Shadow and Betrayal

killer. I’m a poet. If we’re going to stop this thing, one of us has to change.’
    ‘I should go,’ Otah said, drawing himself up to his feet.
    Heshai-kvo took a pose of farewell, as intimate as family. Otah replied with something very much the same. There were tears, he saw, on Heshai’s cheeks to match his own.
    ‘You should lock the door behind me,’ Otah said.
    ‘Later,’ Heshai said. ‘I’ll do it later if I remember to.’
    The fetid, chill air of the alley was like waking from a dream - or half-waking. Overhead, the half-moon slipped through wisps and fingers of clouds, insubstantial as veils. Otah walked with his head held high, but though he was ashamed of them, he couldn’t stanch the tears. From outside himself, he could observe the sorrow and the black tarry dread, different from fear because of its perfect certainty. He was becoming a murderer. He wondered how his brothers would manage this, when the time came for them to turn on one another, how they would bring themselves with cool, clear minds to end another man’s life.
    The comfort house of Amat Kyaan glowed in the night as the others of its species did - music and voices, the laughter of whores and the cursing of men at the tables. The wealth of the city poured through places like this in a tiny city in itself, given over entirely to pleasure and money. It wouldn’t always be so, he knew. He stood in the street and drank in the sight, the smell, the golden light and brightly colored banners, the joy and the sorrow of it. Tomorrow, it would be part of a different city.
    The guard outside the back door recognized him.
    ‘Grandmother wants to see you,’ the man said.
    Otah watched himself take a pose of acknowledgment and smile his charming smile.
    ‘Do you know where I could find her?’
    ‘Up in her rooms with Wilsin’s girl.’
    Otah gave his thanks and walked in. The common room wasn’t empty - a handful of women sat at the tables, eating and talking among themselves. A black-haired girl, nearly naked, stood in the alcove, cupping her breasts in diaphanous silk with the air of a fish seller wrapping cod. Otah considered the wide, rough-hewn stairs that led to Amat Kyaan’s apartments, to Liat. The door at the top landing was closed. He turned away, scratching lightly on the door of the other room - the one he had seen Maj retreat to the one night he had been there, the one time they had spoken.
    The door pulled open just wide enough for the islander’s face to appear. Her pale skin was flushed, her eyes bright and bloodshot. Otah leaned close.
    ‘Please,’ he said. ‘I need to speak with you.’
    Maj’s eyes narrowed, but a breath later, she stepped back, and Otah pushed into the room, closing the door behind him. Maj stood, arms pulled back, chin jutting like a child ready for a fight. A single lantern sat on a desk showing the cot, the hand-loom, the heap of robes waiting for the launderer. An empty winebowl lay canted in the corner of wall and floor. She was drunk. Otah calculated that quickly, and found that it was likely a good thing.
    ‘Maj-cha,’ Otah said. ‘Forgive me, but I need your help. And I think I may be of service to you.’
    ‘I am living here,’ she said. ‘Not working. I am not one of these girls. Get out.’
    ‘No,’ Otah said, ‘that isn’t what I mean. Maj, I can give you your vengeance now - tonight. The man who wields the andat. The one who actually took the child from you. I can take you to him now.’
    Maj frowned and shook her head slowly, her gaze locked on Otah. He spoke quickly, and low, using simple words with as few poses as he could manage. He explained that the Galts had been Seedless’ tools, that Heshai controlled Seedless, that Otah could take her to him if they left now, right now. He thought he saw her soften, something like hope in her expression.
    ‘But afterwards,’ he said, ‘you have to let me take you home. I have a ship ready to take us. It leaves before dawn.’
    ‘I ask grandmother,’ Maj said, and moved toward the door. Otah shifted to block her.
    ‘No. She can’t know. She wants to stop the Galts, not the poet. If you tell her, you have to go the way she goes. You have to put it before the Khai and wait to see what he chooses to do. I can give it to you now - tonight. But you have to leave Amat before you see the Khai. It’s my price.’
    ‘You think I am stupid? Why should I trust you? Why are you doing this?’
    ‘You aren’t stupid. You should