world badly. The reasons I had for doing it seemed good at the time. I
would like to be part of putting it back together again. With his help.
With yours."
"I didn't break all this," Ana said, her chin stubborn. "Danat didn't
either, for that matter. It's not fair that we should have to sacrifice
whatever we want to unmake your mistakes."
"It isn't. But I can't repair this."
"Why do you think I can?"
"I have some faith in you both," he said.
By the time he made his way back to his rooms, Idaan had departed,
leaving only a brief note saying that she intended to return in the
morning and had some questions for him. Otah sat on a low couch by the
fire grate, his eyes focused on nothing. He wondered what Eiah would
have made of his conversation with the Galtic girl, and of whom he was
truly asking forgiveness. His mind wandered, and he did not realize he
had lain back until he woke to the cool light of dawn.
He was sitting in his private bath, the hot water easing the knots that
sleeping away from his bed had tied in his back, when the servant
announced Sinja's arrival. Otah considered the effort that rising,
drying himself, and being dressed would require and had the man brought
to him. Sinja, dressed in the simple canvas and leather of a soldier,
looked more like a mercenary captain than the nearest advisor to an
emperor. He squatted at the edge of the bath, looking down at Otah. The
servant poured tea for the newcomer, took a ritual pose appropriate to a
withdrawal from which he would have to be specifically summoned to
return, and left. The door slid closed behind him, the waxed wooden
runners as silent as breath.
"What's happened?" Otah asked, dreading the answer.
"I was going to ask the same thing. You spoke to Ana Dasin last night?"
"I did," Otah said.
Sinja sipped his tea before he spoke again.
"Well, I don't know what you said to her, but this morning, I had a
runner from Farrer Dasin offering his ships and his men for Balasar's
fleet. The general's meeting with him now to arrange the details."
Otah sat forward, the water swirling around him.
"Farrer-cha ..."
Sinja put down the bowl of tea.
"The man himself. Not Issandra, not one of his servants. The handwriting
was his own. There weren't details, only the offer. And since he's been
reticent and dismissive every time Balasar asked, it seemed that
something had changed. If it's what it looks like, it will mean putting
off departure for a few days, but when we get there, it will be a real
fighting force."
"That's. . ." Otah began. "I don't know how that happened."
"I've been swimming through palace gossip ever since, trying to find
what made the change, and the only thing half-plausible I've heard is
that Ana Dasin met with Danat-cha, after which she went to a secondrate
teahouse, drank more than was considered healthy, and came here. After
talking with you, she went back to the old poet's house; the lanterns