one?"
"Spoken like a man," Sinja said, raising his howl in salute. "The gods
all know it won't be easy. As long as the utkhaicm think you've done
everything you're accused of, they'll kill you first and crown you
after. You'll have to find who did the thing and feed them to the
crowds, and even then half of them will think you're guilty and clever.
But if you don't do the thing ... No, I think you're right. The options
are live in fear or take the world by the balls. You can be the Khai
Nlachi, or you can be the Khai Machi's victim. I don't see a third way."
"I'll take the first. And I'll be glad about it. It's only . .
"You mourn that other life, I know. It comes with leaving your boyhood
behind."
"I wouldn't have thought I was still just a boy."
"It doesn't matter what you've done or seen. Every man's a child until
he's a father. It's the way the world's made."
Otah raised his brows and took a pose of (Iuery only slightly hampered
by the bowl of wine.
"Oh yes, several," Sinja said. "So far the mothers haven't met one
another, so that's all for the best. But your woman? Kiyan-cha?"
Otah nodded.
"I traveled with her for a time," Sinja said. "I've never met another
like her, and I've known more than my share of women. You're lucky to
have her, even if it means freezing your prick off for half the year up
here in the north."
"Are you telling me you're in love with my lover?" Otah asked, half
joking, half serious.
"I'm saying she's worth giving up the sea for," Sinja said. He finished
the last of his wine, spun the bowl on the table, and then clapped
Otah's shoulder. Otah met his gaze for a moment before Sinja turned and
strode out. Otah looked into the wine bowl again, smelled the memory of
grapes hot from the sun, and drank it down. Outside, the sun broke
through, and the green of the trees and blue of the sky where it peeked
past the gray and white and yellow clouds showed vibrant as something
newly washed.
Their quarters were down a short corridor, and then through a thin
wooden door on leather hinges halfway to wearing through. Kiyan lay on
the cot, the netting pulled around her to keep the gnats and mosquitoes
off. Otah slipped through and lay gently beside her, watching her eyes
flutter and her lips take up a smile as she recognized him.
"I heard you talking," she said, sleep slurring the words.
"Sinja-cha came up."
"What was the matter?"
"Nothing," he said, and kissed her temple. "We were only talking about
the sea."
CEHMAI CLOSED THE DOOR OF THE POET'S HOUSE AGAIN AND STARTED PACing the
length of the room. The storm in the back of his mind was hardly a match
for the one at the front. Stone-Made-Soft, sitting at the empty, cold
brazier, looked up. Its face showed a mild interest.
"Trees still there?" the andat asked.