Shadow and Betrayal

death and your assault. I didn’t have a part in Danat’s murder either. Or my father’s. Or even my own rescue from the tower, come to that. It’s all simply happened up to now. And I didn’t know whether you still believed me innocent.’
    Maati smiled ruefully. There was something in Otah’s voice that sounded like hope. Maati didn’t know his own heart - the resentment, the anger, the love of Otah-kvo and of Liat and the child she’d borne. He couldn’t say even what they all had to do with this man sitting across his appropriated desk.
    ‘I do,’ Maati said at last. ‘I’ve been looking into the matter, but I suppose you know that if you’ve had me watched.’
    ‘Yes. That’s one reason I wanted to speak to you.’
    ‘There are others?’
    ‘I have a confession to make. I’d likely be wiser to keep quiet until this whole round is finished, but . . . I’ve lied to you, Maati. I told you that I’d been with a woman in the east islands and failed to father a child on her. She . . . she wasn’t real. That never happened.’
    Maati considered this, waiting for his heart to rise in anger or shrivel, but it only beat in its customary rhythm. He wondered when it had stopped mattering to him, the father of the boy he’d lost. Since the last time he had spoken with Otah in the high stone cell, certainly, but looking back, he couldn’t put a moment to it. If the boy was his get or Otah’s, neither would bring him back. Neither would undo the years gone by. And there were other things that he had that he might still lose, or else save.
    ‘I thought I was going to die,’ Otah said. ‘I thought it wouldn’t matter to me, and if it gave you some comfort, then . . .’
    ‘Let it go,’ Maati said. ‘If there’s anything to be said about it, we can say it later. There are other matters at hand.’
    ‘Have you found something, then?’
    ‘I have a family name, I think. Certainly there’s someone putting money and influence behind the Vaunyogi.’
    ‘Likely the Galts,’ Otah said. ‘They’ve been making contracts bad enough to look like bribes. We didn’t know what influence they were buying.’
    ‘It could be this,’ Maati said. ‘Do you know why they’d do it?’
    ‘No,’ Otah said. ‘But if you’ve proof that the Vaunyogi are behind the murders—’
    ‘I don’t,’ Maati said. ‘I have a suspicion, but nothing more than that. Not yet. And if we don’t uncover them quickly, they’ll likely have Adrah named Khai Machi and have the resources of the whole city to find you and kill you for crimes that everyone outside this warehouse assumes you guilty of.’
    They sat in silence for the space of three breaths.
    ‘Well,’ Otah-kvo said, ‘it appears we have some work to do then. But at least we’ve an idea where to look.’
     
    In her dream, Idaan was at a celebration. Fire burned in a ring all around the pavilion, and she knew with the logic of dreams that the flames were going to close, that the circle was growing smaller. They were all going to burn. She tried to shout, tried to warn the dancers, but she could only croak; no one heard her. There was someone there who could stop the thing from happening - a single man who was Cehmai and Otah and her father all at once. She beat her way through the bodies, trying to find him, but there were dogs in with the people. The flames were too close already, and to keep themselves alive, the women were throwing the animals into the fire. She woke to the screams and howls in her mind and the silence in her chamber.
    The night candle had failed. The chamber was dim, silvered by moonlight beyond the dark web of the netting. The shutters along the wall were all open, but no breath of air stirred. Idaan swallowed and shook her head, willing the last wisps of nightmare into forgetfulness. She waited, listening to her breath, until her mind was her own again. Even then she was reluctant to sleep for fear of falling into the same dream. She turned to Adrah, but the bed at her side was empty. He was gone.
    ‘Adrah?’
    There was no answer.
    Idaan wrapped herself with a thin blanket, pushed aside the netting and stepped out of her bed - her new bed. Her marriage bed. The smooth stone of the floor was cool against her bare feet. She walked through the chambers of their apartments - hers and her husband’s - silently. She found him sitting on a low couch, a bottle beside him. A thick earthenware bowl on the floor stank of distilled wine. Or