Maati considered this, waiting for his heart to rise in anger or

shrivel, but it only beat in its customary rhythm. He wondered when it

had stopped mattering to him, the father of the boy he'd lost. Since the

last time he had spoken with Utah in the high stone cell, certainly, but

looking back, he couldn't put a moment to it. If the boy was his get or

Utah's, neither would bring him back. Neither would undo the years gone

by. And there were other things that he had that he might still lose, or

else save.

"I thought I was going to die," Otah said. "I thought it wouldn't matter

to me, and if it gave you some comfort, then ..."

"Let it go," Maati said. "If there's anything to be said about it, we

can say it later. There are other matters at hand."

"Have you found something, then?"

"I have a family name, I think. Certainly there's someone putting money

and influence behind the Vaunyogi."

"Likely the Galts," Otah said. "They've been making contracts bad enough

to look like bribes. We didn't know what influence they were buying."

"It could be this," Nlaati said. "Do you know why they'd do it?"

"No," Otah said. "But if you've proof that the Vaunyogi are behind the

murderers-"

"I don't," Maati said. "I have a suspicion, but nothing more than that.

Not yet. And if we don't uncover them quickly, they'll likely have Adrah

named Khai Machi and have the resources of the whole city to find you

and kill you for crimes that everyone outside this warehouse assumes you

guilty of."

They sat in silence for the space of three breaths.

"Well," Otah-kvo said, "it appears we have some work to do then. But at

least we've an idea where to look."

IN HER DREAM, II)AAN WAS AT A CELEBRATION. FIRE BURNED IN A RING ALL

around the pavilion, and she knew with the logic of dreams that the

flames were going to close, that the circle was growing smaller. They

were all going to burn. She tried to shout, tried to warn the dancers,

but she could only croak; no one heard her. 't'here was someone there

who could stop the thing from happening-a single man who was Cehmai and

Otah and her father all at once. She beat her way through the bodies,

trying to find him, but there were dogs in with the people. The flames

were too close already, and to keep themselves alive, the women were

throwing the animals into the fire. She woke to the screams and howls in

her mind and the silence in her chamber.

The night candle had failed. The chamber was dim, silvered by moonlight

beyond the dark web of the netting. The shutters along the wall were all

open, but no breath of air stirred. Idaan swallowed and shook her head,

willing the last wisps of nightmare into forgetfulness. She waited,

listening to her breath, until her mind was her own again. Even then she

was reluctant to sleep for fear of falling into the same dream. She

turned to Adrah, but the bed at her side was empty. He was gone.

"Adrah?"

"There was no answer.

Idaan wrapped herself with a thin blanket, pushed aside the netting and

stepped out of her bed-her new bed. Her marriage bed. The smooth stone

of the floor was cool against her bare feet. She walked through the

chambers of their apartments-hers and her husband'ssilently. She found

him sitting on a low couch, a bottle beside him. A thick earthenware

bowl on the floor stank of distilled wine. Or perhaps it was his breath.

"You aren't sleeping?" she asked.

"Neither arc you," he said. The slurred words were half accusation.

"I had a dream," she said. "It woke me."

Adrah lifted the bottle, drinking from its neck. She watched the

delicate shifting mechanism of his throat, the planes of his cheeks, his

eyes closed and as smooth as a man asleep. Her fingers twitched toward

him, moving to caress that familiar skin without consulting him on her

wishes. Coughing, he put down the wine, and the eyes opened. Whatever

beauty had been in him, however briefly, was gone now.

"You should go to him," Adrah said. Perversely, he sounded less drunk

now. Idaan took a pose of query. Adrah waved it away with the sloshing

bottle. "The poet boy. Cehmai. You should go to him. See if you can get

more information."

"You don't want me here?"

"No," Adrah said, pressing the bottle into her hand. As he rose and

staggered past her, Idaan felt the insult and the rejection and a

certain relief that she hadn't had to find an excuse to slip away.

The palaces were deserted, the empty paths dreamlike in their own way.

Idaan let herself imagine that she had woken into a new, different

world. As she slept, everyone had vanished, and she was walking now

alone through an empty city. Or she had died in her sleep and the gods

had put her here, into a world with nothing but herself and darkness. If

they had meant it for punishment, they had misjudged.

The bottle was below a quarter when she stepped under the canopy of

sculpted oaks. She had expected the poet's house to he dark as well, but

as she advanced, she caught glimpses of candle glow, more light than a

single night candle could account for. Something like hope surged in

her, and she slowly walked forward. The shutters and door were open, the

lanterns within all lit. But the wide, still figure on the steps wasn't

him. Idaan hesitated. The andat raised its hand in greeting and motioned

her closer.

"I was starting to think you wouldn't come," Stone-Made-Soft said in its

distant, rumbling voice.

"I hadn't intended to," Idaan said. "You had no call to expect me."

"If you say so," it agreed, amiably. "Come inside. He's been waiting to

see you for days."

Going up the steps felt like walking downhill, the pull to be there and

see him was more powerful than weight. The andat stood and followed her

in, closing the door behind her and then proceeding around the room,

fastening the shutters and snuffing the flames. Idaan looked around the

room, but there were only the two of them.

"It's late. He's in the back," the andat said and pinched out another

small light. "You should go to him."

"I don't want to disturb him."

"He'd want you to."

She didn't move. The spirit tilted its broad head and smiled.

"He said he loves me," Idaan said. "When I saw him last, he said that he

loved me."

"I know."