Shadow and Betrayal

images that are still in the corners. We’re like dogs sniffing for scraps. We aren’t poets; we’re scholars. ’
    Maati began to take a pose of agreement but paused, unsure. Heshai-kvo raised an eyebrow and completed the pose himself, his gaze fixed on Maati as if asking was this what you meant? Then the teacher waved the pose away.
    ‘Seedless was . . . was the answer to a problem,’ the poet said, his voice growing soft. ‘I didn’t think it through. Not far enough. Have you heard of Miyani-kvo and Three-Bound-As-One? I studied that when I was your age. Poured my heart into it. And when the time came - when the Dai-kvo sent for me and said that I wasn’t simply going to take over another man’s work, that I was to attempt a binding of my own - I drew on that knowledge. She was in love with him, you know. Three-Bound-As-One. An andat in love with her poet. There was an epic written about it.’
    ‘I’ve seen it performed.’
    ‘Have you? Well forget it. Unlearn it. It’ll only lead you astray. I was too young and too foolish, and now I’m afraid I’ll never have the chance to be wise.’ The poet’s gaze was fixed on something that Maati couldn’t see, something in another place or time. A smile touched the wide lips for a moment, and then, with a sigh, the poet blinked. He seemed to see Maati again, and took a pose of command.
    ‘Put these damned candles out,’ he said. ‘I’m going to sleep.’
    And without looking back, Heshai-kvo rose and tramped up the stairs. Maati moved through the house, dousing the flames Heshai-kvo had lit, dimming the room as he did so. His mind churned with half-formed questions. Above him, he heard Heshai-kvo’s footsteps, and then the clatter of shutters closing, and then silence. The master had gone to bed - likely already asleep. Maati had snuffed the last flame but the night candle when the new voice spoke.
    ‘You didn’t accept my apology.’
    Seedless stood in the doorway, his pale skin glowing in the light of the single candle. His robes were dark - blue or black or red so deep Maati couldn’t make it out. The thin hands took a pose of query.
    ‘Is there a reason I should?’
    ‘Charity?’
    Maati coughed out a mirthless laugh and turned as if to go, but the andat stepped into the house. His movements were as graceful as an animal’s - as beautiful as the Khai, but unstudied, as much a part of his nature as the shape of a leaf was natural to a tree.
    ‘I am sorry,’ the andat said. ‘And you should forgive our mutual master as well. He had a bad day.’
    ‘Did he?’
    ‘Yes. He met with the Khai and discovered that he’s going to have to do something he doesn’t enjoy. But now that it’s just the two of us . . .’
    The andat sat on the stairs, black eyes amused, pale hands cradling a knee.
    ‘Ask,’ Seedless said.
    ‘Ask what?’
    ‘Whatever the question is that’s making your face pull in like that. Really, you look like you’ve been sucking lemons.’
    Maati hesitated. If he could have walked away, he would have. But the path to his cot was effectively blocked. He considered calling out to Heshai-kvo, waking him so that he could walk up the stairway without brushing against the beautiful creature in his way.
    ‘Please, Maati. I said I was sorry for my little misdirection. I won’t do it again.’
    ‘I don’t believe you.’
    ‘No? Well, then you’re wise beyond your years. I probably will at some point. But here, tonight, ask me what you’d like, and I’ll tell you the truth. For a price.’
    ‘What price?’
    ‘That you accept my apology.’
    Maati shook his head.
    ‘Fine,’ Seedless said, rising and moving to the shelves. ‘Don’t ask. Tie yourself in knots if it suits you.’
    The pale hand ran along the spines of books, plucking one in a brown leather binding free. Maati turned, walked up two steps, and then faltered. When he looked back, Seedless had curled up on a couch beside the night candle, his legs pulled up beneath him. He seemed engaged in the open book on his knee.
    ‘He told you the story about Miyani-kvo, didn’t he?’ Seedless asked, not looking up from the page.
    Maati was silent.
    ‘It’s like him to do that. He doesn’t often say things clearly when an oblique reference will do. It was about how Three-Bound-As-One loved her poet, wasn’t it? Here. Look at this.’
    Seedless turned the book over and held it out. Maati walked back down the steps. The book was written in Heshai-kvo’s script.