eyes with the sleeve of his robe and went down to the main room. The
members of his 'van were all there and half a dozen other men besides.
The air smelled of hot wine and roast lamb, pine trees and smoke. Otah
sat at a rough, worn table beside one of the drivers and watched.
The singer was the keep himself, a pot-bellied man with a nose that had
been broken and badly set. He drew the deep heat from a skin and
earthenware drum as he sang. His wife was shapely as a potato with an
ugly face and a missing eye tooth, but their voices were well suited and
their affection for each other forgave them much. Otah found himself
tapping his fingertips against the table to match the drumbeats.
His mind went back to Kiyan, and the nights of music and stories and
gossip he had spent in her wayhouse, far away to the south. He wondered
what she was doing tonight, what music filled the warm air and competed
with the murmur of the river.
When the last note had faded to silence, the crowd applauded, yelped,
and howled their appreciation. Otah made his way to the singer-he was
shorter than Otah had thought-and took his hand. The keeper beamed and
blushed when Otah told him how good the music had been.
"We've had a few years practice, and there's only so much to do when the
days are short," the keep said. "The winter choirs in Machi make us
sound like street beggars."
Otah smiled, regret pulling at him that he would never hear those songs,
and a moment later he heard his name being spoken.
"Itani Noygu's what he was calling himself," one of the merchants said.
"Played a courier for House Siyanti."
"I think I met him," a man said whom Otah had never met. "I knew there
was something odd about the man."
"And the poet ... the one that had his belly opened for him? He's
picking the other Siyanti men apart like they were baked fish. The
upstart has to wish that job had been done right the first time."
"Sounds as if I've missed something," Otah said, putting on his most
charming smile. "What's this about a poet's belly?"
The merchant frowned at the interruption until Otah motioned to the
keep's wife and bought bowls of hot wine for the table. After that, the
gossip flowed more freely.
Maati Vaupathai had been attacked, and the common wisdom held that Otah
had arranged it. The most likely version was that the upstart had been
passing as a courier, but others said that he had made his way into the
palaces dressed as a servant or a meat seller. There was no question,
though, that the Khai had sent out runners to all the winter cities
asking for the couriers and overseers of House Siyanti to attend him at
court. Amiit Foss, the man who'd been the upstart's overseer in tldun,
was being summoned in particular. It wasn't clear yet whether Siyanti
had knowingly backed the Otah Machi, but if they had, it would mean the
end of their expansion into the north. Even if they hadn't, the house
would suffer.
"And they're sure he was the one who had the poet killed?" Otah asked,
using all the skill the gentleman's trade had taught him to hide his
deepening despair and disgust.