The night candle had burned through three of its smallest marks when he
abandoned his bed, pulled on his robes, and left his private chambers
for the wide, arched galleries of the tunnels below the palaces. The
bathhouses were at least warm. If he wasn't to sleep, he could at least
be miserable in comfort.
The public spaces were surprisingly full with men and women in the
glorious robes of the utkhaiem. It made sense, he supposed. Cetani had
not only brought its merchants and craftsmen. There would be two courts
living tinder the palaces this winter. And so twice the social intrigue.
Who precisely was sleeping with whom would he even more complex, and
even the threat of their death at the hands of a Galtic army wouldn't
stop the courtiers playing for rank.
As he passed, the utkhaiem took poses of respect and welcome, the
servants and slaves ones of abasement. hlaati repressed a swelling
hatred of all of them. It wasn't their fault, after all, that he had to
save them. And himself. And Liat and Nayiit and Otah and all the people
he had ever known, all the cities he had ever seen. His world, and
everything in it.
It was the Galts who deserved his anger. And they would feel it, by Al
the gods. Failed crops, gelded men, and barren women until they rebuilt
everything they'd broken and given back everything they took. If he
could only think of a better way to say removing.
I Ic brooded his way along the dim galleries and through the great
chambers until the air began to thicken with the first presentiment of
steam, and the prospect of hot water, and of finally warming his chilled
feet, intruded on him.
Ic found his way into the men's changing rooms, where he shrugged off
his robes and hoots and let the servant offer him a howl of clear, cold
water to drink before he went into the public baths and sweated it all
out again. When he passed through the inner door, Maati shivered at the
warmth. Voiccs filled the dim, gray space-conversations between people
made invisible by the steam rising from the water. "There had been a
time, Maati considered as he stepped gingerly down the submerged stairs
and waded toward a low bench, when the idea of strangers wandering naked
in the baths-men and women together-had held some erotic frisson. "Truth
often disappoints.
Ic lowered himself to the thick, water-logged wood of the bench, the hot
water rising past his belly, past his chest, until the small warm waves
danced against the hollow of his throat. At last, his feet felt warm,
and he leaned back against the warm stone, sighing with a purely
physical contentment. He resolved to move down toward the warmer end
before he went back to his rooms. If he boiled himself thoroughly
enough, he might even carry the heat back to his bed.
Across the bath, hidden in the mist, two men talked of grain supplies
and how best to address the problem of rats. Far away toward the hotter
end of the bath, someone shouted, and there was a sound of splashing.
Children, Nlaati supposed, and then fell into a long, gnawing plan for
how best to move the volumes in the library. His concentration was so
profound he didn't notice v%-hen the children approached.