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The tears didn't stop, but a smile as much sorrow as otherwise touched her.
"He's my son. Who else matters?"
"He's going to be fine," Maati said, and even he heard the conviction in
his voice. "'l'he Galts will be turned hack, because I will turn them
back. Our children won't die. Theirs will. We won't go hungry. They
will. Nayiit won't be harmed, and when this is all finished with, he
won't stay here with Otah-kvo. He'll go, because he has a child of his
own in Saraykeht, and he isn't the kind of man who can walk away from that."
"Isn't he?" Hat asked. Her tone was a plea.
"Either he's Otah's son, and Otah sacrificed his freedom and his dignity
to keep I)anat and Eiah safe. Or he's mine, and you had to force me away.
"Or he's mine," Liat said. "Then what becomes of him?"
""Then he'll be beautiful and lovely beyond all mortals, and age
gracefully into wisdom. And he'll love his child the way you love him,"
Maati said. "Silly question."
Liat couldn't help but laugh. Maati rose and took her in his arms. She
smelled of tears-wet and salt and flesh. Like blood without the iron. He
kissed the crown of her bowed head.
"We'll he fine," he said. "I know what to do. Cehmai's here to help me,
and Otah's bought us the time we need. Nothing bad will happen."
"It will," Liat said into his shoulder, and then with something that
sounded like hope and surrender, "Only make it happen to someone else."
"They stood in silence for a while. Maati felt the warmth of Liat's body
against him. They had held each other so many times over the years. In
lust and shame, in love and pleasure. In sorrow. Even in anger. He knew
the feel of her, the sound of her breath, the way her hand curled round
his shoulder. "There was no one in the world who he would ever be able
to speak with the way he spoke to her. They knew things between them
that even Otah could never share-moments in Saraykeht, and after. It
wasn't only the great moments-the birth of Nayiit, the death of Heshai,
their own last parting; there were also the small ones. The time she'd
gotten ill on crab soup and he'd nursed her and cared for the still
squalling Nayiit. The flute player with the dancing dog they'd given a
length of silver at a firekeeper's kiln in Yalakeht. The way the autumn
came to Saravkeht when they were still young.
When she left again, there would he no one to talk to about those
things. When she went to the South again and he became the new I)aikvo,
there would he no one to remind him of those moments. It made them more
precious. It made her more precious.
"I'll protect you," he said. "Don't worry, love. I'll protect us all."
lie heard approaching footsteps, and he could feel it in Liat's body
when she did as well. She stepped hack, and he let her, but he kept hold
of one hand. Even if only for a moment. An urgent knock came at the
door, and Cehmai's voice.
"N1aati-kvo!"
"Come in. Come in. What's the matter?"
The poet's face was flushed, his eyes wide. It took a moment for him to
catch his breath before he could speak.
"'I'he Khai says you should come. Now," Cehmai gasped. "Sinja's hack."