"And the sky?"
"And the sky."
"But still no girl."
Cehmai dropped onto the couch, his hands worrying each other, restless.
The andat sighed and went back to its contemplation of the ashes and
fire-black metal. Cehmai smelled smoke in the air. It was likely just
the forges, but his mind made the scent into Idaan's father and brother
burning. He stood tip again, walked to the door, turned back and sat
down again.
"You could go out and look for her," the andat said.
"And why should I find her now? The mourning week's almost done. You
think if she wanted me, there wouldn't have been word? I just ... I
don't understand it."
"She's a woman. You're a man."
"Your point being?"
The andat didn't reply. It might as well have been a statue. Cehmai
probed at the connection between them, at the part of him that was the
binding of the andat, but Stone-Made-Soft was in retreat. It had never
been so passive in all the years Cehmai had held it. The quiet was a
blessing, though he didn't understand it. He had enough to work through,
and he was glad not to have his burden made any heavier.
"I shouldn't have been angry with Nlaati-kvo," Cehmai said. "I shouldn't
have confronted him like that."
"No?"
"No. I should have gone hack to the Master of 'f'ides and told him what
Maati-kvo had said. Instead, I promised him five days, and now three of
them have passed and I can't do anything but chew at the grass.
"You can break promises," the andat said. "It's the definition, really.
A promise is something that can be broken. If it can't, it's something
else."
"You're singularly unhelpful," Cehmai said. The andat nodded as if
remembering something, and then was still again. Cehmai stood, went to
the shutters, and opened them. The trees were still lush with summer-the
green so deep and rich he could almost see the autumn starting to creep
in at the edge. In winter, he could see the towers rising up to the sky
through the bare branches. Now he only knew they were there. He turned
to look at the path that led hack to the palaces, then went to the door,
opened it, and looked down it, willing someone to be there. Willing
Idaan's dark eyes to greet his own.
"I don't know what to do about Adrah Vaunyogi. I don't know if I should
back him or not."
"For something you consider singularly unhelpful, I seem to receive more
than my share of your troubles."
"You aren't real," Cehmai said. "You're like talking to myself."
The andat seemed to weigh that for a moment, then took a pose that
conceded the point. Cehmai looked out again, then closed the door.
"I'm going to lose my mind if I stay here. I have to do something," he
said. Stone-Made-Soft didn't respond, so Cehmai tightened the straps of
his boots, stood, and pulled his robes into place. "Stay here."