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Morning seemed like any other for nearly an hour, and then the news cah the coone, the poet killed - she ran to the palaces She forgot her own safety, if there was safety to be had anywhere When she finally crossed the wooden bridge over water tea-broith dead leaves, her sides ached, her wounded shoulder throbbed with her heartbeat
She didn&039;t knohat she would say She didn&039;t kno she would tell him
When she opened the door, she knew there was no need
The comfortable, finely appointed furniture was cast to the walls, the carpets pulled back A wide stretch of pale wooden flooring lay bare and e The air smelled of rain and smoke Maati, dressed in formal robes poorly tied, knelt in the center of the space His skin was ashen, his hair half-wild A book lay open before hies covered in beautiful script He was chanting, a soft sibilant flow that seeainst the walls and move back into itself, as complex as music Liat watched, fascinated, as Maati shifted back and forth his lips ainst her without disturbing the folds of her robes A sense of profound presence, like standing before the Khai only a thousand times as intense and a thousand times less humane
"Stop this!" she screamed even, it see through the thick presence, the air as oppressive as a furnace, but with so besides heat Maati seemed to hear her voice distantly His head turned, his eyes opened, and he lost the thread of the chant Echoes fell out of phase with each other, their rhyth into ain except for the two of them
"You can&039;t," she said "You said that it was too near what Heshai had done before You said that it couldn&039;t work You said so, Maati"
"I have to try," he said The words were so simple they left her es tucked beneath her Maati blinked like he was only half-awake "I have to try I think, perhaps, if I don&039;t waitif I do it now, oneI can pull him back before Heshai&039;s work has entirely "
It hat she needed, hearing the poet&039;s na to speak to Liat took his hand in hers He winced a little, and she relaxed her grip, but not enough to let hio
"Heshai&039;s dead, Maati He&039;s gone And whether he&039;s dead for an hour or a year, he&039;s just as dead SeedlessSeedless is gone They&039;re both gone"
Maati shook his head
"I can&039;t believe that," he said "I understand Heshai better than anyone else I know Seedless It&039;s early, and there isn&039;t much time, but if I can only "
"It&039;s too late It&039;s too late, and if you do this, it&039;s no better than sinking yourself in the river You&039;ll die, Maati You told me that You did If a poet fails to capture the andat, he dies And this " she nodded to the open book written in a dead man&039;s hand "It won&039;t work You&039;re the one who said so"
"It&039;s different," he said
"How?"
"Because I have to try I&039;m a poet, love It&039;s what I am And you knoell as I do that if Seedless escapes, there&039;s nothing There&039;s nothing to take his place"
"So there&039;s nothing," she said
"Saraykeht "
"Saraykeht is a city, Maati It&039;s roads and walls and people and warehouses and statues It doesn&039;t know you It doesn&039;t love you It&039;s me who does that I love you Please, Maati, do not do this"
Slowly, carefully, Maati took his hand from hers When he so," he said "I have so I need to do If it works out as I hope, I&039;ll find you"
Liat rose The room was hazy with tears, but sorroasn&039;t are fueled by pain
"You can kill yourself if you like," she said "You can do this thing now and die, and they may even talk about you like a hero But I&039;ll know better"
She turned and walked out, her heart straining On the steps, she stopped The sun shone cool over the bare trees She closed her eyes, waiting to hear the griain behind her Crows hopped froether and streamed off to the south She stood for al into her flesh
She wondered how long she could wait there She wondered where Itani was now, and if he knehat had happened If he would ever forgive her for loving more than one man She chewed at the inside of her cheek until it hurt
Behind her, the door scraped open Maati looked defeated He was tucking the leather bound book into his sleeve as he stepped out to her
"Well," he said "I&039;ll have to go back to the Dai-kvo and tell hi her head against his shoulder He arht For aof Itani&039;s broad arms and the scent of his skin
"Thank you," she said
IT WAS three weeks now since the poet had died Three weeks was too long, Amat knew, for a city to hold its breath The tension was still there - the uncertainty, the fear It showed in the faces of the men and women in the street and in the way they held their bodies Ary words of drunkards in the soft quarter streets But the initial shock was fading Ti the andat, was , drew her out, away from the protection of the coray of winter fog, the streets were like ed, took shape, and forlistened in the carvings of ship and fish, eagle and archer And then as she passed, they faded, beco more She stopped at a stand by the seafront to buy a paper sack of roasted alar The woratitude, and A the half-hidden waves, the thousand se and incense She blew sharply through pursed lips to cool the sweets before she bit into theirl, and she prepared herself for the lastWhen the sack was empty, she crumpled it and let it drop into the sea
House Wilsin was a the first to make its position on the future known by its actions Even as she walked up the streets to the north,the other way The warehouses were being cleared, the offices packed into crates bound for Galt and the Westlands When she reached the familiar courtyard, the lines of arcane She paused at the bronze Galtic Tree, considering it with distaste and, to her surprise, a, apparently, for her to hold her breath either
"Amat-cha?"
