Shadow and Betrayal

was no graceful way to refuse, and at the moment, he could think of no reason. Going back to stand, frustrated, over the table had no appeal. He sat.
    ‘What is bothering you, Maati-kya? You’re still searching for some way to keep the upstart alive?’
    ‘Is that an option? I don’t see Danat-cha letting him walk free. No, I suppose I’m just hoping to see him killed for the right reasons. Except . . . I don’t know. I can’t find anyone else with reason to do the things that have been done.’
    ‘Perhaps there’s more than one thing going on then?’ Baarath suggested.
    Maati took a pose of surrender.
    ‘I can’t comprehend one. The gods will have to lead me by the hand if there’s two. Can you think of any other reason to kill Biitrah? The man seems to have moved through the world without making an enemy.’
    ‘He was the best of us,’ Baarath agreed and wiped his eyes with the end of his sleeve. ‘He was a good man.’
    ‘So it had to be one of his brothers. Gods, I wish the assassin hadn’t been killed. He could have told us if there was a connection between Biitrah and what happened to me. Then at least I’d know if I were solving one puzzle or two.’
    ‘Doesn’t have to,’ Baarath said.
    Maati took a pose that asked for clarification. Baarath rolled his eyes and took on an expression of superiority that Maati had seen beneath his politeness for weeks now.
    ‘It doesn’t have to be one of his brothers,’ Baarath said. ‘You say it’s not the upstart. Fine, that’s what you choose. But then you say you can’t find anything that Danat or Kaiin’s done that makes you think they’ve done it. And why would they hide it, anyway? It’s not shameful for them to kill their brother.’
    ‘But no one else has a reason,’ Maati said.
    ‘No one? Or only no one you’ve found?’
    ‘If it isn’t about the succession, I can’t find any call to kill Biitrah. If it isn’t about my search for Otah, I can’t think of any reason to want me dead. The only killing that makes sense at all was poking the assassin full of holes, and that only because he might have answered my questions.’
    ‘Why couldn’t it have been the succession?’
    Maati snorted. It was difficult being friendly with Baarath when he was sober. Now, with him half-maudlin, half-contemptuous, and reeking of wine, it was worse. Maati’s frustration peaked, and his voice, when he spoke, was louder and angrier than he’d intended.
    ‘Because Otah didn’t , and Kaiin didn’t , and Danat didn’t , and there’s no one else who’s looking to sit on the chair. Is there some fifth brother I haven’t been told about?’
    Baarath raised his hands in a pose of a tutor posing an instructive question to a pupil. The effect was undercut by the slight weaving of his hands.
    ‘What would happen if all three brothers died?’
    ‘Otah would be Khai.’
    ‘Four. I meant four. What if they all die? What if none of them takes the chair?’
    ‘The utkhaiem would fight over it like very polite pit dogs, and whichever one ended with the most blood on its muzzle would be elevated as the new Khai.’
    ‘So someone else might benefit from this yet, you see? They would have to hide it because having slaughtered the whole family of the previous Khai wouldn’t help their family prestige, seeing as all their heads would be hanging from poles. But it would be about your precious succession, and there would be someone besides the three . . . four brothers with reason to do the thing.’
    ‘Except that Danat’s alive and about to be named Khai Machi, it’s a pretty story.’
    Baarath sneered and made a grand gesture at the world in general.
    ‘What is there but pretty stories? What is history but the accumulation of plausible speculation and successful lies? You’re a scholar, Maati-kya, you should enjoy them more.’
    Baarath chuckled drunkenly, and Maati rose to his feet. Outside, something cracked with a report like a stone slab broken or a roof tile dropped from a great height. A moment later, laughter followed it. Maati leaned against the table, his arms folded and each hand tucked into the opposite sleeve. Baarath shifted, lay back on the bench, and sighed.
    ‘You don’t think it’s true,’ Maati said. ‘You don’t think it’s one of the high families plotting to be Khai.’
    ‘Of course not,’ Baarath said. ‘It’s an idiot plan. If you were to start something like that, you’d need to be certain you’d win it, and that