"We don't know for certain that they're backing anyone," Amiit said.
"That's an assumption we've made. We can make some educated guesses, but
that's all. It may be that their schemes are about the poets, the way
you suggested, and not the succession at all."
"But you don't believe that," Otah said.
"And the poets don't either," the round-checked man said. "At least not
the new one."
"Shojen-cha is the man we set to follow Maati Vaupathai," Amiit said.
"He's been digging at all the major houses of the utkhaiem," Shojen
said, leaning forward, his rings glittering in the light. "In the last
week, he's had audiences with all the highest families and half the low
ones. And he's been asking questions about court politics and money and
power. He hasn't been looking to the Galts in particular, but it's clear
enough he thinks some family or families of the utkhaiem are involved in
the killings."
"What's he found out?" Otah asked,
"We don't know. I can't say what he's looking for or what he's found,
but there's no question he's conducting an investigation."
"He's the one who gave you over to the Khai in the first place, isn't
he, Otah-cha?" Lamara said in his ruined voice.
"He's also the one who took a knife in the gut," Sinja said.
"Can we say why he's looking?" Otah asked. "What would he do if he
discovered the truth? Report it to the utkhaiem? Or only the Daikvo?"
"I can't say," Shojen said. "I know what he's doing, not what he's
thinking."
"We can say this," Amiit said, his expression dour and serious. "As it
stands, there's no one in the city who'll think you innocent, Otah-cha.
If you're found in Machi, you'll be killed. And whoever sticks the first
knife in will use it as grounds that he should he Khai. The only
protection you'll have is obscurity."
"No armsmen?" Otah asked.
"Not enough," Amiit said. "First, they'd only draw attention to you, and
second, there aren't enough guards in the city to protect you if the
utkhaiem get your scent in their noses."
"But that's true wherever he is," Lamara said. "If they find out he's
alive on a desolate rock in the middle of the sea, they'll send men to
kill him. He's murdered the Khai!"
"Then best to keep him where he won't be found," Amiit said. There was
an impatience in his tone that told Otah this debate had been going on
long before he'd come in the room. Tempers were fraying, and even Amiit
Foss's deep patience was wearing thin. He felt Kiyan's eyes on him, and
looked up to meet her gaze. Her half-smile carried more meaning than
half a hand's debate. They will never agree and you may as we//practice
giving orders now-if itgoes well, you'll be doing it for the rest of
your life and I'm sorry, love.
Otah felt a warmth in his chest, felt the panic and distress relax like
a stiff muscle rubbed in hot oils. Lamara and Amiit were talking over
each other, each making points and suggestions it was clear they'd made
before. Otah coughed, but they paid him no attention. He looked from