"One more day. I'll bite myself for one more day at least," Cehmai said.
"Come on."
The andat sighed and dropped its hand to its side. Cehmai turned east,
walking into the dim tunnels. He felt the temptation to look back, to
see whether the girl was watching his departure and if she was, what
expression she wore. He kept his eyes on the path before him and the
moment passed.
THE KHAI MACHI HAD NO OTHER NAME NOW THAT HE HAI) TAKEN HIS FAther's
office. It had been stripped from him in formal ceremony. He had
renounced it and sworn before the gods and the Emperor that he would be
nothing beyond this trust with which he had been charged. Otah had
forced his way through the ceremony, bristling at both the waste of time
and the institutional requirement that he lie in order to preserve
etiquette. Of Itani Noygu, Otah Machi, and the Khai Machi, the last was
the one least in his heart. But he was willing to pretend to have no
other self and the utkhaiem and the priests and the people of the city
were all willing to pretend to believe him. It was all like some
incredibly long, awkward, tedious game. And so when the rare occasion
arose when he could do something real, something with consequences, he
found himself enjoying it more perhaps than it deserved.
The emissary from Galt looked as if he were trying to convince himself
he'd misunderstood.
"Most high," he said, "I came here as soon as our ambassadors sent word
that they'd been expelled. It was a long journey, and winter travel's
difficult in the north. I had hoped that we could address your concerns
and ..."
Otah took a pose that commanded silence, then sat back on the black
lacquer chair that had grown no more comfortable in the months since
he'd first taken it. He switched from speaking in the Khaiate tongue to
Galtic. It seemed, if anything, to make the man more uncomfortable.
"I appreciate that the generals and lords of Gait are so interested in
... what? Addressing my concerns? And I thank you for coming so quickly,
even when I'd made it clear that you were not particularly welcome."
"I apologize, most high, if I've given offense."
"Not at all," Otah said, smiling. "Since you've come, you can do me the
favor of explaining again to the High Council how precarious their
position is with me. The Dai-kvo has been alerted to all I've learned,
and he shares my opinion and my policy."
"But I-"
"I know the role your people played in the succession. And more than
that, I know what happened in Saraykeht. Your nation survives now on my
sufferance. If word reaches me of one more intervention in the matters
of the cities of the Khaiem or the poets or the andat, I will wipe your
people from the memory of the world."
The emissary opened his mouth and closed it again, his eyes darting
about as if there was a word written somewhere on the walls that would
open the floodgates of his diplomacy. Otah let the silence press at him.
"I don't understand, most high," he managed at last.
"Then go home," Otah said, "and repeat what I've told you to your