done them. Can you?"
"There's a price they pay," Idaan said. "The soldiers and the armsmen.
Even the thugs and drunkards who carve each other up outside comfort
houses. They pay a price, and we're paying it too. That's all."
She felt him sigh.
"I suppose you're right," he said.
"So what do we do from here? What about Otah?"
Adrah shrugged, as if the answer were obvious.
"If Maati Vaupathai's set himself to be Otah's champion, Otah will
eventually come to him. And Cehmai's already shown that there's one
person in the world he'll break his silence for."
"I want Cehmai kept out of this."
"It's too late for that," Adrah said. His voice should have been cold or
angry or cruel, and perhaps those were in him. Mostly, he sounded
exhausted. "He's the only one who can lead us to Otah Machi. And you're
the only one he'll tell."
PORSHA RADAANI GESTURED TOWARD MAA'I'I'S BOWL, AND A SERVANT BOY moved
forward, graceful as a dancer, to refill it. Maati took a pose of
gratitude toward the man. There were times and places that he would have
thanked the servant, but this was not one of them. Maati lifted the bowl
and blew across the surface. The pale green-yellow tea smelled richly of
rice and fresh, unsmoked leaves. Radaani laced thick fingers over his
wide belly and smiled. His eyes, sunk deep in their sockets and padded
by generous fat, glittered like wet stones in a brook.
"I confess, Maati-cha, that I hadn't expected a visit from the Daikvo's
envoy. I've had men from every major house in the city here to talk with
me these last few days, but the most high Dai-kvo usually keeps clear of
these messy little affairs."
Maati sipped his tea though it was still too hot. He had to be careful
how he answered this. It was a fine line between letting it be assumed
that he had the Dai-kvo's hacking and actually saying as much, but that
difference was critical. He had so far kept away from anything that
might reach hack to the Dal-kvo's village, but Radaani was an older man
than Ghiah Vaunani or Admit Kamati. And he seemed more at home with the
bullying attitude of wealth than the subtleties of court. Maati put down
his bowl.
"The Dai-kvo isn't taking a hand in it," Nlaati said, "but that hardly
means he should embrace ignorance. The better he knows the world, the
better he can direct the poets to everyone's benefit, nc?"
"Spoken like a man of the court," Radaani said, and despite the smile in
his voice, Maati didn't think it had been a compliment.
"I have heard that the Radaani might have designs on the Khai's chair,"
Maati said, dropping the oblique path he had intended. It would have
done no good here. "Is that the case?"
Radaani smiled and pointed for the servant boy to go. The boy dropped
into a formal pose and retreated, sliding the door closed behind him.
Maati sat, smiling pleasantly, but not filling the silence. It was a
small room, richly appointed-wood varnished until it seemed to glow and
ornaments of worked gold and carved stone. The windows were adorned with