part back before she'd entered this darkness. She drank wine and tea,
she accepted the congratulations of the high families on her joining
with the house of Vaunyogi. She blushed at the ribald comments made
about her and Adrah, or else replied with lewder quips.
She played the part. The only sign was that she was more elaborate when
she painted her face. Even if people noticed, what would they think but
that the colors on her eyelids and the plum-dark rouge on her lips were
a part of her celebration. Only she knew how badly she needed the mask.
The night candle was just past its middle mark when they broke away, she
and Adrah with their arms around each other as if they were lovers. No
one they saw had any question what they were planning, and no one would
object. Half of the city had paired off already and slunk away to find
an empty bed. It was the night for it. They laughed and stumbled toward
the high palaces-her father's.
Once, when they were hidden behind a high row of hedges and it wasn't a
performance for anyone, Adrah kissed her. He smelled of wine and the
warm, musky scent of a young man's skin. Idaan kissed him back, and for
that moment-that long silent, sensual moment-she meant it. "Then he
pulled away and smiled, and she hated him again.
The celebrations in the halls and galleries of the Khai's palace were
the nearest to exhaustion-everyone from the highest family of the
utkhaiem to the lowest firekeeper had dressed in their finest robes and
set out to stain them with something. The days of revelry had taken
their toll, and with the night half-passed, the wildest celebrations
were over. Music and song still played, people still danced and talked,
drew one another away into alcoves and corners. Old men talked gravely
of who would benefit from Danat's survival and promotion. But the sense
was growing that the time was drawing near when the city would catch its
breath and rest a while.
She and Adrah made their way through to the private wings of the palace,
where only servants and slaves and the wives of the Khai moved freely.
They made no secret of their presence. There was no need. Idaan led the
way up a series of wide, sweeping staircases to apartments on the south
side of the palace. A servant-an old man with gray hair, a limp, and a
rosy smile-greeted them, and Idaan instructed him that they were not to
be disturbed for any reason. The old man took a solemn expression and a
pose of acknowledgment, but there was merriment in his eyes. Idaan let
him believe what she, after all, intended him to. Adrah opened the great
wooden doors, and he also closed them behind her.
"They aren't the best rooms, are they?" Adrah said.
"They'll do," Idaan said, and went to the windows. She pulled open the
shutters. The great tower, Otah Machi's prison, stood like a dark line
inked in the air. Adrah moved to stand beside her.
"One of us should have gone with them," she said. "If the upstart's
found safely in his cell come morning . . ."
"He won't be," Adrah said. "Father's mercenaries are competent men. He
wouldn't have hired them for this if he hadn't been sure of them."
"I don't like using hired men," Idaan said. "If we can buy them, so can
anyone.