said, his voice carrying the ritual phrases through the hall. Even with
his hack turned, the whisperers had little need to speak. "I place
myself before you and ask your permission. I would take Idaan, your
blood issue, to be my wife. If it does not please you, please only say
so, and accept my apology."
"I am not displeased," her father said.
"Will you grant me this, most high?"
Idaan waited to hear her father accept, to hear the ritual complete
itself. The silence stretched, profound and horrible. Idaan felt her
heart begin to race, fear rising up in her blood. Something had
happened; Oshai had broken. Idaan looked up, prepared to see armsmen
descending upon them. But instead, she saw her father bent close to
Adrah-so close their foreheads almost touched. There were tears on the
sunken cheeks. The formal reserve and dignity was gone. The Khai was
gone. All that remained was a desperately ill man in robes too gaudy for
a sick house.
"Will you make her happy? I would have one of my children be happy."
Adrah's mouth opened and shut like a fish pulled from the river. Idaan
closed her eyes, but she could not stop her ears.
"I ... most high, I will do ... Yes. I will."
Idaan felt her own tears forcing their way into her eyes like traitors.
She hit her lip until she tasted blood.
"Let it be known," her father said, "that I have authorized this match.
Let the blood of the Khai Maehi enter again into House Vaunyogi. And let
all who honor the Khaiem respect this transfer and join in our
celebration. The ceremony shall be held in thirty-four days, on the
opening of summer."
The whisperers began, but the hush of their voices was quickly drowned
out by cheering and applause. Idaan raised her head and smiled as if the
smears on her cheeks were from joy. Every man and woman in the chamber
had risen. She turned to them and took a pose of thanks, and then to
Adrah and his father, and then, finally, to her own. He was still
weeping-a show of weakness that the gossips and hackbiters of the court
would be chewing over for days. But his smile was so genuine, so
hopeful, that Idaan could do nothing but love him and taste ashes.
"Thank you, most high," she said. He bowed his head, as if honoring her.
The Khai Nlachi left the dais first, attended by servants who lifted him
into his litter and others who bore him away. "I 'hen Idaan herself
retreated. The others would escape according to the status of their
families and their standing within them. It would be a hand and a half
before the chamber was completely empty. Idaan strode along white marble
corridors to a retiring room, sent away her servants, locked the door
and sobbed until her heart was empty again. Then she washed her face in
cool water from her basin, arrayed her kohl and blush, whitener and lip
rouge before a mirror and carefully made a mask of her skin.
There would be talk, of course. Even without her father's unseemly
display of humanity-and she hated them all for the laughter and
amusement that would occasion-there would be enough to pick apart. The
strength of Adrah's voice would be commented on. The way in which he