under Heshai-kvo and the andat Removing-the-Part-ThatContinues. Otah-kvo
was living under an assumed name at the time, working as a laborer on
the docks."
"And you recognized him?"
"I did," Maati said.
"And yet you did not denounce him?" The old man's voice wasn't angry.
Maati had expected anger. Outrage, perhaps. What he heard instead was
gentler and more penetrating. When he looked up, the redrimmed eyes were
very much like Otah-kvo's. Even if he had not known before, those eyes
would have told him that this man was Otah's father. He wondered briefly
what his own father's eyes had looked like and whether his resembled
them, then forced his mind back to the matter at hand.
"I did not, most high. I regarded him as my teacher, and ... and I
wished to understand the choices he had made. We became friends for a
time. Before the death of the poet took me from the city."
"And do you call him your teacher still? You call him Otah-kvo. That is
a title for a teacher, is it not?"
Maati blushed. He hadn't realized until then that he was doing it.
"An old habit, most high. I was sixteen when I last saw Otah-cha. I'm
thirty now. It has been almost half my life since I have spoken with
him. I think of him as a person I once knew who told me some things I
found of use at the time," Maati said, and sensing that the falsehood of
those words might be clear, he continued with some that were more nearly
true. "My loyalty is to the Dai-kvo."
"That is good," the Khai Machi said. "Tell me, then. How will you
conduct this examination of my city?"
"I am here to study the library of Machi," Maati said. "I will spend my
mornings there, most high. After midday and in the evenings I will move
through the city. I think ... I think that if Otah-kvo is here it will
not be difficult to find him."
The gray, thin lips smiled. Maati thought there was condescension in
them. Perhaps even pity. He felt a blush rise in his cheeks, but kept
his face still. He knew how he must appear to the Khai's weary eyes, but
he would not flinch and confirm the man's worst suspicions. He swallowed
once to loosen his throat.
"You have great faith in yourself," the Khai Machi said. "You come to my
city for the first time. You know nothing of its streets and tunnels,
little of its history, and you say that finding my missing son will be
easy for you."
"Rather, most high, I will make it easy for him to find me."
It might have been his imagination-he knew from experience that he was
prone to see his own fears and hopes in other people instead of what was
truly there-but Maati thought there might have been a flicker of
approval on the old man's face.
"You will report to me," the Khai said. "When you find him, you will
come to me before anyone else, and I will send word to the Dai-kvo."
"As you command, most high," Maati lied. He had said that his loyalty
lay with the Dal-hvo, but there was no advantage he could see to
explaining all that meant here and now.