utkhaiem are so much like sheep that they would consent to be led by
this shepherd boy of Vaunyogi?"
It was meant, Idaan knew, to be a speech to sway the others from their
confidence, but all she heard in the words was the confusion and pain of
a boy whose plans have fallen through. He could pound and rail and
screech his questions as long as his voice held out. Idaan, standing
above the proceedings like a protective ghost, knew the answers to every
one, and she would never tell them to him.
Below her, Adrah Vaunyogi looked up, his expression calm and certain. It
had been late in the morning that she'd woken in the poet's house, later
still when she'd returned to the rooms she shared now with her husband.
He had been there, waiting for her. The night's excesses had weighed
heavy on him. They hadn't spoken-she had only called for a bath and
clean robes. When she'd cleaned herself and washed her hair, she sat at
her mirror and painted her face with all her old skill and delicacy. The
woman who looked out at her when she put down her brushes might have
been the loveliest in Machi.
Adrah had left without a word. It had been almost half a hand before she
learned that her new father, Daaya Vaunyogi, had called for the
decision, and that the houses had agreed. No one had told her to come
here, no one had asked her to lend the sight of her silent presence to
the cause. She had done it, perhaps, because Adrah had not demanded it
of her.
"We must not hurry! We must not allow sentiment to push us into a
decision that will change our city forever!"
Idaan allowed herself a smile. It would seem to most people that the
force of the story had won the day. The last daughter of the old line
would be the first mother of the new, and if a quiet structure of money
and obligation supported it, if she were really the lover of the poet a
hundred times more than the Khai, it hardly mattered. It was what the
city would see, and that was enough.
Ghiah's energy was beginning to flag. She heard his words lose their
crispness and the pounding on his table fall out of rhythm. The anger in
his voice became merely petulance, and the objections to Adrah in
particular and the Vaunyogi in general lost their force. It would have
been better, she thought, if he'd ended half a hand earlier. Still
insufficient, but less so.
The Master of "fides stood when Ghiah at last surrendered the floor. He
was an old man with a long, northern face and a deep, sonorous voice.
Idaan saw his eyes flicker up to her and then away.
"Adaut Kamau has also asked to address the council," he said, "before
the houses speak on the decision to accept Adrah Vaunyogi as the Khai
Machi......
A chorus of jeers rose from the galleries and even the council tables.
Idaan held herself still and quiet. Her feet were starting to ache, but
she didn't shift her weight. The effect she desired wouldn't be served
by showing her pleasure. Adaut Kamau rose, his face gray and pinched. He
opened his arms, but before he could speak, a bundle of rough cloth
arced from the highest gallery. A long tail of brown fluttered behind it