"He ends by saying that he loves you. And that he trusts you to do
what's right."
"You're lying," Ana said.
Otah took a pose that denied an unjust accusation, then flapped his
hands in annoyance. The physical language of the Khaiem was a difficult
habit to put aside.
"Why would I lie?" he asked.
"To be polite? I don't know But my father? Fatter Dasin putting on paper
that he trusts his little girl's judgment? The stars would dance on
treetops first. The wed-and-pregnant part sounded like him, though."
"Well," Otah said, placing the folded page into her fingers. "He might
surprise you. Keep this, and you can read it for yourself once we've
fixed all this mess."
Ana took a pose that offered thanks. It wasn't particularly well done.
"You are always welcome," Otah said.
They sat in silence until Danat and the other water bearers returned.
Then Otah left his seat to Danat and crawled into the sleeping tent,
where, true to expectations, he shifted from discomfort to discomfort
until the sun rose again.
They reached Pathai at midday. Silk banners streamed from the towers and
the throng that met them at the western arch cheered and sang and played
flutes and drums. Men and women hung from lattices of wood and rope to
get a better view of Otah and Danat, their armsmen, the steamcarts. The
air was thick with the scents of honeyed almonds and mulled wine and
bodies. The armsmen of Pathai met them, made an elaborate ritual
obeisance, and then cleared a path for them until they reached the palaces.
A feast had been prepared, and baths. Servants descended on the group
like moths, and Otah submitted to being only emperor once again.
The celebration of his arrival was as annoying as it was pointless. Dish
after dish of savory meat and sweet bread, hot curry and chilled fish,
all accompanied by the best acrobats and musicians that could be scraped
together with little notice. And Ana Dasin sitting at his table, her
empty eyes a constant, unintentional reproach. Finding Maati and this
new poet was going to be like hunting quail with a circus. He would have
to do something to let them move discreetly. He didn't yet know what
that would be.
The rooms he'd been given were blond stone, the ceiling vaulted and set
with tiles of indigo and silver. A thousand candles set the air glowing
and filled his senses with the scent of hot wax and perfume. It was, he
thought, the sort of space that was almost impossible to keep warm.
Danat, Ana, and the armsmen were all being seen to elsewhere. He sat on
a long, low couch and hoped that Danat, at least, would be able to get
out into the city and make a few inquiries.
When a servant came and announced Sian Noygu, Otah almost refused the
audience before he recognized it as the name Idaan traveled under. His
heart racing, he let himself be led to a smaller chamber of carved
granite and worked gold. His sister sat between a small fountain and a
shadowed alcove. She wore a gray robe under a colorless cloak, and her
boots were soft with wear. A long scratch across the back of her hand