Sinja felt his mind start to spin. The rice wine made it a bit harder to
think, but a hit easier to grin. It was ridiculous, except that it made
sense. Ile should have anticipated this. I Ie should have known.
"You want to send me in? As a spy?"
"'lake a couple good horses in the morning, and ride hard for the city,"
Eustin said. "You'll arrive a few days ahead of us. You were the Khai's
advisor before. I Ie'Il listen to you, or at least let you listen to
him. When the time conies for the attack, you guide us."
The captain made a small gesture with one hand, as if what he'd said was
simple. Go into Nlachi, betray Otah and everyone else he'd known this
last decade. If I turn against the general, Sinja thought, it'll he a
bad death when these men find me.
"It will be faster this way," I3alasar said. "hewer people will die on
both sides. And, because you ask, the woman is yours. Safe and unharmed
if I can do it."
"I have your word on that Sinja asked.
Balasar took a pose that accepted an oath. It wasn't quite the right
vocabulary, but it carried the meaning. Sinja felt unpleasantly like he
was looking down over a cliff. His head swam a little, and the tightness
in his body fell to knotting his gut. He held out his bowl and Balasar
refilled it.
"I'll understand if it's too much," Balasar said, his voice soft. "It
will make things easier for both sides and it won't change the way the
battle falls, but that doesn't mean it isn't a terrible thing to ask of
you. 'lake a few days to sit with it if you'd like."
"No," Sinja said. "I don't need time. I'll do the thing."
"You're sure?" Eustin asked.
Sinja drained his cup in a gulp. He could feel the flush starting to
grow in his neck and cheeks, the nausea starting in his belly and the
back of his throat. It was strong wine and a had night coming.
"It needs doing, and it's the price I asked," Sinja said. "So I'll do it."
(.EIIMAI SA"l' FORWARD IN Ills CIIAIR. THE, Wlll"1'E MARBLE WALLS OF
THEIR workspace glowed with candlelight, but Nlaati didn't find the
brightness reassuring. He was sitting as quietly as he could manage on a
red and violet embroidered cushion, waiting. Cehmai lifted one of the
wide yellow pages, paused, and turned it over. Nlaati saw the younger
poet's lips moving as he shaped sonic phrase from the papers. Nlaati
restrained himself from asking which. Interruptions wouldn't make this
go any faster.
The simple insight that Eiah had given him that night in the baths had
taken the better part of two weeks to work into a draft worthy of
consideration. Fitting the grammars so that the nuances of corruption
and continuance-destruction and creation, or more precisely the
destruction of creation-reinforced one another had been tricky. And the
extra obstacle of fitting in the structures to protect himself should
things go amiss had likely tacked on an extra three or four days to the
process.
And still, it had taken him only weeks. Not years, not even months.
Weeks. The structure of the binding was laid out now.