anything at all I can do, I have to do it."

"In order to save your teacher," Cehmai said, as if he understood.

"To sleep better twenty years from now," Maati said, correcting him. "If

anyone asks, I want to he able to say that I did what could be done. And

I want to be able to mean it. "That's more important to me than saving him."

Cehmai seemed puzzled, but Maati found no better way to express it

without mentioning his son's name, and that would open more than it

would close. Instead he waited, letting the silence argue for him.

Cehmai took a pose of acceptance at last, and then tilted his head.

"Maati-kvo ... I'm sorry, but when was the last time you slept?"

Maati smiled and ignored the question.

"I'm going to meet with one of the armsmen who saw my assassin killed,"

he said. "I was wondering if I could impose on you to find some servant

from Danat's household with whom I might speak later this evening. I

have a few questions about him ..

DANAT MACIII ARRIVED LIKE. A HERO. THE STREETS WERE FILLET) WITH people

cheering and singing. Festivals filled the squares. Young girls danced

through the streets in lines, garlands of summer blossoms in their hair.

And from his litter strewn with woven gold and silver, Danat Machi

looked out like a protective father indulging a well-loved child. Idaan

had been present when the word came that Danat Machi waited at the

bridge for his father's permission to enter the city. She had gone down

behind the runner to watch the doors fly open and the celebration that

had been building spill out into the dark stone streets. They would have

sting as loud for Kaiin, if Danat had been dead.

While Danat's caravan slogged its way through the crowds, Idaan

retreated to the palaces. The panoply of the utkhaiem was hardly more

restrained than the common folk. Members of all the high families

appeared as if by chance outside the Third Palace's great hall.

Musicians and singers entertained with beautiful ballads of great

warriors returning home from the field, of time and life renewed in a

new generation. They were songs of the proper function of the world. It

was as if no one had known Biitrah or Kaiin, as if the wheel of the

world were not greased with her family's blood. Idaan watched with a

calm, pleasant expression while her soul twisted with disgust.

When Danat reached the long, broad yard and stepped down from his

litter, a cheer went up from all those present; even from her. Danat

raised his arms and smiled to them all, beaming like a child on Candles

Night. His gaze found her, and he strode through the crowd to her side.

Idaan raised her chin and took a pose of greeting. It was what she was

expected to do. He ignored it and picked her up in a great hug, swinging

her around as if she weighed nothing, and then placed her back on her

own feet.

"Sister," he said, smiling into her eyes. "I can't say how glad I am to

see you.

"Danat-kya," she said, and then failed.

"How are things with our father?"

The sorrow that was called for here was at least easier than the feigned

delight. She saw it echoed in Danat's eyes. So close to him, she could

see the angry red in the whites of his eyes, the pallor in his skin. He

was wearing paint, she realized. Rouge on his cheeks and lips and some

warm-toned powder to lend his skin the glow of health. Beneath it, he

was sallow. She wondered if he'd grown sick, and whether there was some

slow poison that might be blamed for his death.

"He has been looking forward to seeing you," she said.

"Yes. Yes, of course. And I hear that you're to become a Vaunyogi. I'm

pleased for you. Adrah's a good man."

"I love him," she said, surprised to find that in some dim way it was

still truth. "But how are you, brother? Are you ... are things well with

you?"

For a moment, Danat seemed about to answer. She thought she saw

something weaken in him, his mouth losing its smile, his eyes looking

into a darkness like the one she carried. In the end, he shook himself

and kissed her forehead, then turned again to the crowd and made his way

to the Khai's palace, greeting and rejoicing with everyone who crossed

his path. And it was only the beginning. Danat and their father would be

closeted away for a time, then the ritual welcome from the heads of the

families of the utkhaicm. And then festivities and celebrations, feasts

and dances and revelry in the streets and palaces and teahouses.

Idaan made her way to the compound of the Vaunyogi, and to Adrah and his

father. The house servants greeted her with smiles and poses of welcome.

The chief overseer led her to a small meeting room in the hack. If it

seemed odd that this room-windowless and dark-was used now in the summer

when most gatherings were in gardens or open pavilions, the overseer

made no note of it. Nothing could have been more different from the mood

in the city than the one here; like a winter night that had crept into

summer.

"Has House Vaunyogi forgotten where it put its candles?" she asked, and

turned to the overseer. "Find a lantern or two. These fine men may be

suffering from their drink, but I've hardly begun to celebrate."

The overseer took a pose that acknowledged the command and scampered

off, returning immediately with his gathered light. Adrah and his father

sat at a long stone table. Dark tapestries hung from the wall, red and

orange and gold. When the doors were safely closed behind them, Idaan

pulled out one of the stools and sat on it. tier gaze moved from the

father's face to the son's. She took a pose of query.

"You seem distressed," she said. "The whole city is loud with my

brother's glory, and you two are skulking in here like criminals."

"We have reason to be distressed," Daaya Vaunyogi said. She wondered

whether Adrah would age into the same loose jowls and watery eyes. "I've

finally reached the Galts. They've cooled. Killing Oshai's made them

nervous, and now with Danat back ... we expected to have the fighting

between your brothers to cover our ... our work. There's no hope of that

now. And that poet hasn't stopped hunting around, even with the holes

Oshai poked in him."

""The more reason you have to be distressed," Idaan said, "the more

important that you should not seem it. Besides, I still have two living

brothers."

"Ah, and you have some way to make Danat die at Otah's hand?" the old

man said. There was mockery in his voice, but there was also hope. And

fear. He had seen what she had done, and perhaps now he thought her

capable of anything. She supposed that would be something worthy of his

hope and fear.