"I wanted your help," he said. "There's a woman. She was my lover once.
When I told her ... when I told her about my family, my past, she turned
me out. She was afraid that knowing me would put her and the people she
was responsible for in danger."
"She's wise, then," Maati said.
"I hoped you would help me protect her," Otah said. His heart was a lump
of cold lead. "Perhaps that was optimistic."
Maati laughed. The sound was hollow.
"And how would I do that?" Maati asked. "Kill your brothers for you?
Tell the Khai that the Dai-kvo had decreed that she was not to be
harmed? I don't have that power. I don't have any power at all. This was
my chance at redemption. They called upon me to hunt you because I knew
your face, and I failed at that until you walked into the palaces and
asked to speak with me."
"Go to my father with me. I refused the brand, but I won't now. I'll
renounce my claim to the chair in front of anyone he wants, only don't
let him kill me before I do it."
Maati looked across at him. The sparrow returned for a moment to perch
between them.
"It won't work," he said. "Renunciation isn't a simple thing, and once
you've stepped outside of form, stepping back in ..."
"But ..."
"They won't believe you. And even if they did, they'd still fear you
enough to see you dead."
Otah took a deep breath, and then slowly let it out, letting his head
sink into his hands. The air itself seemed to have grown heavier,
thicker. It had been a mad hope, and even in its failure, at least Kiyan
would be safe. It was past time, perhaps, that people stopped paying
prices for knowing him.
He could feel himself shaking. When he sat, his hands were perfectly
still, though he could still feel the trembling in them.
"So what are you going to do?" Otah asked.
"In a moment, I'm going to call in the armsmen that are waiting outside
that door," Maati said, his voice deceptively calm. He was trembling as
well. "I am going to bring you before the Khai, who will at some point
decide either that you are a murderer who has killed his son Biitrah and
put you to the sword, or else a legitimate child of Machi who should be
set loose for one of your older brothers to kill. I will speak on your
behalf, and any evidence I can find that suggests Biitrah's murder
wasn't your work, I will present."
"Well, thank you for that, at least."
"Don't," Maati said. "I'm doing it because it's true. If I thought you'd
arranged it, I'd have said that."
"Loyalty to the truth isn't something to throw out either."
Maati took a pose that accepted the gratitude, and then dropped his
hands to his sides.
"There's something you should know," Otah said. "It might ... it seems
to be your business. When I was in the islands, after Saraykeht, there
was a woman. Not Maj. Another woman. I shared a bed with her for two,