time, but I suppose it gives us all more reason to get sloppy drunk and
weep into our cups."
Otah took a pose of query simple enough for the Galt to follow.
"Every city is in ruins except for Kirinton. They did something clever
there with street callers and string. I don't fully understand it. The
outlying areas suffered, though not quite as badly. The first guesses
are that it will take two generations just to put us back where we were."
"Assuming nothing else happens," Otah said. Below, a fanfare was blaring.
"You mean Eymond," Farrer said. "They're a problem, it's true."
"Eymond. Eddensea, the Westlands. Anyone, really."
"If we had the andat..
"We don't," Otah said.
"No, I suppose not," Farrer said, sourly. "But to the point, how many of
us are aware of that fact?"
In the dim light of the brazier's coals, Farrer's face was the same
dusky red as the moon in eclipse. The Galt smiled, pleased that he had
taken Otah by surprise.
"You and I know. The High Council. That half-bastard council you put
together when you headed out into the wilderness. Ana. Danat. A few
armsmen. All in all, I'd guess not more than three dozen people actually
know what happened. And none of them is at present working for Eymond."
"You're saying we should pretend to have an andat?"
"Not precisely," Fatter said. "As many people as already know, the story
will come out eventually. But there might be a way to present it that
still gave other nations pause. Send out letters of embassage that say
the andat, though recovered, have been set aside and deny the rumors
that certain deaths and odd occurrences are at all related to a new poet
under the direction of the Empire."
"What deaths?"
"Don't be too specific about that," Farrer said. "I expect they'll
supply the details."
"Let them think ... that we have the andat and are hiding the fact?"
Otah laughed.
"It won't last forever, but the longer we can stall them, the better
prepared we'll be when they come."
"And they do always come," Otah said. "Clever thought. It costs us
nothing. It could gain us a great deal. Issandra?"
Farrer leaned back in his chair, setting his heels on the parapet and
looking up at the stars, the full, heavy moon. For the space of a
heartbeat, he looked forlorn. He drank his wine and looked over at Otah.
"My wife is an amazing woman," he said. "I'm fortunate to have her. And
if Ana's half like her, she'll be running both our nations whether your
son likes it or not."
It was the opening to a hundred other issues. Galt and the cities of the
Khaiem were in a state of profound disarray. Ana Dasin might be the new
Empress, but that meant little enough in practical terms. In Galt the
High Council and the full council were each in flux, their elections and
appointments in question now that their cities were little more than
abandoned. Otah would be hated for that destruction or else beloved for