summer quarters with wide arched windows, the shutters open to the air.
Silk banners with the yellow and gray of the Vaunyogi bellied and
fluttered in the breeze, as graceful as dancers. A desk stood at one
wall, a brick of ink and a metal pen sitting on it, ready should anyone
wish to use them. This room smelled of cedar and sandalwood. And sitting
in one of the sills, her feet out over the void, Idaan. Cehmai breathed
in deep, and let the air slide out slowly, taking with it a tension he'd
only half known he carried. She turned, looking at them over her
shoulder. Her face was unpainted, but she was just as lovely as she had
ever been. The bare, unadorned skin reminded Cehmai of the soft curve of
her mouth when she slept and the slow, languorous way she stretched when
she was on the verge of waking.
He took a pose of formal greeting. There was perhaps a moment's
surprise, and then she pulled her legs back into the room. Her
expression asked the question.
"Cehmai-kya wished to speak with you, love," Adrah said.
"I am always pleased to meet with the servant of the I)ai-kvo," Idaan
said. Her smile was formal and calm, and gave away nothing. Cehmai hoped
that he had not been wrong to come, but feared that her pleasant words
might cover anger.
"Forgive me," he said. "I hadn't meant to intrude. Only I had hoped to
find you at your own quarters, and these last few days ..."
Something in her demeanor softened slightly, as if she had heard the
deeper layer of his apology-I hurl to see yore, and there was no other
wayand accepted it. Idaan returned his formal greeting, then sauntered
to the desk and sat, her hands folded on her knees, her gaze cast down
in what would have been proper form for a girl of the utkhaiem before a
poet. From her, it was a bitter joke. Adrah coughed. Cehmai glanced at
him and realized the man thought she was being rude.
"I had hoped to offer my sympathies before this, Idaan-cha," Cehmai said.
"Your congratulations, too, I hope," Idaan said. "I am to be married
once the mourning week has passed."
Cehmai felt his heart go tighter, but only smiled and nodded.
"Congratulations as well," he said.
"Cehmai-kya and I have been talking," Adrah said. "About the city and
the succession."
Idaan seemed almost to wake at the words. Her body didn't move, but her
attention sharpened. When she spoke, her voice had lost a slowness
Cehmai had hardly known was there.
"Is that so? And what conclusions have you fine gentlemen reached?"
"Cehmai-kya agrees with me that the longer the struggle among the
utkhaiem, the worse for the city. It would be better if it were done
quickly. That's the most important thing."
"I see," Idaan said. I let gaze, dark as skies at midnight, shifted to
Cehmai. She moved to brush her hair back from her brow, though Cehmai
saw no stray lock there. "Then I suppose he would be wise to back
whichever house has the strongest claim. If he has decided to back
anyone. The I)ai-kvo has been scrupulous about removing himself from
these things."