to seal it. House Siyanti wasn't going to be welcome, whichever of your

brothers took the title."

"And taking me out of their tower was intended to win back their favor?"

Amiit's expression clouded. He shook his head.

"That wasn't our plan. Someone hired a mercenary company to take you

from the city to a low town and hold you there. We don't know who it

was; they only met with the captain, and he's not on our side. But I'm

fairly certain it wasn't your brother or your father."

"But you got word of it?"

"I had word of it. Mercenaries ... well, they aren't always the most

reliable of companions. Sinja-cha knew I was in the city, and would be

interested in your situation. He was ready to make a break with his old

cohort for other reasons, and offered me the opportunity to ... what?

Outbid his captain for his services in the matter?"

"Sinja-cha is the commander?"

"Yes. Or, was. He's in my employ now. With luck, his old captain thinks

him dead along with you and the other armsmen involved."

"And what will you do now? Ransom me back to the Khai?"

"No," Amiit said. "I've already made a bargain that won't allow that.

Besides, I really did enjoy working with you. And ... and you may yet be

in a position to help me more as an ally than a commodity, ne?"

"It's a bad bet," Otah said and smiled.

Amiit grinned again.

"Ah, but the stakes are high. Would you rather just have water? I wasn't

thinking."

"No, I'll keep this."

"Whatever you like. So. Yes, something's happening in Machi. I expect

they're out scouring the world for you even now. And in a day, perhaps

two, they'll find you floating down the river or caught on a sandbar."

"And then?"

"I don't know," Amiit said. "And then we'll know what's happened in the

meantime. Things are moving quickly, and there's more going on than I

can fathom. For instance, I don't know what the Galts have to do with it."

Otah put down his cup. Even under the blanket of whiskers, he could see

the half-smile twitch at Amiit's mouth. The overseer's eyes sparkled.

"But perhaps you do?" Amiit suggested.

"No, but ... no. I've dealt with something else once. Something

happened. The Galts were behind it. What are they doing here? How do

they figure in?"

"They're making contracts with half the houses in Machi. Large contracts

at disadvantageous terms. They've been running roughshod over the

Westlands so long they're sure to be good for it-they have almost as

much money as the Khaiem. It may just be they've a new man acting as the

overseer for the Machi contracts, and he's no good. But I doubt it. I

think they're buying influence."

"Influence to do what?"

"I haven't the first clue," Amiit said. "I was hoping you might know."

Otah shook his head. He took another piece of chicken, but his mind was

elsewhere. The Galts in Machi. He tried to make Biitrah's death, the

attack on Maati, and his own improbable freedom into some pattern, but

no two things seemed to fit. He drank his wine, feeling the warmth

spread through his throat and belly.

"I need your word on something, Amiit-cha. That if I tell you what I

know, you won't act on it lightly. There are lives at stake."

"Galtie lives?"

"Innocent ones."

Amiit considered silently. His face was closed. Otah poured more water

into his cup. Amiit silently took a pose that accepted the offered

terms. Otah looked at his hands, searching for the words he needed to say.

"Saraykeht. When Seedless acted against Heshai-kvo there, the Gaits were

involved. They were allied with the andat. I believe they hoped to find

the andat willing allies in their own freedom, only Seedless was ...

unreliable. They hurt Heshai badly, even though their plan failed. They

aren't the ones who murdered him, but Heshai-kvo let himself be killed

rather than expose them."

"Why would he do an idiot thing like that?"

"He knew what would happen. He knew what the Khai Saraykeht would do."

Otah felt himself on the edge of confession, but he stopped before

admitting that the poet had died at his hands. There was no need, and

that, at least, was one secret that he chose to keep to himself.

Instead, he looked up and met Amiit's gaze. When the overseer spoke, his

voice was calm, measured, careful.

"He would have slaughtered Galt," Amiit said.

"Innocent lives."

"And some guilty ones."

"A few."

Amiit leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled before his lips.

Otah could almost see the calculations taking place behind those calm,

dark eyes.

"So you think this is about the poets?"

"It was last time," Otah said. "Let me send a letter to Maati. Let me

warn him-"

"We can't. You're dead, and half the safety we can give you depends on

your staying dead until we know more than this. But ... but I can tell a

few well-placed people to be on alert. And give them some idea what to

be alert for. Another Saraykeht would be devastating." Amiit sighed

deeply. "And here I thought only the succession, your life, and my house

were in play. Poets now, too."

Amiit's smile was thoughtful.

"I'll give you this. You make the world more interesting, Itani-cha. Or...?"

He took a pose that asked for correction.

"Otah. Much as I've fought against it, my name is Otah Machi. We might

as well both get used to saying it."

"Otah-cha, then," Amiit said. He seemed pleased, as if he'd won some

small victory.

Voices came up through the window. The commander's was already familiar

even after so short a time. Otah couldn't make out the words, but he

sounded pleased. Another voice answered him that Otah didn't know, but

the woman's laughter that pealed out after it was familiar as water.

Otah felt the air go thin. He stood and walked slowly to the open

shutters. There in the yard behind the farmhouse Sinja and one of the

archers were standing beside a lovely woman in loose cotton robes the

blue of the sky at twilight. Her fox-thin face was smiling, one eyebrow