Shadow and Betrayal

would take more money and influence than any one family could gather. Even the Radaani don’t have that much gold, and they’ve got more than the Khai.’
    ‘Then you think I’m chasing mist,’ Maati said.
    ‘I think the upstart is behind all of it, and that you’re too much in awe of him to see it. Everyone knows he was your teacher when you were a boy. You still think he’s twice what you are. Who knows, maybe he is.’
    His anger gave Maati the illusion of calm, and a steadiness to his voice. He took a pose of correction.
    ‘That was rude, Baarath-cha. I’d thank you not to say it again.’
    ‘Oh, don’t be ashamed of it,’ Baarath said. ‘There are any number of boys who have those sorts of little infatuations with—’
    Maati’s body lifted itself, sliding with an elegance and grace he didn’t know he posessed. His palm moved out by its own accord and slapped Baarath’s jaw hard enough to snap the man’s head to the side. He put a hand on Baarath’s chest, pinning him firmly to the bench. Baarath yelped in surprise and Maati saw the shock and fear in his face. Maati kept his voice calm.
    ‘We aren’t friends. Let’s not be enemies. It would distract me, and you may have perfect faith that it would destroy you. I am here on the Dai-kvo’s work, and no matter who becomes Khai Machi, he’ll have need of the poets. Standing beside that, one too-clever librarian can’t count for much.’
    Outrage shone in Baarath’s eyes as he pushed Maati’s hand away. Maati stepped back, allowing him to rise. The librarian pulled his disarrayed robes back into place, his features darkening. Maati’s rage began to falter, but he kept his chin held high.
    ‘You’re a bully, Maati-cha,’ Baarath said, then he took a pose of farewell and marched proudly out of the library. His library. Maati heard the door slam closed and felt himself deflate.
    It galled him, but he knew he would have to apologize later. He should never have struck the man. If he had borne the insults and insinuations, he could have forced contrition from Baarath, but he hadn’t.
    He looked at his scattered notes. Perhaps he was a bully. Perhaps there was nothing to be found in all this. After all, Otah would die regardless. Danat would take his father’s place, and Maati would go back to the Dai-kvo. He would even be able to claim a measure of success. Otah was starving to death in the high air above Machi thanks to him, after all. And what was that if not victory? One small mystery left unsolved could hardly matter in the end.
    He pulled his papers together, stacking them, folding them, tucking the packet away into his sleeve. There was nothing to be done here. He was tired and frustrated, ashamed of himself and in despair. There was a city of wine and distraction that would welcome him with open arms and delighted smiles.
    He remembered Heshai-kvo - the poet of Saraykeht, the controller of Removing-the-Part-That-Continues who they’d called Seedless. He remembered his teacher’s pilgrimages to the soft quarter with its drugs and gambling, its wine and whores. Heshai had felt this, or something like it; Maati knew he had.
    He pulled the brown leatherbound book from his sleeve, where it always waited. He opened it and read Heshai’s careful, beautiful handwriting. The chronicle and examination of his errors in binding the andat. He recalled Seedless’ last words. He’s forgiven you .
    Maati turned back, his limbs heavy with exhaustion and dread. He put the book back into his sleeve and pulled out his notes. He rearranged them on the table. He began again, and the night stretched out endlessly before him.
     
    The palaces were drunken and dizzy and lost in the relief that comes when a people believe that the worst is over. It was a celebration of fratricide, but of all the dancers, the drinkers, the declaimers of small verse, only Idaan seemed to remember that fact. She played her part, of course. She appeared in all the circles of which she had been part back before she’d entered this darkness. She drank wine and tea, she accepted the congratulations of the high families on her joining with the house of Vaunyogi. She blushed at the ribald comments made about her and Adrah, or else replied with lewder quips.
    She played the part. The only sign was that she was more elaborate when she painted her face. Even if people noticed, what would they think but that the colors on her eyelids and the plum-dark rouge on her lips were a part