It sounded like dismissal to Balasar. He rose, bowing to the poet.
"I will send my most trusted servant," he said. "Should anything more
arise, only send word, and I will see it done."
Riaan smiled condescendingly and nodded his head. But as Balasar was
just leaving the garden, the poet called his name. A cloud had come over
the man, some ghost of uncertainty that had not risen from the prospect
of binding.
"Your men," the poet said. "They have been instructed that my family is
not to be touched, yes?"
"Of course," Balasar said.
"And the library. The city is, of course, yours to do with as you see
fit, but without the libraries of the Khaiem, binding a second andat
will be much more difficult. They aren't to be entered by any man but me."
"Of course," Balasar said again, and the poet took a pose accepting his
assurances. The concern didn't leave Riaan's brow, though. So perhaps
the man wasn't quite as dim as he seemed. Balasar told himself, as he
strode hack through the covered pathways to his own rooms, that he would
have to be more careful with him in the future. Not that there was much
future for him. Win or lose, Riaan was a dead man.
The day seemed more real than the ones that had come before it: the
sunlight clearer, the air more alive with the scents of flowers and
sewage and grass. The stones of the walls seemed more interesting, the
subtle differences in color and texture clear where previous days had
made them only a field of gray. Even Balasar's body hummed with energy.
It was like being a boy again, and diving into the lake from the highest
cliff-the one all the other boys feared to jump from. It was dread and
joy and the sense of no longer being able to take his decision hack. It
was what Balasar lived for. He knew already that he would not sleep.
Eustin was waiting for him in the entrance hall.
"There's someone wants a word with you, sir."
Balasar paused.
his men." "° The Khaiate captain. He wanted to speak about fallback
plans for
Eustin nodded to a side room. There was distrust in his expression, and
Balasar waited a long moment for him to speak. Eustin added nothing.
Balasar went to the wide, dark oaken door, knocked once, and went in. It
was a preparation room for servants-muddy boots cast beside benches and
waiting to be scraped clean, cloaks of all weights and colors hung from
pegs. It smelled of wet dog, though there was no animal present. The
captain sat on a stool tilted hack against the wall, cleaning his nails
with a knife.
"Captain Ajutani," Balasar said.
The stool came down, and the captain rose, sheathing his blade and
bowing in the same motion.
"I appreciate the time, General," he said. "I know you've a great deal
on your mind just now."
"I'm always available," Balasar said. "Though the surroundings are...
"Yes. Your man Eustin seemed to think it more appropriate for me to wait
here. I'm not sure he likes me." The captain was more amused than