Shadow and Betrayal

asked.
    ‘There’s business,’ Marchat said. ‘The same as always.’
    ‘Business, then. I take it that things went well.’
    He shot an annoyed glance at her, then looked away.
    ‘Couldn’t we start with the contracts with the dyers?’
    ‘If you’d like,’ Amat said. ‘Was there something pressing with them?’
    Her voice carried the whole load of sarcasm to cover the outrage and anger. And fear. Marchat took a clumsy pose of surrender and acquiescence before reaching over and taking his own bowl of tea from the tray.
    ‘I’m going to a meeting with the Khai and several of the higher utkhaiem. Spend the whole damn time falling on my sword over the sad trade. I’ve promised a full investigation.’
    ‘And what are you going to find?’
    ‘The truth, I imagine. That’s the secret of a good lie, you know. Coming to a place where you believe it yourself. I expect our investigation - or anyone else’s - will show it was Oshai, the translator. He and his men plotted the whole thing under the direction of the andat Seedless. They found the girl, they brought her to us under false pretenses. I have letters of introduction that I’ll turn over to the Khai’s men. They’ll discover that the letters are forged. House Wilsin will be looked upon as a collection of dupes. At best, it will take us years to recover our reputation.’
    ‘It’s a small price,’ Amat said. ‘What if they find Oshai?’
    ‘They won’t.’
    ‘You’re sure of that?’
    ‘Yes,’ Wilsin said with a great sigh. ‘I’m sure.’
    ‘And Liat?’
    ‘Still being questioned,’ Marchat said. ‘I imagine she’ll be out by the end of the day. We’ll need to do something for her. To make this right. She’s not going to come out of this with a reputation for competence intact. They’ve already spoken with the island girl. She didn’t have anything very coherent to say, I’m afraid. But it’s over, Amat. That’s really the only bright thing I can say of the whole stinking business. The worst that was going to happen has happened, and now we can get to cleaning up after it and moving on.’
    ‘And what’s the truth?’
    ‘What I told you,’ he said. ‘That’s the truth. It’s the only truth that matters.’
    ‘No. The real truth. Who sent those pearls? And don’t tell me the spirit conjured them out of the sea.’
    ‘Who knows?’ Marchat said. ‘Oshai told us they were from Nippu, from the girl’s family. We had no reason to think otherwise.’
    Amat slapped the water. She felt the rage pulling her brow together. Marchat met her anger with his. His pale face flushed red, his chin slid forward belligerently like a boy in a play yard.
    ‘I am saving you,’ he said. ‘And I am saving the house. I am doing everything I can to kill this thing and bury it, and by all the gods, Amat, I know as well as you that it was rotten, but what do you want me to do about it? Trot up to the Khai and apologize? Where did the pearls come from? Galt, Amat. They came from Acton and Lanniston and Cole. Who arranged the thing? Galts. And who will pay for this if that story is proved instead of mine? I’ll be killed. You’ll be exiled if you’re lucky. The house will be destroyed. And do you think it’ll stop there, Amat? Do you? Because I don’t.’
    ‘It was evil, Marchat.’
    ‘Yes. Yes, it was evil. Yes, it was wrong,’ he said, motioning so violently that his tea splashed, the red tint of if diffusing quickly in the bath. ‘But it was decided before anyone consulted us. By the time you or I or any of us were told, it was already too late. It needed doing, and so we’ve done it.
    ‘Tell me, Amat, what happens if you’re the Khai Saraykeht and you find out your pet god’s been conspiring with your trade rivals? Do you stop with the tools, because that’s all we are. Tools. Or do you teach a lesson to the Galts that they won’t soon forget? We haven’t got any andat of our own, so there’s nothing to restrain you. We can’t hit back. Do our crops fail? Do all the women with child in Galt lose their children over this? They’re as innocent as that island girl, Amat. They’ve done as little to deserve that as she has.’
    ‘Lower your voice,’ Amat said. ‘Someone will hear you.’
    Marchat leaned back, glancing nervously at the windows, the door. Amat shook her head.
    ‘That was a pretty speech,’ she said. ‘Did you practice it?’
    ‘Some, yes.’
    ‘And who were you hoping to convince with it? Me, or