does. If you reach the High Council, you'll have gone far enough."
"I'm sure if you'll just tell me what's happened to upset you, most
high, there must be something I can do to make it right."
Otah pressed his steepled fingers to his lips. For a moment, he
remembered Saraykeht-the feel of the poet's death struggles tinder his
own hand. He remembered the fires that had consumed the compound of the
Vaunyogi and the screams and cries of his sister as her husband and his
father met their ends.
"You can't make this right," he said, letting his weariness show in his
voice. "I wish that you could."
"But the contracts ... I can't go back without some agreement made, most
high. If you want me to take your message back, you have to leave me
enough credibility that anyone will hear it."
"I can't help you," Otah said. "Take the letter I've given you and go
home. Now."
As he turned and left the room, the letter in his hand sewn shut and
sealed, the Galt moved like a man newly awakened. At Otah's gesture, the
servants followed the emissary and pulled the great bronze doors closed
behind them, leaving him alone in the audience chamber. The pale silk
banners shifted in the slight breath of air. The charcoal in the iron
braziers glowed, orange within white. He pressed his hands to his eyes.
He was tired, terribly tired. And there was so much more to be done.
He heard the scrape of the servant's door behind him, heard the soft,
careful footsteps and the faintest jingling of mail. He rose and turned,
his robes shifting with a sound like sand on stone. Sinja took a pose of
greeting.
"You sent for me, most high?"
"I've just sent the Galts packing again," Otah said.
"I heard the last of it. Do you think they'll keep sending men to bow
and scrape at your feet? I was thinking how gratifying it must be, being
able to bully a whole nation of people you've never met."
"Actually, it isn't. I imagine news of it will have spread through the
city by nightfall. More stories of the Mad Khai."
"You aren't called that. Upstart's still the most common. After the
wedding, there was a week or so of calling you the shopkeeper's wife,
but I think it was too long. An insult can only sustain a certain number
of syllables."
"Thank you," Otah said. "I feel much better now."
"You are going to have to start caring what they think, you know. These
are people you're going to be living with for the rest of your life.
Starting off by proving how disrespectful and independent you can be is
only going to make things harder. And the Galts carry quite a few
contracts," Sinja said. "Are you sure you want me away just now? It's
traditional to have a guard close at hand when you're cultivating new
enemies.
"Yes, I want you to go. If the utkhaiem are talking about the Galts,
they may talk less about Idaan."
"You know they won't forget her. It doesn't matter what other issues you
wave at them, they'll come back to her."