your gaze up from your own corpse for a moment and tell me what happens

next?"

"There's a struggle. Some other family takes the chair."

"Yes. And what will the new Khai do?"

"He'll slaughter my family," Adrah said, his voice hollow and ghostly.

Idaan leaned forward and slapped him.

"He'll have Stone-Made-Soft level a few Galtic mountain ranges and sink

some islands. Do you think there's a Khai in any city that would sit

still at the word of the Galtic Council arranging the death of one of

their own? The Galts won't own you because your exposure would mean the

destruction of their nation and the wholesale slaughter of their people.

So worry a little less. You're supposed to he overwhelmed with the

delight of marrying me."

"Shouldn't you be delighted too, then?"

"I'm busy mourning my father," she said dryly. "Do we have any wine?"

"How is he? Your father?"

"I don't know," Idaan said. "I try not to see him these days. He makes

me ... feel weak. I can't afford that just now."

"I heard he's failing."

"Men can fail for a long time," she said, and stood. She left the bowl

on the floor and walked back to her bedroom, holding her hands out

before her, sticky with juice. Adrah followed along behind her and lay

on her bed. She poured water into her stone basin and watched him as she

washed her hands. He was a boy, lost in the world. Perhaps now was as

good a time as any. She took a deep breath.

"I've been thinking, Adrah-kya," she said. "About when you become Khai."

He turned his head to look at her, but did not rise or speak.

"It's going to he important, especially at the first, to gather allies.

Founding a line is a delicate thing. I know we agreed that it would

always be only the two of us, but perhaps we were wrong in that. If you

take other wives, you'll have more the appearance of tradition and the

support of the families who hind themselves to us."

"My father said the same," he said.

Oh did he? Idaan thought, but she held her face still and calm. She

dried her hands on the basin cloth and came to sit on the bed beside

him. To her surprise, he was weeping; small tears corning from the outer

corners of his eyes, thin tracks shining on his skin. Without willing

it, her hand went to his cheek, caressing him. He shifted to look at her.

"I love you, Idaan. I love you more than anything in the world. You are

the only person I've ever felt this way about."

His lips trembled and she pressed a finger against them to quiet him.

These weren't things she wanted to hear, but he would not be stopped.

"Let's end this," he said. "Let's just be together, here. I'll find

another way to move ahead in the court, and your brother ... you'll

still be his blood, and we'll still be well kept. Can't we ... can't we,

please?"

"All this because you don't want to take another woman?" she said

softly, teasing him. "I find that hard to believe."

He took her hand in his. He had soft hands. She remembered thinking that

the first time they'd fallen into her bed together. Strong, soft, wide

hands. She felt tears forming in her own eyes.

"My father said that I should take other wives," he said. "My mother

said that, knowing you, you'd only agree to it if you could take lovers

of your own too. And then you weren't here last night, and I waited

until it was almost dawn. And you ... you want to ..."

"You think I've taken another man?" she asked.

His lips pressed thin and bloodless, and he nodded. His hand squeezed

hers as if she might save his life, if only he held onto her. A hundred

things came to her mind all at once. Yes, of course I have. How dare you

accuse me? Cehmai is the only clean thing left in my world, and you

cannot have him. She smiled as if Adrah were a boy being silly, as if he

were wrong.

"That would be the stupidest thing I could possibly do just now," she

said, neither lying nor speaking the truth of it. She leaned forward to

kiss him, but before their mouths touched, a voice wild with excitement

called out from the atrium.

"Idaan-cha! Idaan-cha! Come quickly!"

Idaan leapt up as if she'd been caught doing something she ought not,

then gathered herself, straightened her robes. The mirror showed that

the paint on her mouth and eyes was smudged from eating and weeping, but

there wasn't time to reapply it. She pushed hack a stray lock of hair

and stormed out.

The servant girl took a pose of apology as Idaan approached her. She

wore the colors of her father's personal retinue, and Idaan's heart sank

to her belly. He had died. It had happened. But the girl was smiling,

her eyes bright.

"What's happened?" Idaan demanded.

"Everything," the girl said. "You're summoned to the court. The Khai is

calling everyone."

"Why? What's happened?"

"I'm not to say, Idaan-cha," the girl said.

Idaan felt the rage-blood in her face as if she were standing near a

fire. She didn't think, didn't plan. Her body seemed to move of its own

accord as she slid forward and clapped her hand on the servant girl's

throat and pressed her to the wall. There was shock in the girl's

expression, and Idaan sneered at it. Adrah fluttered like a bird in the

corner of her vision.

"Say," Idaan said. "Because I asked you twice, tell me what's happened.

And do it now."

"The upstart," the girl said. ""They've caught him."

Idaan stepped back, dropping her hand. The girl's eyes were wide. The

air of excitement and pleasure were gone. Adrah put a hand on Idaan's

shoulder, and she pushed it away.

"He was here," the girl said. "In the palaces. The visiting poet caught

him, and they're bringing him before the Khai."

Idaan licked her lips. Otah Machi was here. He had been here for the

gods only knew how long. She looked at Adrah, but his expression spoke

of an uncertainty and surprise as deep as her own. And a fear that

wasn't entirely about their conspiracy.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Choya," the girl said.

Idaan took a pose of abject apology. It was more than a member of the

utkhaiem would have normally presented to a servant, but Idaan felt her

guilt welling up like blood from a cut.