Shadow and Betrayal

you away from me, Cehmai. I want you elsewhere. If you love me as much as you claim, you’ll respect that.’
    ‘But—’
    ‘You’ll respect it.’
    Cehmai had to think, had to pick the words as if they were stuck in mud. The confusion and distress rang in his mind, but he could see what any protests would bring. He had walked away from her, and she had followed. Perhaps she would again. That was the only comfort here.
    ‘I’ll leave you,’ he said. ‘If it’s what you want.’
    ‘It is. And remember this: Adrah Vaunyogi isn’t your friend. Whatever he says, whatever he does, you watch him. He will destroy you if he can.’
    ‘He can’t,’ Cehmai said. ‘I’m the poet of Machi. The worst he can do to me is take you, and that’s already done.’
    That seemed to stop her. She softened again, but didn’t move to him, or away.
    ‘Just be careful, Cehmai-kya. And go .’
    Cehmai’s leaden hands took a pose of acceptance, but he did not move. Idaan crossed her arms.
    ‘You also have to be careful. Especially if Adrah wants to become Khai Machi,’ Cehmai said. ‘It’s the other thing I came for. The body they found was false. Your brother Otah is alive.’
    He might have told her that the plague had come. Her face went pale and empty. It was a moment before she seemed able to draw a breath.
    ‘What . . .?’ she said, then coughed and began again. ‘How do you know that?’
    ‘If I tell you, will you still send me away?’
    Something washed through Idaan’s expression - disappointment or depair or sorrow. She took a pose that accepted a contract.
    ‘Tell me everything,’ Idaan said.
    Cehmai did.

11
    I daan walked through the halls, her hands clenched in fists. Her body felt as if a storm were running through it, as if flood waters were washing out her veins. She trembled with the need to do something, but there was nothing to be done. She remembered seeing the superstitious dread with which others had treated the name Otah Machi. She had found it amusing, but she no longer knew why.
    She had made Cehmai repeat himself until she was certain that she’d understood what he was saying. It had taken all the pain and sorrow of seeing him again and put it aside. Cehmai had meant to save her by it.
    Adrah was in the kitchens, talking with his father’s house master. She took a pose of apology and extracted him, leading him to a private chamber, pulling closed the shutters, and sliding home the door before she spoke. Adrah sat in a low chair of pale wood and red velvet as she paced. The words spilled out of her, one upon another as she repeated the story Cehmai had told her. Even she could hear the tones of panic in her voice.
    ‘Tell me,’ she said as the news came to its end. ‘Tell me it’s not true. Tell me you’re sure he’s dead.’
    ‘He’s dead. It’s a mistake. It has to be. No one knew when he’d be leaving the city. No one could have rescued him.’
    ‘Tell me that you know !’
    Adrah scowled.
    ‘How would I do that? We hired men to free him, take him away, and kill him. They took him away, and his body floated back down the river. But I wasn’t there, I didn’t strangle him myself. I can’t keep these men from knowing who’s paid their fee and also be there to hold their hands, Idaan. You know that.’
    Idaan put her hands to her mouth. Her fingers were shaking. It was a dream. It was a sick dream, and she would wake from it. She would wake up, and none of it would have been true.
    ‘He’s used us,’ she said. ‘Otah’s used us to do his work.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Look at it! We’ve done everything for him. We’ve killed them all. Even . . . even my father. We’ve done everything he would have needed to do. He knew . He knew from the start. He’s planned for everything we’ve done.’
    Adrah made an impatient sound at the back of his throat.
    ‘You’re imagining things,’ he said. ‘He can’t have known what we were doing, or how we would do it. He isn’t a god, and he isn’t a ghost.’
    ‘You’re sure of that, are you? We’ve fallen into his trap, Adrah! It’s a trap!’
    ‘It is a rumor started by Cehmai Tyan. Or maybe it’s Maati Vaupathai who’s set you a trap. He could suspect us and say these things to make us panic. Or Cehmai could.’
    ‘He wouldn’t do that,’ Idaan said. ‘Cehmai wouldn’t do that to - to us.’
    ‘To you, you mean,’ Adrah said, pulling the words out slow and bitter.
    Idaan stopped her pacing and took a pose of