"Get the men ready," Otah said. "We'll give Cetani tomorrow to join us.
After that, we'll head home. With enough time, we might be able to tear
up some sections of the road behind us. Slow down the Galts, even if we
can't do all we hoped against them."
"What about the hooks?" Saya asked. "If their poet's dead, it isn't as
if they'll have need of them. Perhaps ours would make something of them."
"I can ask," Otah said. "With luck, we'll have the books and the people
and the food stores."
"But the Khai refused you, Most High," Sava said.
Otah smiled and shook his head. Only now that he found himself a moment
to rest did the weariness drag at him. He tried to think how many days
he'd been riding from first light to last. A lifetime, it felt like. He
remembered the man who'd left Machi to save the I)ai-kvo, but it no
longer felt like something he'd done himself. He was changing. Ills
heart still ached at the thought of Kiyan and F,iah and I)anat. His
apprehension at the struggle still before him was no less. And still, he
was not the man he had once been, and to his surprise and unease, the
man he was becoming seemed quite natural.
"Most High?" Saya repeated.
"Walking away from a negotiation isn't the same as ending it," Otah
said. "Cetani's proud and he's lost, but he's not a fool. He wants to do
what we're asking of him. He just hasn't found the way to say yes."
"\ou sound sure of that," Saya said.
Otah chose his words carefully.
"If someone had come to me after that battle and said that they knew
what to do, that they would take the responsibility, I would have given
it to them. And that's just what I've offered him," Utah said. "The Khai
Cetani will call for me. Tonight."
He was wrong. The Khai Cetani didn't send for him until the next morning.
The man's eyes were bloodshot, his face slack from worry and exhaustion.
Utah doubted the Khai Cetani had slept since they had spoken, and
perhaps not for days before that. Through the wide, unshuttered windows,
the morning was cold and gray, low clouds seeming to bring the sky no
higher than a sparrow might fly. Utah sat on the divan set for him-rich
velvet cloth studded with tiny pearls and silver thread, but smelling of
dust and age. The most powerful man in Cetani sat across from him on an
identical seat. That alone was a concession, and Utah noted it without
giving sign one way or the other.
The Khai Cetani motioned the servants to leave them. From the hesitation
and surprised glances, Otah took it that he'd rarely done so before.
Some men, he supposed, were more comfortable with the constant attention.
"Convince me," the Khai Cetani said when the doors were pulled closed
and they were alone.
Otah took a pose of query.
"That you're right," the Khai said. "Convince me that you're right."
"There was a hunger in the request, almost a need. Otah took a deep
breath and let it out slowly. The fire in the grate popped and shifted
while he gathered his thoughts. He had turned his plans over in his mind
since he'd left the ruin of the I)ai-kvo's village. He'd honed them and