consequences if he had lived would have been worse. Heshai was right
when he warned you to let the thing drop. The Khai Saraykeht would have
turned the andat against Galt. There would have been thousands of
innocent lives ruined. And when it was over, you would still have been
yoked to Seedless. Trapped in the torture box just the way Heshai had
been all those years. Heshai knew that, and he waited for me to do the
thing."
"And you did it."
"I did."
Maati was silent. Otah sat. His knees seemed less solid than he would
have liked, but he didn't let the weakness stop him.
"It was the worst thing I have ever done," Otah said. "I never stopped
dreaming about it. Even now, I see it sometimes. Heshai was a good man,
but what he'd created in Seedless...."
"Seedless was only part of him. They all are. They couldn't be anything
else. Heshai-kvo hated himself, and Seedless was that."
"Everyone hates themselves sometimes. There isn't often a price in
blood," Otah said. "You know what would happen if that were proven.
Killing a Khai would pale beside murdering a poet."
Maati nodded slowly, and still nodding, spoke.
"I didn't ask on the Dai-kvo's behalf. I asked for myself. When
Heshai-kvo died, Seedless ... vanished. I was with him. I was there. He
was asking me whether I would have forgiven you. If you'd committed some
terrible crime, like what he had done to Maj, if I would forgive you.
And I told him I would. I would forgive you, and not him. Because ..."
They were silent. Maati's eyes were dark as coal.
"Because?" Otah asked.
"Because I loved you, and I didn't love him. He said it was a pity to
think that love and justice weren't the same. The last thing he said was
that you had forgiven me."
"Forgiven you?"
"For Liat. For taking your lover."
"I suppose it's true," Otah said. "I was angry with you. But there was a
part of me that was ... relieved, I suppose."
"Why?"
"Because I didn't love her. I thought I did. I wanted to, and I enjoyed
her company and her bed. I liked her and respected her. Sometimes, I
wanted her as badly as I've ever wanted anyone. And that was enough to
let me mistake it for love. But I don't remember it hurting that deeply
or for that long. Sometimes I was even glad. You had each other to take
care of, and so it wasn't mine to do."
"You said, that last time we spoke before you left ... before Heshaikvo
died, that you didn't trust me."
"That's true," Otah said. "I do remember that."
"But you've come to me now, and you've told me this. You've told me all
of it. Even after I gave you over to the Khai. You've brought me in
here, shown me where you've hidden. You know there are half a hundred
people I could say a word to, and you and all these other people would
be dead before the sun set. So it seems you trust me now."