Shadow and Betrayal

bow and scrape at your feet? I was thinking how gratifying it must be, being able to bully a whole nation of people you’ve never met.’
    ‘Actually, it isn’t. I imagine news of it will have spread through the city by nightfall. More stories of the Mad Khai.’
    ‘You aren’t called that. Upstart’s still the most common. After the wedding, there was a week or so of calling you the shopkeeper’s wife, but I think it was too long. An insult can only sustain a certain number of syllables.’
    ‘Thank you,’ Otah said. ‘I feel much better now.’
    ‘You are going to have to start caring what they think, you know. These are people you’re going to be living with for the rest of your life. Starting off by proving how disrespectful and independent you can be is only going to make things harder. And the Galts carry quite a few contracts,’ Sinja said. ‘Are you sure you want me away just now? It’s traditional to have a guard close at hand when you’re cultivating new enemies.’
    ‘Yes, I want you to go. If the utkhaiem are talking about the Galts, they may talk less about Idaan.’
    ‘You know they won’t forget her. It doesn’t matter what other issues you wave at them, they’ll come back to her.’
    ‘I know. But it’s the best I can do for now. Are you ready?’
    ‘I have everything I need prepared. We can do it now if you’d like.’
    ‘I would.’
     
    Three rooms had been her world. A narrow bed, a cheap iron brazier, a night pot taken away every second day. The armsmen brought her bits of candle - stubs left over from around the palaces. Once, someone had slipped a book in with her meal - a cheap translation of Westland court poems. Still, she’d read them all and even started composing some of her own. It galled her to be grateful for such small kindnesses, especially when she knew they would not have been extended to her had she been a man.
    The only breaks came when she was taken out to walk down empty tunnels, deep under the palaces. Armsmen paced behind her and before her, as if she were dangerous. And her mind slowly folded in on itself, the days passing into weeks, the ankle she’d cracked in her fall mending. Some days she felt lost in dreams, struggling to wake only to wish herself back asleep when her mind came clear. She sang to herself. She spoke to Adrah as if he were still there, still alive. As if he still loved her. She raged at Cehmai or bedded him or begged his forgiveness. All on her narrow bed, by the light of candle stubs.
    She woke to the sound of the bolt sliding open. She didn’t think it was time to be fed or walked, but time had become a strange thing lately. When the door opened and the man in the black and silver robes of the Khai stepped in she told herself she was dreaming, half fearing he had come to kill her at last, and half hoping for it.
    The Khai Machi looked around the cell. His smile seemed forced.
    ‘You might not think it, but I’ve lived in worse,’ he said.
    ‘Is that supposed to comfort me?’
    ‘No,’ he said.
    A second man entered the room, a thick bundle under his arm. A soldier, by his stance and by the mail that he wore under his robes. Idaan sat up, gathering herself, preparing for whatever came and desperate that the men not turn and close the door again behind them. The Khai Machi hitched up his robes and squatted, his back against the stone wall as if he was a laborer at rest between tasks. His long face was very much like Biitrah’s, she saw. It was in the corners of his eyes and the shape of his jaw.
    ‘Sister,’ he said.
    ‘Most high,’ she replied.
    He shook his head. The soldier shifted. She had the feeling that the two movements were the continuation of some conversation they had had, a subtle commentary to which she was not privileged.
    ‘This is Sinja-cha,’ the Khai said. ‘You’ll do as he says. If you fight him, he’ll kill you. If you try to leave him before he gives you permission, he’ll kill you.’
    ‘Are you whoring me to your pet thug then?’ she asked, fighting to keep the quaver from her voice.
    ‘What? No. Gods,’ Otah said. ‘No, I’m sending you into exile. He’s to take you as far as Cetani. He’ll leave you there with a good robe and a few lengths of silver. You can write. You have numbers. You’ll be able to find some work, I expect.’
    ‘I am a daughter of the Khaiem,’ she said bitterly. ‘I’m not permitted to work.’
    ‘So lie,’ Otah said. ‘Pick a new name. Noygu