"Of course not, it's a refinement of his work, not how to bind Seedless

again. It's a record of his failure. I)o you understand what I'm saving?"

Cchmai grasped for a right answer to the question and ended with honesty.

"No," he said.

"Heshai-kvo was a drunkard. He was a failure. He was haunted his whole

life by the woman he loved and the child he lost, and every measure of

the hatred he had for himself was in his binding. I Ic imagined the

andat as the perfect man and implicit in that was the disdain he

imagined such a man would feel looking at him. But Heshai was strong

enough to look his mistake in the face. He was strong enough to sit with

it and catalog it and understand. And the I)ai-kvo sent me to him.

Because he thought we could he the same. tic thought I would understand

him well enough to stand in his place."

"Nlaati-kvo, I'm sorry. Have you seen Idaan?"

"Well," Maati said, ignoring the question as he swayed slightly and

frowned at the crowd. "I can face my stupidities just as well as he did.

The I)ai-kvo wants to know who killed Biitrah? I'll find out. He can

tell me it's too late and he can tell me to come home, but he can't make

me stop looking. Whoever gets that chair ... whoever gets it ..."

Maati frowned, confused for a moment, and a sudden racking sob shook

him. He leaned forward. Cehmai moved to him, certain for a moment that

Maati was about to pitch off the walkway and down to the distant ground,

but instead the older poet gathered himself and took a pose of apology.

"I'm ... making an ass of myself," he said. "You were saying something."

Cehmai was torn for a moment. He could see the red that lined Maati's

eyes, could smell the sick reek of distilled wine on his breath and

something deeper-some drug mixed with the wine. Someone needed to see

Maati back to his apartments, needed to see that he was cared for. On

another night, Cehmai would have done it.

"Idaan," he said. "She must have been here. They're burning her brother

and her father. She had to attend the ceremony."

"She did." Nlaati agreed. "I saw her."

"Where's she gone?"

"With her man, I think. He was there beside her," Maati said. "I don't

know where they went."

"Are you going to he all right, Maati-kvo?"

Nlaati seemed to think about this, then nodded once and turned hack to

watch the pyre burning. The brown leather hook had fallen to the ground

by the wineskin, and the andat retrieved it and put it back in Maati's

sleeve. As they walked away, Cehmai took a pose of query.

"I didn't think he'd want to lose it," the andat said.

"So that was a favor to him?" Cehmai said. Stone-Made-Soft didn't reply.

They walked toward the women's quarters and Idaan's apartments. If she

was not there, he would go to the Vaunyogi's palace. He would say he was

there to offer condolences to Idaan-cha. That it was his duty as poet

and representative of the Dai-kvo to offer condolences to Idaan Machi on

this most sorrowful of days. It was his duty. Gods. And the Vaunyogi

would be chewing their own livers out. They'd contracted to marry their

son to the Khai 1MIachi's sister. Now she was no one's family.

"Maybe they'll cancel the arrangement," Stone-Made-Soft said. "It isn't

as if anyone would blame them. She could come live with us."

"You can be quiet now," Cehmai said.

At Idaan's quarters, the servant boy reported that Idaan-cha had been

there, but had gone. Yes, Adrah-cha had been there as well, but he had

also gone. The unease in the boy's manner made Cehmai wonder. Part of

him hoped that they had been fighting, those two. It was despicable, but

it was there: the desire that he and not Adrah Vaunyogi be the one to

comfort her.

He stopped next at the palace of the Vaunyogi. A servant led him to a

waiting chamber that had been dressed in pale mourning cloth fragrant

from the cedar chests in which it had been stored. The chairs and

statuary, windows and floors were all swathed in white rags that

candlelight made gold. The andat stood at the window, peering out at the

courtyard while Cehmai sat on the front handspan of a seat. Every breath

he took here made him wonder if coming had been a mistake.

The door to the main hall swung open. Adrah Vaunyogi stepped in. His

shoulders rode high and tight, his lips thin as a line drawn on paper.

Cehmai stood and took a pose of greeting which Adrah mirrored before he

closed the door.

"I'm surprised to sec you, Cchmai-cha," Adrah said, walking forward

slowly, as if unsure what precisely he was approaching. Cehmai smiled to

keep his unease from showing. "My father is occupied. But perhaps I

might be able to help you?"

"You're most kind. I came to offer my sympathies to ldaan-cha. I had

heard she was with you, and so ..."

"No. She was, but she's left. Perhaps she went back to the ceremony."

Adrah's voice was distant, as if only half his attention was on the

conversation. His eyes, however, were fixed on Cehmai like a snake on a

mouse, only Cehmai wasn't sure which of them would be the mouse, which

the serpent.

"I will look there," Cehmai said. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

"We are always pleased by an audience with the poet of Machi. Wait.

Don't ... don't go. Sit with me a moment."

Stone-Made-Soft didn't shift, but Cehmai could feel its interest and

amusement in the back of his mind. Cehmai sat in it rag-covered chair.

Adrah pulled a stool near to him, nearer than custom required. It was as

if Adrah wanted to make him feel they were in a smaller room together.

Cehmai kept his face as placid as the andat's.

"The city is in terrible trouble, Cehmai-cha. You know how had these

things can get. When it's only the three sons of the Khai, it's bad

enough. But with all the utkhaicm scheming and fighting and betraying

one another, the damage to the city ...

"I'd thought about that," Cehmai said, though in truth he cared more

about Idaan than the political struggles that the coming weeks would

bring. "And there's still the problem of Otah. He has a claim ..."

"He's murdered his own father."

"Have we proven that?"

"You doubt that he did the thing?"

"No," Cehmai said after a moment's pause. "No, I don't." Rrit,lfaati- kt

o still does.

"It would be best to end this quickly. To name the new Khai before

things can get out of control. You are a man of tremendous power. I know