"Yes, well . . ." Otah shook his head and sipped from the howl. It was
strong wine, and it left his mouth feeling clean and his chest warm.
"It's time we spoke about Nayiit."
Liat nodded, took a long drink, and held the cup out for more. Otah poured.
"It's all my fault," she said as she sat hack. "I should never have
brought him here. I never saw it. I never saw you in him. He was always
just himself. If I'd known that ... that he resembled you quite so
closely, I wouldn't have."
"Late for that," Otah said.
Liat sighed her agreement and looked up at him. It was hard to believe
that they had been lovers once. The girl he had known hack then hadn't
had gray in her hair, weariness in her eyes. And the boy he'd been was
as distant as snow in summer. Yes, two people had kissed once, had
touched each other, had created a child who had grown to manhood. And
Otah remembered some of those moments nowshowering at the barracks while
she spoke to him, the ink blocks at the desk in her cell at the compound
of House Wilsin, the feel of a young body pressed against his own, when
his flesh had also been new and unmarked. If those days long past had
been foolish or wrong, the only evidence was the price they both paid
now. It hadn't seemed so at the time.
"I've been thinking of it," Liat said. "I haven't told him. I wasn't
sure how you wanted to address the problem. But I think the wisest thing
to do is to speak with him and with Maati, and then have Nayiitkya take
the brand. I know it's not something done with firstborn sons, but it's
still a repudiation of his right to become Khai. It will make it clear
to the world that he doesn't have designs on your chair."
"'T'hat isn't what I'd choose," Otah said. His words were slow and
careful. "I'm afraid my son may die."
She caught her breath. It was hardly there, no more than a tremor in the
air she took in, but he heard it.
"Itani," she said, using the name of the boy he'd been in Saraykeht,
"please. I'll swear on anything you choose. Nayiit's no threat to Danat.
It was only the Galts that brought us here. I'm not looking to put my
son in your chair...."
Otah put down his bowl and took a pose that asked for her silence. Her
face pale, she went quiet.
"I don't mean that," he said softly. "I mean that I don't ... Gods. I
don't know how to say this. Danat's not well. His lungs are fragile, and
the winters here are bad. We lose people to the cold every year. Not
just the old or the weak. Young people. Healthy ones. I'm afraid that
Danat may dic, and there'll be no one to take my place. The city would
tear itself apart."
"But ... you want ..."
"I haven't done a good job as Khai. I haven't been able to put the
houses of the utkhaiem together except in their distrust of me and
resentment of Kiyan. There's been twice it came near violence, and I
only held the city in place by luck. But keeping Machi safe is my
responsibility. I want Nayiit unbranded, in case ... in case he becomes
my successor.