Shadow and Betrayal

section of the book, what Heshai called his corrected version. Maati looked up and found the andat on the bridge, looking back at him. The perfect planes of his cheeks, the amused intelligence in his eyes. Maati’s mind was still half within the work that had formed them.
    Seedless took a pose of greeting formal and beautiful, and strode across the rest of the span towards him. Maati closed the book.
    ‘You’re being studious,’ Seedless said as he drew near. ‘Fascinating, isn’t it? Useless, but fascinating.’
    ‘I don’t see why it would be useless.’
    ‘His corrected version is too near what he did before. I can’t be bound the same way twice. You know that. So writing a variation on a complete work makes about as much sense as apologizing to someone you’ve just killed. You don’t mind that I join you.’
    The andat stretched out on the grass, his dark eyes turned to the south and the palaces and, invisible beyond them, the city. The perfect fingers plucked at the grass.
    ‘It lets others see the mistakes he made,’ Maati said.
    ‘If it showed them the mistakes they were making, it would be useful,’ Seedless said. ‘Some errors you can only see once you’ve committed them.’
    Maati took a pose that could be taken as agreement or mere politeness. Seedless smiled and pitched a blade of grass toward the water.
    ‘Where’s Heshai-kvo?’
    ‘Who knows? The soft quarter, most likely. Or some teahouse that rents out rooms by the ships. He’s not looking to tomorrow with glee in his heart. And what about you, my boy? You’ve turned out to be a better study than I’d have guessed. You’ve already mastered staying out, consorting with men below your station, and missing meetings. It took Heshai years to really get the hang of that.’
    ‘Bitter?’ Maati said. Seedless laughed and shifted to look at him directly. The beautiful face was rueful and amused.
    ‘I had a bad day,’ the andat said. ‘I found something I’d lost, and it turned out not to have been worth finding. And you? Feeling ready for the grand ceremony tomorrow?’
    Maati took a pose of affirmation. The andat grinned, and then like a candle melting, his expression turned to something else, something conflicted that Maati couldn’t entirely read. The cicadas in their trees went silent suddenly as if they were a single voice. A moment later, they began again.
    ‘Is there . . .’ the andat said, and trailed off, taking a pose that asked for silence while Seedless reconsidered his words. Then, ‘Maati-kya. If there was something you wanted of me. Some favor you would ask of me, even now. Something that I might do or . . . or forbear. Ask, and I’ll do it. Whatever it is. For you, I’ll do it.’
    Maati looked at the pale face, the skin that seemed to glow like porcelain in the failing light.
    ‘Why?’ Maati asked. ‘Why would you offer that to me?’
    Seedless smiled and shifted with the sound of fine cloth against grass.
    ‘To see what you’d ask,’ Seedless said.
    ‘What if I asked for something you didn’t want to give me?’
    ‘It would be worth it,’ Seedless said. ‘It would tell me something about your heart, and knowing that would justify some very high prices. Anything you want to have started, or anything you want to stop.’
    Maati felt the beginning of a blush and shifted forward, considering the surface of the pond and the fish - pale and golden - beneath it. When he spoke, his voice was low.
    ‘Tomorrow, when the time comes for the . . . when Heshai-kvo is set to finish the sad trade, don’t fight him. I saw the two of you with the cotton when I first came, and I’ve seen you since. You always make him force you. You always make him struggle to accomplish the thing. Don’t do that to him tomorrow.’
    Seedless nodded, a sad smile on his perfect, soft lips.
    ‘You’re a sweet boy. You deserve better than us,’ the andat said. ‘I’ll do as you ask.’
    They sat in silence as the sunlight faded - the stars glimmering first a few, then a handful, then thousands upon thousands. The palaces glowed with lanterns, and sometimes Maati caught a thread of distant music.
    ‘I should light the night candle,’ Maati said.
    ‘If you wish,’ Seedless said, but Maati found he wasn’t rising or returning to the house. Instead, he was staring at the figure before him, a thought turning restlessly in his mind. The subtle weight of the leather book in his sleeve and Seedless’ strange, quiet expression