Shadow and Betrayal

hear this. But I’ve been waiting to say it for longer than I can stand, and so I’m going to be selfish. And I don’t know how to. Not well.’
    ‘Is it something I’ll want to hear?’
    ‘I don’t know. I hope . . . I . . . Gods. Here. When you left, I missed you worse than I’d expected. I was sick with it. Physically ill. I thought I should be patient. I thought it would pass. And then I noticed that I seemed to miss you most in the early mornings. You understand?’
    She looked Otah deep in the eye, and he frowned, trying to find some deeper significance in the words. And then he did, and he felt the world drop away from under him. He took a pose of query, and she replied with a confirmation.
    ‘Ah,’ he said and then sat, utterly at a loss. After ten or twenty breaths, Kiyan spoke again.
    ‘The midwife thinks sometime around Candles Night. Maybe a little after. So you see, I knew there was no avoiding the issue, not as long as I was carrying a baby with your blood in it. I went to Amiit-cha and we . . . he, really . . . put things in motion.’
    ‘There are blood teas,’ Otah said.
    ‘I know. The midwife offered them to me. Would you . . . I mean, is that what you would have wanted?’
    ‘No! Only I . . . I’d thought you wouldn’t give up what you had. Your father’s wayhouse. I don’t know that I have much of a life to give you. I was a dead man until a little before dawn today. But if you want . . .’
    ‘I wouldn’t have left the wayhouse for you, ’Tani. It’s where I grew up. It’s my home, and I wouldn’t give it up for a man. Not even a good man. I made that decision the night you told me who your father was. But for the both of you. Or really, even just for her. That’s a harder question.’
    ‘Her?’
    ‘Or him,’ Kiyan said. ‘Whichever. But I suppose that puts the decision in your hands now. The last time I saw you, I turned you out of my house. I won’t use this as a means of forcing you into something you’d rather not. I’ve made my choice, not yours.’
    Perhaps it was the fatigue or the wine, but it took Otah the space of two or three breaths to understand what she was saying. He felt the grin draw back the corners of his mouth until they nearly ached.
    ‘I want you to be with me, Kiyan-kya. I want you to always be with me. And the baby too. If I have to flee to the Westlands and herd sheep, I want you both with me.’
    Kiyan breathed in deeply, and let the breath out with a rough stutter. He hadn’t seen how unsure she’d been until now, when the relief relaxed her face. She took his hand and squeezed it until he thought both of their bones were creaking.
    ‘That’s good. That’s very good. I would have been . . .’ laughter entered her voice ‘. . . very disappointed.’
    A knock at the door startled them both. The commander opened the door and then glanced from one of the laughing pair to the other. His face took a stern expression.
    ‘You told him,’ Sinja said. ‘You should at least let the man rest before you tell him things like that. He’s had a hard day.’
    ‘He’s been up to the task,’ Kiyan said.
    ‘Well, I’ve come to make things worse. We’ve just had a runner from the city, Otah-cha. It appears you’ve murdered your father in his sleep. Your brother Danat led a hunting party bent on bringing back your head on a stick, but apparently you’ve killed him too. You’re running out of family, Otah-cha.’
    ‘Ah,’ Otah said, and then a moment later, ‘I think perhaps I should lie down now.’

10
    T hey burned the Khai Machi and his son together in the yard outside the temple. The head priest wore his pale robes, the hood pulled low over his eyes in respect, and tended the flames. Thick, black smoke rose from the pyre and vanished into the air high above the city. Machi had woken from its revels to find the world worse than when they’d begun, and Cehmai saw it in every face he passed. A thousand of them at least stood in the afternoon sun. Shock and sorrow, confusion and fear.
    And excitement. In a few eyes among the utkhaiem, he saw the bright eyes and sharp ears of men who smelled opportunity. He walked among them, Stone-Made-Soft at his side, peering through the funereal throng for the one familiar face. Idaan had to be there, but he could not find her.
    The lower priests also passed through the crowds, singing dirges and beating the dry notes of drums. Slaves in ceremonially torn robes passed out tin cups of bittered