analysis of any issue. When Kiyan died, they had been the only two men
in the world who truly understood what had been lost.
Now, only Otah knew.
"What ships remain have been set to guard the seafront at Saraykeht," he
said when he could speak again. "The thought is that winter will protect
Yalakeht and Amnat-Tan. When the thaw comes in spring, we may have to
revisit the plan."
"Are you all right, Papa-kya?"
"I'll be fine," Otah said, then he raised his hand and called the
courier close. "Tell them I read it. Tell them I understood."
The courier made his obeisance, turned his mount, and rode away. Otah
let himself sit with his grief. The other letters for him could wait.
They had come from his Master of Tides, and from others he'd named to
watch the Empire crumble in his absence. Two had been for Ana Dasin, and
he assumed they were from her parents. The letters had made their way up
from Saraykeht and then along the low roads, tracking Otah and his party
for days. And each day had marked the ending of lives, in Galt
especially, but everywhere.
He had known that Sinja might die. He'd sent the fleet out knowing it
might happen, and Sinja had gone without any illusions of safety. If it
hadn't been this and now, it would have been something else at some
other time. Every man and woman died, in time.
And in truth, death wasn't the curse he'd set out to break. All his work
and sacrifice had been only so that they could balance the constant
withering of age with some measure of renewal. He thought of his own
children: Eiah, Danat, and even long-dead Nayiit. They had each of them
been wagers he'd placed against a cruel world. A child comes into the
world, and its father holds it close and thinks, If all goes as it
should, I will die first. This one, I can love and never mourn for. That
was all he wanted to leave for Danat and Eiah. The chance of knowing a
love that they would never be called to bury. It was the world as it was
intended to be.
He didn't notice Idaan riding close to him until she spoke. Her voice
was gruff, but he imagined he could hear some offer of comfort in it.
"It's past time to shift. Crawl up on that cart and rest awhile. You've
been riding that thing for five hands together."
"Have I?" Otah said. "I didn't notice."
"I know. It's why I came," she said. After a moment's pause, she added,
"Danat told us what happened."
Otah took a pose that acknowledged having heard her, but nothing more
than that. There wasn't anything more that could be meaningfully said.
Idaan respected it and let him turn his horse aside and shift to the
steamcart where Ana Dasin and Ashti Beg sat, their sightless eyes fixed
on nothing. Otah sat on the wide boards not far from them, but not so
near that their conversation would include him. Ana laughed at something
Ashti Beg had said. The older woman looked vaguely pleased. Otah lay
back, his closed eyes flooded with the red of sun and blood. He willed
himself to sleep, certain that it would elude him.
He woke when the cart jerked to a halt. He sat up, half-thoughts of