But perhaps that was only his own wish that things could change and
still be the same.
"You look tired," she said, leading him down a long flight of smnooth-
worn granite stairs. "How long have you been traveling?"
"I left the Dai-kvo before Candles Night," he said.
"You still dress like a poet," she said, gently. So she knew.
"The Dai-kvo agreed to Otah-kvo's proposal. I'm not formally removed so
long as I don't appear in public ceremony in my poet's robes. I'm not
permitted to live in a poet's house or present myself in any way as
carrying the authority of the Dal-kvo."
"And Cehmai?"
"Cehmai's had some admonishing letters, I think. But I took the worst of
it. It was easier that way, and I don't mind so much as I might have
when I was younger."
The doors at the stairway's end stood open. They had descended below the
level of the street, even under its burden of snow, and the candlelit
tunnel before them seemed almost hot. His breath had stopped ghosting.
"I'm sorry for that," Kiyan said, leading the way. "It seems wrong that
you should suffer for doing the right thing."
"I'm not suffering," Maati said. "Not as badly as I did when I was in
the Dai-kvo's good graces, at least. The more I see of the honors I was
offered, the better I feel about having lost them."
She chuckled.
The passageway glowed gold. A high, vaulted arch above them was covered
with tiles that reflected the light hack into the air where it hung like
pollen. An echo of song came from a great distance, the words blurred by
the tunnels. And then the melody was joined and the whispering voices of
the gods seemed to touch the air. Maati's steps faltered, and Kiyan
turned to look at him and then followed his gaze into the air.
"The winter choir," she said. Her voice was suddenly smaller, sharing
his awe. "There are a lot of idle hands in the colder seasons. Music
becomes more important, I think, when things are cold and dark."
"It's beautiful," Maati said. "I knew there were tunnels, but ..."
"It's another city," Kiyan said. "Think how I feel. I didn't know half
the depth of it until I was supposed to help rule it."
They began walking again, their words rising above the song.
"How is he?"
"Not idle," she said with both amusement and melancholy in her tone.
"He's been working until he's half exhausted every day and then getting
up early. There's a thousand critical things that he's called on to do,
and a thousand more that are nothing more than ceremony that only
swallow his time. It makes him cranky. He'll be angry that he wasn't
free to meet you, but it will help that I could. "That's the best I can
do these days. Make sure that the things most important to him are seen
to while he's off making sure the city doesn't fall into chaos."
"I'd think it would be able to grind on without him for a time just from
habit," Maati said.
"Politics takes all the time you can give it," Kiyan said with distaste.
They walked through a wide gate and into a great subterranean hall. A