Shadow and Betrayal

another distracted him, until he was only chasing his thoughts and being chased by them. He didn’t notice when he slipped into dream.
     
    Liat left Marchat Wilsin’s offices with her spine straight and rage brewing. She walked through the compound to her cell without looking down and without catching anyone’s gaze. She closed the door behind her, fastened the shutters so that no one could happen to look in, then sat at her desk and wept.
    It was profoundly unfair. She had done everything she could - she’d studied the etiquette, she’d taken the island girl to all the appointments at their appointed times, she’d negotiated with the poet even when he’d made it perfectly clear that he’d be as pleased to have her out of the room - and it was Itani that defeated her. Itani!
    She stripped off her outer robe, flinging it to the bed. She wrenched open her wardrobe and looked for another, a better one. One more expressive of wrath.
    It’s not entirely appropriate, Wilsin-cha still said in her mind. So close to a formal trade it might give the impression that the house was still seeking some advantage after the agreements had been made.
    It might, she knew he’d meant, make her look like an idiot sending her lover to try to win favor. And worse, Itani - sweet, gentle, smiling Itani - hadn’t even told her. The nights she’d spent working, imagining him with his cohort or in his quarters, waiting for her to complete her task with the sad trade, he’d been out spoiling things for her. Out with the student poet. He hadn’t thought of what it would look like, what it would imply about her.
    And he hadn’t even told her.
    She plucked a formal robe, red shot with black, pulled it on over her inner robes, and tied it fast. She braided her hair, pulling it back severely. When she was done, she lifted her chin as she imagined Amat Kyaan would have and stalked out into the city.
    The streets were still bustling, the business day far from ended. The sun, still eight or nine hands above the horizon, pressed down and the air was wet and stifling and still, and it reeked of the sea. Itani would still be with his cohort, but she wasn’t going to wait and risk letting her anger mellow. She would find out what Itani meant by this. She’d have an explanation for Wilsin-cha, and she’d have it now, before the trade was finished. Tomorrow was the only day left to make things right.
    At his quarters, she found that he hadn’t gone out with the others after all - he’d been out too late and pled illness when Muhatia-cha came to gather them. The club-foot boy who watched the quarters during the working hours assured her with obvious pleasure that Muhatia-cha had been viciously angry.
    So whatever it was that Itani was up to, it was worth risking his indenture as well as her standing with Wilsin-cha. Liat thanked the club-foot boy and asked, with a formal pose, where she might find Itani-cha since he was not presently in his quarters. The boy shrugged and rattled off teahouses, bathhouses, and places of ease along the seafront. It was nearly two full hands before Liat tracked him down at a cheap bathhouse near the river, and her temper hadn’t calmed.
    She stalked into the bath without bothering to remove her robes. The great tiled walls echoed with conversations that quieted as she passed. The men and women in the public baths considered her, but Liat only moved on, ignoring them. Pretending to ignore them. Acting as Amat would have. Itani had taken a private room to one side. She strode down the short corridor of rough, wet stone, paused, breathed deeply twice as if there was something in the thick, salt-scented air that might fortify her, and pushed her way in.
    Itani sat in the pool as if at a table, bent slightly forward, his eyes on the surface of the water like a man lost in thought. He looked up as she slammed the door closed behind her, and his eyes spoke of weariness and preparedness. Liat took a pose of query that bordered on accusation.
    ‘I meant to come look for you, love,’ he said.
    ‘Oh really?’ she said.
    ‘Yes.’
    His eyes returned to the shifting surface of the water. His bare shoulders hunched forward. Liat stepped to the edge of the pool and stared down at him, willing his gaze up to hers. He didn’t look.
    ‘There’s a conversation we need to have, love,’ he said. ‘We should have done before, I suppose, but . . .’
    ‘What are you thinking? Itani? What are you doing? Wilsin-cha just