cheeks. Otah felt a momentary pang of sorrow. Sinja hadn't seen it.
Kiyan hadn't. He took a deep breath and reminded himself that the moment
wasn't his. The celebration was not of his life or his love or the
binding of his house to a wayhouse keeper from Udun. It was Danat's and
Ana's, and they at least were transcendent.
The rest of the ceremony took twice as long as it should have, and by
the time the procession was ready to carry them out and through the
streets of Utani, the sunset was no more than a memory.
Otah allowed himself to be ushered to a high balcony that looked down
upon the city. The air was bitterly cold, but a cast-iron brazier was
hauled out, coals already bright red so that Otah could feel the searing
heat to his left while his right side froze. He huddled in a thick wool
blanket, following the wedding procession with his eyes. Each street
they turned down lit itself, banners and streamers of cloth arcing
through the air.
Here is where it begins, he thought. And then, Thank all the gods it
isn't me down there.
A servant girl stepped onto the balcony and took a pose that announced a
guest. Otah wasn't about to stick his hands out of the blanket.
"Who?"
"Farrer Dasin-cha," the girl said.
"Bring him here," Otah said. "And some wine. Hot wine."
The girl took a pose that accepted the charge and turned to go.
"Wait," Otah said. "What's your name?"
"Toyani Vauatan, Most High," she said.
"How old are you?"
"Twenty summers."
Otah nodded. In truth, she looked almost too young to be out of the
nursery. And yet at her age, he had been on a ship halfway to the
eastern islands, two different lives already behind him. He pointed out
at the city.
"It's a different world now, Toyani-cha. Nothing's going to stay as it was.
The girl smiled and took a pose that offered congratulations. Of course
she didn't understand. It was unfair to expect her to. Otah smiled and
turned back to the city, the celebration. He didn't see when she left.
The wedding procession had just turned down the long, wide road that led
to the riverfront when Farrer stepped out, the girl Toyani behind them
bearing two bowls of wine that plumed with steam and a chair for the
newcomer without seeming awkward or out of place. It was, Otah supposed,
an art.
"We've done it," Fatter said when the girl had gone.
"We have," Otah agreed. "Not that I've stopped waiting for the next
catastrophe."
"I think the last one will do."
Otah sipped his wine. The spirit hadn't quite been cooked out of it, and
the spices tasted rich and strange. He had been dreading this
conversation, but now that it had come, it wasn't as awful as he'd feared.
"The report's come," Otah said.
"The first one, yes. Everyone on the High Council had a copy this