"You're Maati Vaupathai," the moon-faced man said as they walked. "I've
heard about you."
"Nothing scandalous, I hope," Maati said.
"Speculations," the man said. "The Khaiem run on gossip and wine more
than gold or silver. My name is Oshai. It's a pleasure to meet a poet."
They turned south, leaving the smoke and cacophony behind them. As they
stepped into a smaller, quieter street, Maati looked back, half
expecting to see the looming figure in the dark robes. There was nothing.
"Rumor has it you've come to look at the library," Oshai said.
"That's truth. The Da]-kvo sent me to do research for him."
"Pity you've come at such a delicate time. Succession. It's never an
easy thing."
"It doesn't affect me," Maati said. "Court politics rarely reach the
scrolls on the back shelves."
"I hear the Khai has books that date back to the Empire. Before the war.
"He does. Some of them are older than the copies the Dai-kvo has.
Though, in all, the Dai-kvo's libraries are larger."
"He's wise to look as far afield as he can, though," Oshai said. "You
never know what you might find. Was there something in particular he
expected our Khai to have?"
"It's complex," Maati said. "No offense, it's just ..."
Oshai smiled and waved the words away. There was something odd about his
face-a weariness or an emptiness around his eyes.
"I'm sure there are many things that poets know that I can't
comprehend," the guide said. "Here, there's a faster way down through here."
Oshai moved forward, taking Maati by the elbow and leading him down a
narrow street. The houses around them were poorer than those near the
palaces or even the metalworkers' quarter. Shutters showed the splinters
of many seasons. The doors on the street level and the second-floor snow
doors both tended to have cheap leather hinges rather than worked metal.
Few people were on the street, and few windows open. Oshai seemed
perfectly at ease despite his heightened pace so Maati pushed his
uncertainty away.
"I've never been in the library myself," Oshai said. "I've heard
impressive things of it. The power of all those minds, and all that
time. It isn't something that normal men can easily conceive."
"I suppose not," Maati said, trotting to keep up. "Forgive me, Oshai-
cha, but are we near House Nan?"
"We won't be going much further," his guide said. "Just around this next
turning."
But when they made the turn, Maati found not a trading house's compound,
but a small courtyard covered in flagstone, a dry cistern at its center.
The few windows that opened onto the yard were shuttered or empty. Maati
stepped forward, confused.
"Is this ...... he began, and Oshai punched him hard in the belly. Maati
stepped back, surprised by the attack, and astounded at the man's
strength. Then he saw the blade in the guide's hand, and the blood on
it. Maati tried to hack away, but his feet caught the hem of his robe.
Oshai's face was a grimace of delight and hatred. He seemed to jump