"Calling me a bastard seems harsh," Stone-Made-Soft said. "I haven't
told you how to behave."
"Be quiet!"
"If Vol, think it will help," the andat said, its voice amused, and
Cehmai turned the fury inward, pressing at the space where he and
Stone-blade-Soft were one thing, pushing the storm into a smaller and
smaller thing. He felt his hands in fists, felt his teeth ache with the
pressure of his clenched jaw. And the andat, shifted, bent to his
fire-bright will, knelt and cast down its gaze. He forced its hands into
a pose of apology.
"Cehmai-cha."
He turned on Maati. The wind was picking up, whipping their robes. The
fluttering of cloth sounded like a sail.
"I'm sorry," Maati-kvo said. "I truly am very sorry. I know what it must
mean to have these things questioned, but I have to know."
"Why? Why is my heart suddenly your business?"
"Let me ask this another way," Maati said. "If you aren't backing
Vaunyogi, who is?"
Cehmai blinked. His rage whirled, lost its coherence, and left him
feeling weaker and confused. On the ground beside them, StoneMade-Soft
sighed and rose to its feet. Shaking its great head, it gestured to the
green streaks on its robe.
"The launderers won't be pleased by that," it said.
"What do you mean?" Cehmai said, not to the andat, but to Maatikvo. And
yet, it was Stone-Made-Soft's deep rough voice that answered him.
"He's asking you how badly Adrah Vaunyogi wants that chair. And he's
suggesting that Idaan-cha may have just married her father's killer, all
unaware. It seems a simple enough proposition to me. They aren't going
to blame you for these stains, you know. They never do."
Maati stood silently, peering at him, waiting. Cehmai held his hands
together to stop their shaking.
"You think that?" he asked. "You think that Adrah might have arranged
the wedding because he knew what was going to happen? You think Adrich
killed them?"
"I think it worth considering," Maati said.
Cchmai looked down and pressed his lips together until they ached. If he
didn't-if he looked up, if he relaxed-he knew that he would smile. He
knew what that would say about himself and his small, petty soul, so he
swallowed and kept his head low until he could speak. Unbidden, he
imagined himself exposing Adrah's crime, rejoining Idaan with her sole
remaining family. He imagined her eyes looking into his as he told her
what Maati knew.
"Tell me how I can help," he said.
MAAI'I SAT IN THE FIRST GALLERY, LOOKING DOWN INTO THE GREAT HALL and
waiting for the council to go on. It was a rare event, all the houses of
the utkhaiem meeting without a Khai to whom they all answered, and they
seemed both uncertain what the proper rituals were and unwilling to let
the thing move quickly. It was nearly dark now, and candles were being
set out on the dozen long tables below him and the speaker's pulpit