She shifted Epani, her thin-faced, weak-spirited replacement, stood in a pose of welcome belied by the discomfort on his face She answered it with a pose of her own, raceful and appropriate
"Tell him I&039;d like to speak with him, will you?"
"He isn&039;tthat is "
"Epani-cha Go, tell him I&039;m here and I want to speak with him I won&039;t burn the place dohile you do it"
Perhaps it was the dig that set hi Whatever did it, Epani retreated into the dark recesses of the co to the play of the water as though it was the voice of an old friend Soths thrown in for luck House Wilsin wasn&039;t leaving anything behind
Epani returned and without a word led her back through the corridors she knew to the privaterooms The room was as dark as she remembered it Marchat Wilsin hiht froe flaht al and gratitude Moving as if unsure of himself, Marchat responded with one of welcoain," he said, and his voice was careful
"And yet, here I a, just as everyone said it was Bad for business, Marchat-cha It looks like a failure of nerve"
"It is," he said There was no apology in his voice Theyin Saraykeht&039;s too risky now My uncle&039;s calling me back ho moment of sanity, and what he saw scared hi at a loss It&039;ll take years for the house to recover And, of course, I&039;m scheduled on the last boat out So Have you co your suit to the Khai?"
Amat took a pose, more casual than she&039;d intended, that requested clarification It was an irony, and Marchat&039;s sheepish grin showed that he knew it
"My position isn&039;t as strong as it was before the victim best placed to stir the heart of the utkhaiem killed the poet and destroyed the city I lost a certain credibility"
"Was it really her, then?"
"I don&039;t know for certain It appears it was"
"I&039;d say I was sorry, but "
A to this man across tables like this, or in the cool waters of the bathhouse, or walking together in the streets She felt theh and shook her head
"I did what I could," she said "Nownoould believe ht still One of the other Khaieht that was true, you&039;d havelike pain in the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes So like sorrow
"I wouldn&039;t enjoy it," he said at last
Despite the truth of it, Ahed Or perhaps because of it
"Is Liat Chokavi still with you?" Marchat asked, then took a pose that offered reassurance "It&039;s just that I have a box of her things Mostly her things Some others y, but "
"Unfortunately, no," Aods all know I could use co my books But she&039;s left with the poet boy It seems they&039;re heartmates"
Marchat chuckled
"Oh, that&039;ll end well," he said with surprisingly gentle sarcas us a pot of tea," A useful Then there&039;s business we need to talk through"
Marchat did as she asked, and minutes later, she cupped a s across the stea surface Marchat poured a bowl for himself, but didn&039;t drink it Instead, he folded his hands together and rested his great, whiskered chin in them The silence wasn&039;t a ploy on his part; she could see that He didn&039;t knohat to say ItI want of you," she said
"I&039;ll do what I can," he said
"The warehouses on the Nantan I want to rent them from House Wilsin"