Shadow and Betrayal

and kicked, sure that the stone would close over her like water, and then she stopped fighting. Let it kill her, let her die.
    Let it end.
    The hands went away, and Idaan found herself immobile, trapped in stone that had found its solidity again. She could breathe, she could see, she could hear. She opened her mouth to scream, to call for Cehmai. To beg. Stone-Made-Soft put a single finger to her lips.
    ‘It won’t help,’ the andat said again, then turned and lumbered up beside the speaker’s pulpit where Cehmai stood waiting for it. She didn’t look at her brother as he took the pulpit, only Cehmai. He didn’t look back at her. When Otah spoke, his words cut through the air, clean and strong as wine.
    ‘I am Otah Machi, sixth son of the Khai Machi. I have never renounced my claim to this place; I have never killed or plotted to kill my brothers or my father. But I know who has, and I have come here before this council to show you what has been done, and by whom, and to claim what is mine by right.’
    Idaan closed her eyes and wept, surprised to find her desolation complicated by relief.
     
    ‘I notice you never mentioned the Galts,’ Amiit said.
    The waiting area to which the protocol servant had led them was open and light, looking out over a garden of flowering vines. A silver bowl with water cooling fresh peaches sat on a low table. Amiit leaned against the railing. He looked calm, but Otah could see the white at the corners of his mouth and the small movements of his hands; Amiit’s belly was as much in knots as his own.
    ‘There was no call,’ Otah said. ‘The families that were involved know that they were being used, and if they only suspect that I know it, that’s almost as good as being sure. How long are we going to have to wait?’
    ‘Until they’ve finished deciding whether to kill you as a murderer or raise you up as the Khai Machi,’ Amiit said. ‘It shouldn’t take long. You were very good out there.’
    ‘You could sound more sure of all this.’
    ‘We’ll be fine,’ Amiit said. ‘We have backing. We have the poets.’
    ‘And yet?’
    Amiit forced a chuckle.
    ‘This is why I don’t play tiles. Just before the tiles man turns the last chit, I convince myself that there’s something I’ve overlooked.’
    ‘I hope you aren’t right this time.’
    ‘If I am, I won’t have to worry about next. They’ll kill me as dead as you.’
    Otah picked up a peach and bit into it. The fuzz made his lips itch, but the taste was sweet and rich and complex. He sighed and looked out. Above the garden wall rose the towers, and beyond them the blue of the sky.
    ‘If we win, you will have to have them killed, you know,’ Amiit said. ‘Adrah and his father. Your sister, Idaan.’
    ‘Not her.’
    ‘Otah-cha, this is going to be hard enough as it stands. The utkhaiem are going to accept you because they have to. But you won’t be hailed as a savior. And Kiyan-cha’s a common woman from no family. She kept a wayhouse. Showing mercy to the girl who killed your father isn’t going to win you anyone’s support.’
    ‘I am the Khai Machi,’ Otah said. ‘I’ll make my way.’
    ‘You don’t understand how complex this is likely to be.’
    Otah shrugged.
    ‘I trust your advice, Amiit-cha,’ Otah said. ‘You’ll have to trust my judgment.’
    The overseer’s expression soured for a moment, and then he laughed. They lapsed into silence. It was true. It was early in his career to appear weak, and the Vaunyogi had killed two of his brothers and his father, and had tried to kill Maati as well. And behind them, the Galts. And the library. There had been something in there, some book or scroll or codex worth all those lives, all that money, and the risk. By the time the sun fled behind the mountains in the west, he would know whether he’d have the power to crush their nation, reduce their houses to slag, their cities to ruins. A word to Cehmai would put it in motion. All it would require of him would be to forget that they also had children and lovers, that the people of Galt were as likely as anyone in the cities of the Khaiem to love and betray, lie and dream. And he was having pangs over executing his own father’s killer. He took another bite of the peach.
    ‘You’ve gone quiet,’ Amiit said softly.
    ‘Thinking about how complex this is likely to be,’ Otah said.
    He finished the last of the peach flesh and threw the stone out into the garden before he washed his hands