long as his forearm. He ignored them for now and sent his servants

scurrying for fresh paper and chilled tea. He sat at his desk, the pen's

bright bronze nib in the air just above the brick of ink, and gave

himself a moment before he began.

Kiyan-kya-

Well, love, it's all gone as well as a wicker fish boat. Ana

won't have Danat. Danat won't have Ana. I find myself host

to the worst gathering in history not actually struck by

plague. I think the only thing I've done well was that I

didn't wrestle our son to the ground when he walked away

from me. I feel like everyone is wrapped up in what happened

before, and I'm alone in fearing what will come after. We

won't survive, love. The Khaiem and the Galts both are

sinking, and we're so short-sighted and mean of spirit we're

willing to die if it means the other bastard goes down too.

I don't mean Ana or Danat. They're only young and brave and

stupid the way young, brave people are. I mean herfather.

FarrerDasin is happy to see this fail. I imagine there are a

./air number in my court who feel the same way.

There are too sides to this, love. But they aren't the two

sides we think of-not the Khaiem and the Galts. It's the

people in love with the past and the ones who./car./or the

future. And, though the gods alone know how I'm going to do

it, I have to win Danat and Ana over from the one camp to

the other.

Otah paused, something shifting in the back of his mind. It felt the way

it had when Kiyan was alive and speaking to him from the next room, her

voice too low to make out the words. He put down the pen and closed his

eyes.

Win Ana over. He had to win Ana over.

"Oh," he said.

"ISSANDRA-CHA. THANK YOU FOR COMING. YOU KNOW MY SON, I THINK," OTAH said.

The sun touched the hills to the west of Saraykeht. Ruddy air rich with

the scent of evening roses came through the unshuttered windows. A small

meal of cheese and dried apple and plum wine waited for their pleasure

on a low lacquered table. Issandra Dasin rose from her divan to greet

Danat as he came forward.

"Issandra-cha," Danat said and returned her welcome.

"Danat needs your help," Otah said. Danat glanced over at him, surprise

in his gaze. "You see, your daughter has convinced him that it would be

wrong to marry an unwilling woman. I can argue it to be the lesser evil,

but if we two work together, I think the issue might be avoided altogether."

Issandra returned to her seat, sighing. She looked older than when Otah

had first met her.

"It won't be simple," Issandra said.

"What won't be simple?" Danat asked.

"Wooing my daughter," Issandra said. "What did you think we were talking

about?"

Otah took a bit of dried apple in his mouth while Danat blinked. Words

stumbled over the boy's tongue without finding a sentence.

"You won't have a different girl for fear she'll hate you and lie about

it," Otah said in the tone of a man explaining the solution of a simple

mechanical problem. "Ana, we are all quite aware, isn't going to hide

her feelings on the matter. So if she chooses you, you can believe her.

Yes?"

"We have a small advantage in that her present lover is something of a

cow," Issandra said. "I suspect that, had the circumstances been

otherwise, she would already have grown tired of him. But he's a point

of pride now" She fixed Danat with her eyes. "You have a hard road

before you, son.

"You want me to seduce your daughter?" Danat asked, his voice breaking

slightly at seduce.

"Yes," Issandra said.

Danat sank to a cushion. His face flushed almost the color of sunset.

"I thought he might deliver an apology," Otah said. "It would give him a

reason to speak with Ana-cha in private, separate him from the political

aspect of the arrangement, and place him in her camp."

"Apologize for what?" Danat said.

"Well, for me," Otah said. "Express your shame that I would treat her so

poorly."

"She'll smell that in a heartbeat," Issandra said. "And if you begin by

giving her the upper hand, you'll never have it back. Ask an apology

from her. Respect her objections, but tell her she was wrong in humiliat

ing you. You are as much a pawn in this as she is. And do you have a lover?"

"I ... I was..."

"Well, find one," Issandra said. "Preferably someone prettier than my

daughter. You needn't look shocked, my boy. I've lived my life in court.

While you poor dears are out swinging knives at each other, there are

wars just as bloody at every grand ball."

A scratching came at the door, followed by a servant woman. She took a

pose of abject apology.

"Most High, there's a courier for you."

"It can wait," Otah said. "Or if it can't, send for Sinja-cha."

"The courier's come from Chaburi-Tan," the servant said. "The letter is

sealed and signed for you alone. He says the issue is urgent."

Otah cursed under his breath, but he rose. As he stepped out to the

antechamber, he heard Danat and Issandra resume the conversation without

him. The antechamber felt as close as a grave, heavy tapestries killing

any sound from within the greater meeting room. The courier was a young

man, hardly more than Danat's age. Otah saw the calm, professional eyes

sum him up. If the boy had been longer in the gentleman's trade, Otah

would never have noticed it. He accepted the letter and ripped it open

there, not waiting for a blade to cut the silk-sewn edging.

The cipher was familiar to him, but it made for slower reading than

plain text. It was from the Kajiit Miyan, servant to the Emperor Otah

Machi who had founded the Third Empire. Otah skipped down past the

honorifics and empty form, decoding words and phrases in his mind until

he reached something of actual importance. Then he read more slowly. And

then he went back and read it again.

The mercenaries hired to protect Chaburi-Tan were ending their contract

and leaving. Within a month, the city would be reduced to its citizen

militia. The pirates who had been harrying the city would find them only

token resistance. Their options, his agent said, were to surrender and

pray for mercy or else flee the city. There would be no defense.

Otah took the servant girl by the elbow.

"Find Balasar. And Sinja. Bring them . . ." Otah looked over his

shoulder. "Bring them to the winter garden of the second palace. Do it