Shadow and Betrayal

What was he after all but a mewling kitten lost in the world, while she . . . she was Otah Machi. She was the upstart who had earned the Khai’s chair. She had killed her father for it; it was more than Danat would have done.
    But, of course, truth would destroy everything. That was its nature. So she swallowed it down deep where it could go on destroying her and took an acquiescing pose. She’d won. He’d know that soon enough.
    Once Danat’s body servant had been sent scampering for his bow, Idaan returned to her apartments, shrugged out of her robes and put on the wide, loose trousers and red leather shirt of a hunter. She paused by her table of paints, her mirror. She sat for a moment and looked at her bare face. Her eyes seemed small and flat without the kohl. Her lips seemed pale and wide as a fish’s, her cheeks pallid and low. She could be a peasant girl, plowing fields outside some low town. Her beauty had been in paint. Perhaps it would be again, someday. This was a poor day for beauty.
    The huntsmen were waiting impatiently outside the palaces of the Vaunyogi, their mounts’ hooves clattering against the dark stones of the courtyard. Adrah took a pose of query when he saw her clothes. Idaan didn’t answer it, but went to one of the horsemen, ordered him down, took his blade and his bow and mounted in his place. Adrah cantered over to her side. His mount was the larger, and he looked down at her as if he were standing on a step.
    ‘My brother is coming,’ she said. ‘I’ll ride with him.’
    ‘You think that wise?’ he asked coolly.
    ‘I have asked too much of you already, Adrah-kya.’
    His expression was cold, but he didn’t object further. Danat Machi rode in wearing pale robes of mourning and seated on a great hunting stallion, the very picture of vigor and manly prowess. Five riders were with him: his friends, members of the utkhaiem unfortunate enough to have heard of this hunt and marry themselves to the effort. They would have to be dealt with. Adrah took a pose of obeisance before Danat.
    ‘We’ve had word that a cart left by the south gate last night,’ Adrah said. ‘It was seen coming from an alley beside the tower.’
    ‘Then let us follow it,’ Danat said. He turned and rode. Idaan followed, the wind whipping her hair, the smell of the beast under her rich and sweet. There was no keeping up the gallop, of course. But this was theater - the last remaining sons of the Khai Machi, one the assassin and servant of chaos slipping away in darkness, one the righteous avenger riding forth in the name of justice. Danat knew the part he was to act, and Idaan gave him credit for playing it, now that she had goaded him into action. Those who saw them in the streets would tell others, and the word would spread. It was a sight songs were made from.
    Once they had crossed the bridge over the Tidat, they slowed, looking for people who had heard or seen the cart go by. Idaan knew where it had really gone - the ruins of an old stone wayhouse a half-hand’s walk from the nearest low town west of the city. The morning hadn’t half passed before the hunt had taken a wrong scent, turned north and headed into the foothills. The false trail took them to a crossroad - a mining track led east and west, the thin road from the city winding north up the side of a mountain. Danat looked frustrated and tired. When Adrah spoke - his voice loud enough for everyone in the party to hear - Idaan’s belly tightened.
    ‘We should fan out, Danat-cha. Eight east, eight west, eight north, and two to stay here. If one group finds sign of the upstart, they can send back a runner, and the two waiting here will retrieve the rest.’
    Danat weighed the thought, then agreed. Danat claimed the north road for himself, and the members of the utkhaiem, smelling the chance of glory, divided themselves among the bands heading east and west.
    Adrah took the east, his eyes locked on hers as he turned to go. She saw the meaning in his expression, daring her to do this thing. Idaan made no reply to him at all. She, six huntsmen of the Vaunyogi loyal to their house and master, and Danat rode into the mountains.
    When the sun had reached the highest point in the day’s arc, they stopped at a small lake. The huntsmen rode out in their wide-ranging search as they had done at every pause before this. Danat dismounted, stretched, and paced. His eyes were dark. Idaan waited until the others disappeared into the trees, unslung her