Idaan felt her own tears forcing their way into her eyes like traitors.

She hit her lip until she tasted blood.

"Let it be known," her father said, "that I have authorized this match.

Let the blood of the Khai Maehi enter again into House Vaunyogi. And let

all who honor the Khaiem respect this transfer and join in our

celebration. The ceremony shall be held in thirty-four days, on the

opening of summer."

The whisperers began, but the hush of their voices was quickly drowned

out by cheering and applause. Idaan raised her head and smiled as if the

smears on her cheeks were from joy. Every man and woman in the chamber

had risen. She turned to them and took a pose of thanks, and then to

Adrah and his father, and then, finally, to her own. He was still

weeping-a show of weakness that the gossips and hackbiters of the court

would be chewing over for days. But his smile was so genuine, so

hopeful, that Idaan could do nothing but love him and taste ashes.

"Thank you, most high," she said. He bowed his head, as if honoring her.

The Khai Nlachi left the dais first, attended by servants who lifted him

into his litter and others who bore him away. "I 'hen Idaan herself

retreated. The others would escape according to the status of their

families and their standing within them. It would be a hand and a half

before the chamber was completely empty. Idaan strode along white marble

corridors to a retiring room, sent away her servants, locked the door

and sobbed until her heart was empty again. Then she washed her face in

cool water from her basin, arrayed her kohl and blush, whitener and lip

rouge before a mirror and carefully made a mask of her skin.

There would be talk, of course. Even without her father's unseemly

display of humanity-and she hated them all for the laughter and

amusement that would occasion-there would be enough to pick apart. The

strength of Adrah's voice would be commented on. The way in which he

carried himself. Even his unease when the ritual slipped from its form

might speak well of him in people's memory. It was a small thing, of

course. In the minds of the witnesses, it had been clear that she would

be the daughter of a Khai only very briefly and merely sister to the

Khai was a lower status. House Vaunyogi was buying something whose value

would soon drop. It must be a love match, they would say, and pretend to

be touched. She wondered if it wouldn't be bettercleaner-to simply burn

the city and everyone in it, herself included. Let a hot iron clean and

seal it like searing a wound. It was a passing fantasy, but it gave her

comfort.

A knock came, and she arranged her robes before unlocking the door.

Adrah stood, his house servants behind him. He had not changed out of

his ritual robes.

"Idaan-kya," he said, "I was hoping you might come have a bowl of tea

with my father."

"I have gifts to present to your honored father," Idaan said, gesturing

to a cube of cloth and bright paper the size of a boar. It was already

lashed to a carrying pole. "It is too much for me. Might I have the aid

of your servants?"

Two servants had already moved forward to lift the burden.

Adrah took a pose of command, and she answered with one of acquiescence,

following him as he turned and left. They walked side by side through

the gardens, not touching. Idaan could feel the gazes of the people they

passed, and kept her expression demure. By the time they reached the

palaces of the Vaunyogi, her cheeks ached with it. Idaan and Adrah

walked with their entourage through a hall of worked rosewood and

mother-of-pearl, and to the summer garden where Daaya Vaunyogi sat

beneath a stunted maple tree and sipped tea from a stone bowl. His face

was weathered but kindly. Seeing him in this place was like stepping

into a woodcut from the Old Empire-the honored sage in contemplation.

The gift package was placed on the table before him as if it were a meal.

Adrah's father put down his bowl and took a pose that dismissed the

servants.

"The garden is closed," he said. "We have much to discuss, my children

and I."

As soon as the doors were shut and the three were alone, his face fell.

He sank back to his seat like a man struck by fever. Adrah began to

pace. Idaan ignored them both and poured herself tea. It was overbrewed

and bitter.

"You haven't heard from them, then, Daaya-cha?"

"The Galts?" the man said. "The messengers I send come back empty

handed. When I went to speak to their ambassador, they turned me away.

Things have gone wrong. The risk is too great. They won't hack us now."

"Did they say that?" Idaan asked.

Daaya took a pose that asked clarification. Idaan leaned forward,

holding back the snarl she felt twisting at her lip.

"Did they say they wouldn't back us, or is it only that you fear they

won't?"

"Oshai," Daaya said. "He knows everything. He's been my intermediary

from the beginning. If he tells what he knows-"

"If he does, he'll be killed," Idaan said. "That he injured a poet is

bad enough, but he murdered a son of the Khaiem without being a brother

to him. He knows what would happen. His best hope is that someone

intercedes for him. If he speaks what he knows, he dies badly."

"We have to free him," Adrah said. "We ha-(- to get him out. We have to

show the Galts that we can protect them."

"We will," Idaan said. She drank down her tea. "The three of us. And I

know how we'll do it."

Adrah and his father looked at her as if she'd just spat out a serpent.

She took a pose of query.

"Shall we wait for the Galts to take action instead? They've already

begun to distance themselves. Shall we take some members of your house

into our confidence? Hire some armsmen to do it for us? Assume that our

secrets will be safer the more people know?"

"But ...... Adrah said.

"If we falter, we fail," Idaan said. "I know the way to the cages. He's

kept underground now; if they move him to the towers, it gets harder. I

asked that we meet in a place with a private exit. This garden. There is

a way out of it?"

Daaya took an acknowledging pose, but his face was pale as bread dough.

"I thought there would be others you wished to consult," he said.

"There's nothing to consult over," Idaan said and pulled open the gifts

she had brought to her new marriage. Three dark cloaks with deep hoods,

three blades in dark leather sheaths, two unstrung hunter's bows with

dark-shafted arrows, two torches, a pot of smoke pitch and a bag to