If only his children were less like him.
There had to be a way. The whole half-dead mess of it had to be
salvageable. He had only to see how.
Voices and argument filled the halls as he made his way through the
palaces. Columns wrapped in celebratory cloth mocked him. Uncertain,
falsely bright gazes met his own and were ignored. The thick air of the
summer cities left sweat running down Otah's spine and the sense of a
damp cloth pressed against his face. There was a way to salvage this. He
had only to find it.
Letters and requests for audiences waited for him, stacks of paper as
long as his forearm. He ignored them for now and sent his servants
scurrying for fresh paper and chilled tea. He sat at his desk, the pen's
bright bronze nib in the air just above the brick of ink, and gave
himself a moment before he began.
Kiyan-kya-
Well, love, it's all gone as well as a wicker fish boat. Ana
won't have Danat. Danat won't have Ana. I find myself host
to the worst gathering in history not actually struck by
plague. I think the only thing I've done well was that I
didn't wrestle our son to the ground when he walked away
from me. I feel like everyone is wrapped up in what happened
before, and I'm alone in fearing what will come after. We
won't survive, love. The Khaiem and the Galts both are
sinking, and we're so short-sighted and mean of spirit we're
willing to die if it means the other bastard goes down too.
I don't mean Ana or Danat. They're only young and brave and
stupid the way young, brave people are. I mean herfather.
FarrerDasin is happy to see this fail. I imagine there are a
./air number in my court who feel the same way.
There are too sides to this, love. But they aren't the two
sides we think of-not the Khaiem and the Galts. It's the
people in love with the past and the ones who./car./or the
future. And, though the gods alone know how I'm going to do
it, I have to win Danat and Ana over from the one camp to
the other.
Otah paused, something shifting in the back of his mind. It felt the way
it had when Kiyan was alive and speaking to him from the next room, her
voice too low to make out the words. He put down the pen and closed his
eyes.
Win Ana over. He had to win Ana over.
"Oh," he said.
"ISSANDRA-CHA. THANK YOU FOR COMING. YOU KNOW MY SON, I THINK," OTAH said.
The sun touched the hills to the west of Saraykeht. Ruddy air rich with
the scent of evening roses came through the unshuttered windows. A small
meal of cheese and dried apple and plum wine waited for their pleasure
on a low lacquered table. Issandra Dasin rose from her divan to greet
Danat as he came forward.
"Issandra-cha," Danat said and returned her welcome.
"Danat needs your help," Otah said. Danat glanced over at him, surprise