"Where?" he asked.

"In the river. There's a bend down near one of the low towns. They found

his body, and a man in leather armor. One of the men who helped him

escape, or that's what they've guessed. The Master of Tides is having

them brought to the Khai's physicians. I told him that you had seen Otah

most recently. You would be able to confirm it's really him."

Maati sighed and watched a sparrow try to land on the branch of a cherry

tree. The netting confused it, and the bird pecked at the lines that

barred it from the fruit just growing sweet. Nlaati smiled in sympathy.

"Let's go, then," he said.

There was a crowd in the courtyard outside the physician's apartments.

Armsmen wearing mourning robes barred most of the onlookers but parted

when Maati and Cehmai arrived. The physician's workroom was wide as a

kitchen, huge slate tables in the center of the room and thick incense

billowing from a copper brazier. The bodies were laid out naked on their

bellies-one thick and well-muscled with a heaped pile of black leather

on the table beside it, the other thinner with what might have been the

robes of a prisoner or cleaning rags clinging to its back. The Master of

Tides-a thin man named Saani Vaanga-and the Khai's chief physician were

talking passionately, but stopped when they saw the poets.

The Master of Tides took a pose that offered service.

"I have come on behalf of the Dai-kvo," Maati said. "I wished to confirm

the reports that Otah Machi is dead."

"Well, he isn't going dancing," the physician said, pointing to the

thinner corpse with his chin.

"We're pleased by the Dai-kvo's interest," the Master of Tides said,

ignoring the comment. "Cehmai-cha suggested that you might be able to

confirm for us that this is indeed the upstart."

Maati took a pose of compliance and stepped forward. The reek was

terrible-rotting flesh and something deeper, more disturbing. Cehmai

hung back as Maati circled the table.

Maati gestured at the body, his hand moving in a circle to suggest

turning it over that he might better see the dead man's face. The

physician sighed, came to Maati's side, and took a long iron hook. He

slid the hook under the body's shoulder and heaved. There was a wet

sound as it lifted and fell. The physician put away the hook and

arranged the limbs as Maati considered the bare flesh before him.

Clearly the body had spent its journey face down. The features were

bloated and fisheaten-it might have been Otah-kvo. It might have been

anyone.

On the pale, water-swollen flesh of the corpse's breast, the dark ink

was still visible. The tattoo. Maati had his hand halfway out to touch

it before he realized what he was doing and pulled his fingers back. The

ink was so dark, though, the line where the tattoo began and ended so

sharp. A stirring of the air brought the scent fully to his nose, and

Maati gagged, but didn't look away.

"Will this satisfy the Dai-kvo?" the Master of Tides asked.

Maati nodded and took a pose of thanks, then turned and gestured to

Cehmai that he should follow. The younger poet was stone-faced. Maati

wondered if he had seen many dead men before, much less smelled them.

Out in the fresh air again, they navigated the crowd, ignoring the

questions asked them. Cehmai was silent until they were well away from

any curious ear.

"I'm sorry, Maati-kvo. I know you and he were-"

"It's not him," Maati said.

Cehmai paused, his hands moved up into a pose that spoke of his

confusion. Maati stopped, looking around.

"It isn't him," Maati said. "It's close enough to be mistaken, but it

isn't him. Someone wants us to think him dead-someone willing to go to

elaborate lengths. But that's no more Otah Machi than I am."

"I don't understand," Cehmai said.

"Neither do I. But I can say this, someone wants the rumor of his death

but not the actual thing. They're buying time. Possibly time they can

use to find who's really done these things, then-"

"We have to go back! You have to tell the Master of Tides!"

Maati blinked. Cehmai's face had gone red and he was pointing back

toward the physician's apartments. The boy was outraged.

"If we do that," Maati said, "we spoil all the advantage. It can't get

out that-"

"Are you blind? Gods! It is him. All the time it's been him. This as

much as proves it! Otah Machi came here to slaughter his family. To

slaughter you. He has hackers who could free him from the tower, and he

has done everything that he's been accused of. Buying time? He's buying

safety! Once everyone thinks him dead, they'll stop looking. He'll be

free. You have to tell them the truth!"

"Otah didn't kill his father. Or his brothers. It's someone else."

Cehmai was breathing hard and fast as a runner at the race's end, but

his voice was lower now, more controlled.

"How do you know that?" he asked.

"I know Otah-kvo. I know what he would do, and-"

"Is he innocent because he's innocent, or because you love him?" Cehmai

demanded.

"This isn't the place to-"

""Tell me! Say you have proof and not just that you wish the sky was red

instead of blue, because otherwise you're blinded and you're letting him

escape because of it. There were times I more than half believed you,

Maati-kvo. But when I look at this I see nothing to suggest any

conspiracy but his."

Maati rubbed the point between his eyes with his thumb, pressing hard to

keep his annoyance at bay. He shouldn't have spoken to the boy, but now

that he had, there was nothing for it.

"Your anger-" he began, but Cehmai cut him off.

"You're risking people's lives, Maati-kvo. You're hanging them on the

thought that you can't be wrong about the upstart."

"Whose lives?"

"The lives of people he would kill."

"'There is no risk from Otah-kvo. You don't understand."

"'T'hen teach me." It was as much an insult as a challenge. Maati felt

the blood rising to his cheeks even as his mind dissected Cehmai's

reaction. There was something to it, some reason for the violence and

frustration of it, that didn't make sense. The boy was reacting to

something more than Nlaati knew. Maati swallowed his rage.

"I'll ask five days. Trust me for five days, and I will show you proof.