the silvered glass on the walls below him. A second gallery rose above
him, where women and children of the lower families and representatives
of the trading houses could sit and observe. The architect had been
brilliant-a man standing as speaker need hardly raise his voice and the
stone walls would carry his words through the air without need of
whisperers. Even over the murmurs of the tables below and the galleries
above, the prepared, elaborate, ornate, deathly dull speeches of the
utkhaiem reached every ear. The morning session had been interesting at
least-the novelty of the situation had held his attention. But apart
from his conversation with Cehmai, Maati had filled the hours of his day
with little more than the voices of men practiced at saying little with
many words. Praise of the utkhaiem generally and of their own families
in particular, horror at the crimes and misfortunes that had brought
them here, and the best wishes of the speaker and his father or his son
or his cousin for the city as a whole, and on and on and on.
Maati had pictured the struggle for power as a thing of blood and fire,
betrayal and intrigue and danger. And, when he listened for the matter
beneath the droning words, yes, all that was there. That even this could
be made dull impressed him.
The talk with Cehmai had gone better than he had hoped. He felt guilty
using Idaan Machi against him that way, but perhaps the boy had been
ready to be used. And there was very little time.
I--Ic was relying now on the competence of his enemies. 'There would be
only a brief window between the time when it became clear who would take
the prize and the actual naming of the Khai Machi. In that moment, Maati
would know who had engineered all this, who had used Otah-kvo as a
cover, who had attempted his own slaughter. And if he were wise and
lucky and well-positioned, he might be able to take action. Enlisting
Cchmai in his service was only a way to improve the chances of setting a
lever in the right place.
"The concern our kind brother of Saya brings up is a wise one to
consider," a sallow-faced scion of the Daikani said. "The days arc
indeed growing shorter, and the time for preparation is well upon us.
There are roofs that must be made ready to hold their burden of snow.
There arc granaries to be filled and stocks to be prepared. There are
crops to be harvested, for men and beasts both."
"I didn't know the Khai did all that," a familiar voice whispered. "He
must have been a very busy man. I don't suppose there's anyone could
take up the slack for him?"
Baarath shifted down and sat beside Maati. He smelled of wine, his
cheeks were rosy, his eyes too bright. But he had an oilcloth cone
filled with strips of fried trout that he offered to Maati, and the
distraction was almost welcome. Maati took a bit of the fish.
"What have I missed?" Baarath said,
"The Vaunyogi appear to be a surprise contender," Maati said. "They've
been mentioned by four families, and praised in particular by two
others. I think the Vaunani and Kamau are feeling upset by it, but they
seem to hate each other too much to do anything about it."
"That's truth," Baraath said. "Ijan Vaunani came to blows with old