Otah could still think of several objections to that, but he held them
hack, gesturing instead for Liat to go on.
"No one connected the disappearance with a Galtic merchant ship that
left that night with half her cargo still waiting to he loaded," Liat
said. "Except me, and I wouldn't have if I hadn't made it my business to
track all things Galtic."
"You think he was on that ship?" Otah said.
"I'm certain of it."
"Why?" he asked.
"The wealth of coincidences," Liat said. "The captain-Arnau Fentin-was
the second brother of a family on the Galtic High Council. A servant in
the Vaudathat household saw Riaan's father burning papers. Letters, he
said. And in a foreign script."
"Any trade cipher could look like a foreign script," Otah said, but Liat
wouldn't be stopped.
"The ship had been hound for Chaburi-"Ian and then Bakta. But it headed
west instead-hack to Galt."
"Or Eddensea, or Eymond."
"Otah-kya," Kiyan said, her voice gentle, "let her finish."
Ile saw Liat's gaze flicker toward her, and her hands take a pose of
thanks. He leaned hack, his palms flat on his thighs, and silently
nodded for Liat to continue.
"There were stories of Riaan having met a new woman in the weeks before
he left. That was what his family thought, at least. He'd spent several
evenings every week at a comfort house whose hack wall was shared with
the compound of House Fentin. The captain's family. I have statements
that confirm all of this."
"I went to the comfort house myself," Nayiit said. "I asked after the
lady Riaan had described. "There wasn't anyone like her."
"It was a clumsy lie," Liat said. "All of it from beginning to end. And,
Itani, it's the Galts."
Whether she had used his old, assumed name in error or as a ploy to make
him recall the days of his youth, the effect was the same. Otah drew a
deep breath, and felt a sick weight descend to his belly as he exhaled.
He had spent so many years wary of the schemes of Galt that her
evidence, thin as it was, almost had the power to convince him. He felt
the gazes of the others upon him. Mlaati leaned forward in his seat,
fingers knotted together in his lap. Kiyan's rueful half-smile was
sympathetic and considering both. The silence stretched.
"Is there any reason to think he would have ... done this?" Otah asked.
""I'he poet. Why would he agree to this?"
Liat turned and nodded to her son. The man licked his lips before he spoke.
"I went to the I)ai-kvo's village," Nayiit said. "My mother, of course,
couldn't. "There were stories that Riaan had suffered a fever the winter
before he was sent away. A serious one. Apparently he came close to
death. Afterward, his skin peeled like he'd been too long in the sun.
They say it changed him. He became more prone to anger. He wouldn't
think before he acted or spoke. The Dai-kvo sat with him for weeks,
training him like he was fresh from the school. It did no good. Riaan