Cehmai paused at the door, one foot already outside, and turned hack.
"Does nothing bother you?" he asked the andat.
"Being," Stone-Made-Soft suggested.
The palaces were still draped with rags of mourning cloth, the dry,
steady beat of the funeral drum and the low wailing dirges still the
only music. Cehmai took poses of greeting to the utkhaiem whom he
passed. At the burning, they had all worn pale mourning cloth. Now, as
the week wore on, there were more colors in the robes-here a mix of pale
cloth and yellow or blue, there a delicate red robe with a wide sash of
mourning cloth. No one went without, but few followed the full custom.
It reminded Cehmai of a snow lily, green tinder the white and budding,
swelling, preparing to burst out into new life and growth, new conflict
and struggle. The sense of sorrow was slipping from Machi, and the sense
of opportunity was coming forth.
He found he could not say whether that reassured or disgusted him.
Perhaps both.
Idaan was, of course, not at her chambers. The servants assured him that
she had been by-she was in the city, she hadn't truly vanished. Cehmai
thanked them and continued on his way to the palace of the Vaunyogi. He
didn't allow himself to think too deeply about what he was going to do
or say. It would happen soon enough anyway.
A servant brought him to one of the inner courtyards to wait. An apple
tree stood open to the air, its fruits unpecked by birds. Still unripe.
Cehmai sat on a low stone bench and watched the branches bob as sparrows
landed and took wing. His mind was deeply unquiet. On the one hand, he
had to see Idaan, had to speak with her at least if not hold her against
him. On the other, he could not bring himself to love Adrah Vaunyogi
only because she loved him. And the secret he held twisted in his
breast. Otah Machi lived....
"Cehmai-cha."
Adrah was dressed in full mourning robes. His eyes were sunken and
bloodshot, his movements sluggish. He looked like a man haunted. Cehmai
wondered how much sleep Adrah had managed in these last days. He
wondered how many of those late hours had been spent comforting Idaan.
The image of Idaan, her body entwined with Adrah's, flashed in his mind
and was pressed away. Cehmai took a pose of grect- i ng.
"I'm pleased you've come," Adrah said. "You've considered what I said?"
"Yes, Adrah-cha. I have. But I'm concerned for Idaan-cha. I'm told she's
been by her apartments, but I haven't been able to find her. And now,
with the mourning week almost gone ..
"You've been looking for her, then?"
"I wished to offer my condolences. And then, after our conversation, I
thought it would he wise to consult her on the matter as well. If it
were not her will to go on living in the palaces after all that's
happened, I would feel uncomfortable lending my support to a cause that
would require it."
Adrah's eyes narrowed, and Cchmai felt a touch of heat in his checks. He
coughed, looked down, and then, composed once again, raised his eyes to
Adrah. He half expected to see rage there, but Adrah seemed pleased.