worked in the symbols of the various houses. And then almost without a
pause, the symbols and colors were not of merchants, but of the families
of the utkhaiem, and the high walls and ornate shutters were not
mercantile compounds, but palaces. Men and women in fine robes took
poses of welcome and obeisance as servants and slaves fanned them. A
hidden choir burst into song somewhere to his left, the voices in
complex harmony. The litter stopped before the grand palace, the first
palace, the Emperor's palace. Otah stepped out, sweeping his gaze over
the ordered rows of servants and high officials until he saw the one man
he'd longed for.
Danat was in his twentieth summer, his face a mixture of Otah's long,
northern features and Kiyan's, thin and foxlike. The planes of his
cheeks had sharpened since Otah had gone. He looked older, more
handsome. He wore a robe of deep gray set off with a rich, red sash that
suited him. And still, Otah could see all the boys that had made this
man: the babe, the bumbling child new to his own feet, the long-ill boy
kept in his bed, the awkward and sorrowful youth, and the young heir to
the Empire. All of them stood before him, hands in a pose of formal
welcome, a smile glittering in his eyes. Otah broke protocol, embracing
his son. The boy's arms were strong.
"You've done well," Otah murmured.
"None of the cities actually burned down while you were gone," Danat
replied softly. There was pride in his voice, pleasure at the compliment.
"But you sound too much like Sinja."
"You knew that was a risk."
Otah laughed and let the swarm of servants precede him to his chambers.
There would be no end of ceremonies later. Welcomes would drag on for
weeks, audiences, special pleadings, feasts, dances, negotiations,
councils. It all lay before him like a life's work started late. But
now, sitting in the cool breeze of his private apartments with Sinja
across from him and Danat pouring chilled water into stone bowls, the
world was perfect.
Except, of course, that it wasn't.
"Perhaps we can mend both breaks with the same nail," Sinja said. "A
strong showing against the pirates protects Chaburi-Tan and warns Obar
State to keep to its own house."
"And a weak showing against them?" Otah asked.
"Shows we're weak, after which things go poorly," Sinja said. "But if
we're going to assume failure from the start, there's not going to be
anything of use that I can offer."
Otah propped up his feet. The palaces still felt as if they were
swaying: the ghost motion of weeks aboard ship. The feeling was oddly
pleasant.
"On the other hand," he said, "if we plan to decimate the enemy with a
flower and a pillow, it's not going to help us. How strong is our fleet?
Do we have enough men to take the pirates in a fair fight?"
"If we don't have them now, we certainly won't next year when all the
sailors are a year older," Sinja said. "Even if you magically transport
every fertile girl in Galt straight to some poor bastard's bed, it will
be ten years before they can deliver us anyone strong enough to coil
rope, much less fight. If we're going to do anything, it has to be now.
We're going to grow weaker before we're strong."
"If we manage to get strong," Otah said. "And I don't know that we can
spare the ships. We have eleven cities and the gods alone know how many
low towns. We're talking about moving half a million of our men to Galt
and bringing back as many of their women."
"Well, yes, shipping out anyone we have of fighting age now won't help
the matter," Sinja said.
"Galt could do it," Danat said. "They have experience with sea wars.
They have fighting ships and the veterans."
Otah saw the considering expression on Sinja's face. He let the silence
stretch.
"I don't like it," Sinja said at last. "I don't know why I don't like
it, but I don't."
"We're still thinking of our problems as our own," Danat said. "Asking
Galt to fight our battles might seem odd, but they'd be protecting their
own land too. In a generation, Chaburi-Tan is going to be as much their
city as ours."
Otah felt an odd pressure in his chest. It was true, of course. It was
what he had spent years working to accomplish. And still, when Danat put
it in bare terms like that, it was hard for him to hear it.
"It's more than that," Sinja said.
"Is it Balasar?" Otah asked.
Sinja leaned forward, his fingers laced on his knee, his mouth set in a
scowl. At length, he spoke.
"Yes," he said. "Yes, it is."
"He's forgiven me," Otah said. "Perhaps the two of you-"
"All respect, Otah-cha," Sinja said. "You were his enemy. That's a fair
position. I broke my oath, lied to him, and killed his best captain.
He's a man who loves loyalty, and I was one of his men. It's not the same."
"Perhaps it isn't," Otah agreed.
"Balasar-cha doesn't have to be the one to lead it," Danat said. "Or,
all respect, Sinja-cha, for that."
"No, of course we don't," Sinja said. "It's not my head that's
struggling with the thought. It's just ... The boy's right, Otah-cha. A
mixed fleet, their ships and ours, sinking the pirates would be the best
solution. I don't know if we can negotiate the thing, but it's worth
considering."
Otah scratched his leg.
"Farrer-cha," he said. "Danat's new father. He has experience with sea
fighting. I think he hates all of us together and individually for
Anacha's upcoming marriage, but he would still be the man to approach."
Danat took a long drink of water and grinned. It made him look younger.
"After the ceremony's done with," Sinja said. "We'll get the man drunk
and happy and see if we can't make him sign something binding before he
sobers up."
"If it were only so simple," Otah said. "With the High Council and the
Low Council and the Conclave, every step they take is like putting cats
in a straight line. Watching it in action, it's amazing they ever put
together a war."
"You should talk to Balasar," Sinja said.
"I will," Otah replied.
They moved on to other topics. Some were more difficult: weavers and
stonemasons on the coasts had started offering money to apprentices, so