like a washrag wrung out, soaked, and wrung out again. It was seven days
now since Stone-Made-Soft had escaped, and she'd spent the time either
meeting with the Khai Machi or waiting to do so. Long days spent in the
gilded halls and corridors of the palaces were, she found, more tiring
than travel. Her back ached, her legs were sore, and she couldn't even
think what she had done to earn the pain. Sitting shouldn't carry such a
price. If she'd lifted something heavy, there would at least be a reason....
The city seemed darker now than when she'd arrived. It might be only her
imagination, but there seemed fewer lanterns lit on the paths, fewer
torches at the doorways. The windows of the palaces that shone with
light seemed dimmed. No slaves sang in the gardens, the mem hers of the
utkhaiem that she saw throughout her day all shared a tension that she
understood too well.
Candles flickered behind Maati's closed shutters, a thin line of light
where the wooden frames had warped over the years. Liat found herself
more grateful than she had expected to be as she took the last steps
down the path that led to his door.
Nlaati sat on the low couch, a bowl of wine cradled in his fingers. A
bottle less than half full sat on the floor at his feet. He smiled as
she let herself in, but she saw at once that something wasn't well. She
took a pose of query, and he looked away.
"hlaati-kya?"
"I've had a letter from the Dai-kvo," hlaati said. "The timing of all
this isn't what I'd hoped, you know. I've spent years puttering through
the library here, looking for nothing in particular, and only stumbled
on my little insight now. Just when the Galts have gotten out of hand.
And now Cehmai. And ... forgive me, love, and you. And our boy."
"I don't understand," Liat said. "'['he I)ai-kvo. What did he say?"
"Ile said that I should come." Maati sighed. "There's nothing in the
letter about the Galts or the missing poet. "There's nothing about
StoneMade-Soft, of course. The courier won't be there with that sorry
news for days yet. It's only about me. It's the thing I'd always hoped
for. It's my absolution, Liat-kya. I have been out of favor since before
Nayiit was horn. After I took Otah's cause in the succession, they
almost forbade me from wearing the robes, you know. The old Dai-kvo made
it very clear he didn't consider me a poet."
Liat leaned against the cool stone wall. Her pains were forgotten. She
watched Maati raise his brows, shake his head. His lips shifted as if he
were having some silent conversation to which she was only half welcome.
A familiar heaviness touched her heart.
"You must have hoped for this," she said.
"[)reamed of it, when I dared to. I'm welcomed back with honor and
dignity. I'm saved."
""That's a hitter tone for a saved man," she said.
"I've only just met you again. I've only just started to know Nayiit.
And Otah-kvo's in need. And the Galts are stirring trouble again. My
shining hour has come to call me away from everyone who actually matters."
"You can't refuse the I)ai-kvo," Liat said softly. "You have to go."
"Do I?"