meeting room. The courier was a young
man, hardly more than Danat's age. Otah saw the calm, professional eyes
sum him up. If the boy had been longer in the gentleman's trade, Otah
would never have noticed it. He accepted the letter and ripped it open
there, not waiting for a blade to cut the silk-sewn edging.
The cipher was familiar to him, but it made for slower reading than
plain text. It was from the Kajiit Miyan, servant to the Emperor Otah
Machi who had founded the Third Empire. Otah skipped down past the
honorifics and empty form, decoding words and phrases in his mind until
he reached something of actual importance. Then he read more slowly. And
then he went back and read it again.
The mercenaries hired to protect Chaburi-Tan were ending their contract
and leaving. Within a month, the city would be reduced to its citizen
militia. The pirates who had been harrying the city would find them only
token resistance. Their options, his agent said, were to surrender and
pray for mercy or else flee the city. There would be no defense.
Otah took the servant girl by the elbow.
"Find Balasar. And Sinja. Bring them . . ." Otah looked over his
shoulder. "Bring them to the winter garden of the second palace. Do it
now. You. Courier. You'll wait until I have word to take back."
The twilight world lost its color like a face going pale. Otah paced the
lush green and blossomless garden, wrenching his mind from one crisis to
the next. A different servant led Balasar into the space between the
willows.
"Find us some light," Otah said. "And Sinja-cha. Get Sinja-cha."
The servant, caught between two needs, hesitated, then hurried off. Otah
led Balasar to a low stone bench. The general wore a lighter jacket,
silk over cotton. His breath smelled of wine, but he gave no sign of
being drunk. Otah looked out at the gray sky, the dark, looming palaces
with windows glimmering like stars and cursed Sinja for his absence.
"Balasar-cha, I need you. The Galtic fleet has to travel to ChaburiTan,"
Otah said.
He outlined the letter he'd had, the history of increasing raids and