Shadow and Betrayal

his father, that these men were the brothers he knew only as vague memories. And because of these men, he had lost everything again. If he was going to be haunted his whole life by the city, perhaps he should at least see it. The only thing he risked was his life.
    At length, the conversation turned to less weighty matters and - without a word or shift in voice or manner - the meeting was ended. Otah spoke as much as any, laughed as much, and sang as loudly when the pipe players joined them. But when he stretched and turned to leave, Amiit Foss was at his side. Otah and the overseer left together, as if they had only happened to rise at the same time, and Otah knew that no one in the drunken, boisterous room they left had failed to notice it.
    ‘So, it sounds as if all the interesting things in the world were happening in Machi,’ Otah said as they strode back through the hallways of the house compound. ‘You are still hoping to send me there?’
    ‘I’ve been hoping,’ Amiit Foss agreed. ‘But I have other plans if you have some of your own.’
    ‘I don’t,’ Otah said, and Amiit paused. In the dim lantern light, Otah let the old man search his face. Something passed over Amiit, the ghost of some old sorrow, and then he took a pose of condolence.
    ‘I thought you had come to quit the house,’ Amiit said.
    ‘I’d meant to,’ Otah said, surprised at himself for admitting it.
    Amiit gestured Otah to follow him, and together they retired to Amiit’s apartments. The rooms were large and warm, hung with tapestries and lit by a dozen candles. Otah sat on a low seat by a table, and Amiit took a box from his shelf. Inside were two small porcelain bowls and a white stoppered bottle that matched them. When Amiit poured, the scent of rice wine filled the room.
    ‘We drink to the gods,’ Amiit said, raising his bowl. ‘May they never drink to us.’
    Otah drank the wine at a gulp. It was excellent, and he felt his throat grow warmer. He looked at the empty bowl in his fingers and nodded. Amiit grinned.
    ‘It was a gift from an old friend,’ Amiit said. ‘I love to drink it, but I hate to drink alone.’
    ‘I’m pleased to be of service,’ Otah said as Amiit filled the bowl again.
    ‘So things with the woman didn’t work out?’
    ‘No,’ Otah said.
    ‘I’m sorry.’
    ‘It was entirely my fault.’
    ‘If it’s true, you’re a wise man to know it, and if not, you’re a good man for saying it. Either way.’
    ‘I think it would be . . . that is, if there are any letters to be carried, I think travel might be the best thing just now. I don’t really care to stay in Udun.’
    Amiit sighed and nodded.
    ‘Tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Come to my offices in the morning. We’ll arrange something.’
    Afterwards, they finished the rice wine and talked of nothing important - of old stories and old travels, the women they had known and loved or else hated. Or both. Otah said nothing of Kiyan or the north, and Amiit didn’t press him. When Otah rose to leave, he was surprised to find how drunk he had become. He navigated his way to his room and lay on the couch, mustering the resolve to pull off his robes. Morning found him still dressed. He changed robes and went down to the bathhouse, forcing his mind back over his conversations of the night before. He was fairly certain he had said nothing to implicate himself or make Amiit suspect the nature of his falling out with Kiyan. He wondered what the old man would have made of the truth, had he known it.
    The packet of letters waited for him, each sewn and sealed, in a leather bag on Amiit Foss’ desk. Most were for trading houses in Machi, though there were four that were to go to members of the utkhaiem. Otah turned the packet in his hands. Behind him, one of the apprentices said something softly and another giggled.
    ‘You have time to reconsider,’ Amiit said. ‘You could go back to her on your knees. If the letters wait another day, there’s little lost. And she might relent.’
    Otah tucked the letters into their pouch and slipped it into his sleeve.
    ‘An old lover of mine once told me that everything I’d ever won, I won by leaving,’ Otah said.
    ‘The island girl?’
    ‘Did I mention her last night?’
    ‘At length,’ Amiit said, chuckling. ‘That particular quotation came up twice, as I recall. There might have been a third time too. I couldn’t really say.’
    ‘I’m sorry to hear that. I hope I didn’t tell you all my secrets,’