servant boy to find them tea and something to eat.
'It didn't go well, I take it,' Radaani said.
'It didn't go well and it didn't go badly,' Otah said. 'He's smart enough to be frightened. 'That's good. I was afraid he'd be certain of himself. But his poet's dead. 'Tried to recapture his andat and paid its price.'
Radaani sighed.
'Did he agree to your plan, Most High?' Saya asked.
'No,' Otah said. 'tie's determined that Cetani not fall without a fight. I've told him we're leaving with him or without him. How was your hunting, Ashua-cha?'
Radaani leaned forward. His features were thinner than they had been in Machi, and the ring he turned on his finger wasn't so snug as it had once been.
'The court's frightened,' he said. 'There are a few people who came here from Yalakeht, and the stories… well, either they've grown in the telling, or it wasn't pretty there. And the couriers from Amnat- 'l an haven't come the last two days.'
'I'hat's bad,' Otah said. 'Will we have time, do you think?'
'I don't know,' Ashua said. He seemed to search for more words, but in the end only shook his head.
'Get the men ready,' Otah said. 'We'll give Cetani tomorrow to join us. After that, we'll head home. With enough time, we might be able to tear up some sections of the road behind us. Slow down the Galts, even if we can't do all we hoped against them.'
'What about the hooks?' Saya asked. 'If their poet's dead, it isn't as if they'll have need of them. Perhaps ours would make something of them.'
'I can ask,' Otah said. 'With luck, we'll have the books and the people and the food stores.'
'But the Khai refused you, Most High,' Sava said.
Otah smiled and shook his head. Only now that he found himself a moment to rest did the weariness drag at him. He tried to think how many days he'd been riding from first light to last. A lifetime, it felt like. He remembered the man who'd left Machi to save the I)ai-kvo, but it no longer felt like something he'd done himself. He was changing. Ills heart still ached at the thought of Kiyan and F, iah and I)anat. His apprehension at the struggle still before him was no less. And still, he was not the man he had once been, and to his surprise and unease, the man he was becoming seemed quite natural.
'Most High?' Saya repeated.
'Walking away from a negotiation isn't the same as ending it,' Otah said. 'Cetani's proud and he's lost, but he's not a fool. He wants to do what we're asking of him. He just hasn't found the way to say yes.'
'ou sound sure of that,' Saya said.
Otah chose his words carefully.
'If someone had come to me after that battle and said that they knew what to do, that they would take the responsibility, I would have given it to them. And that's just what I've offered him,' Utah said. 'The Khai Cetani will call for me. Tonight.'
He was wrong. The Khai Cetani didn't send for him until the next morning.
The man's eyes were bloodshot, his face slack from worry and exhaustion. Utah doubted the Khai Cetani had slept since they had spoken, and perhaps not for days before that. Through the wide, unshuttered windows, the morning was cold and gray, low clouds seeming to bring the sky no higher than a sparrow might fly. Utah sat on the divan set for him-rich velvet cloth studded with tiny pearls and silver thread, but smelling of dust and age. The most powerful man in Cetani sat across from him on an identical seat. That alone was a concession, and Utah noted it without giving sign one way or the other.
The Khai Cetani motioned the servants to leave them. From the hesitation and surprised glances, Otah took it that he'd rarely done so before. Some men, he supposed, were more comfortable with the constant attention.
'Convince me,' the Khai Cetani said when the doors were pulled closed and they were alone.
Otah took a pose of query.
'That you're right,' the Khai said. 'Convince me that you're right.'
'There was a hunger in the request, almost a need. Otah took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The fire in the grate popped and shifted while he gathered his thoughts. He had turned his plans over in his mind since he'd left the ruin of the I)ai-kvo's village. He'd honed them and tested them and stayed up late into the night despairing at their improbability only to wake in the morning convinced once more. The simplest answer was the best here, and he knew that, but still it was a struggle to find the words that made his mind clear.
'On the field, we can't match them,' he said. 'If we stay here and face them, we'll lose outright. There's nothing that can keep Cetani from falling to them. But they have two weaknesses. First, the steam wagons. They let them move faster than any group their size should be able to, but they're dangerous. It's a price they're prepared to pay, but they have underestimated the risks. If we start by breaking those-'
'The coal?'
Otah took a confirming pose.
''l'hey aren't built for forge coal,' he said. 'And the men we're facing? 'They're soldiers, not smiths and ironmongers. 'Where's no reason for them to look too closely at what they raid out of your stocks. Especially when they're pushing to get to Machi before the winter comes. If we leave them mixed coal, it'll burn too hot. The seams of their metalwork will soften, if the grates don't simply melt out from underneath.'
'And so they have to come on foot or by horse?'
Otah remembered the twisted metal from the I)ai-kvo's village and allowed himself a smile.
'When those wagons break, it's more than only stopping. 'They'll lose men just from that, and if we play it well, we can use the confusion to make things worse for them. And there's the other thing. They know we're going to lose. They have the strength, and we're unprepared. The only time we've faced them head-on, we were slaughtered. They know that we can't effectively fight them.'
'IThat's a weakness?' the Khai Cetani asked.
'l'es. It keeps them from paying attention. To them, it's already over. Everything's certain but the details. That something else might happen isn't likely to occur to them. Why should it?'
The Khai Cetani looked into the fire. 'I'he flames seemed to glitter in his dark eyes. When he spoke, his voice was grim.
''They've made all the same mistakes we did.'
Otah considered that for a moment before nodding.
'I'he Galts understand war,' he said. 'They're the best teachers I have. And so I'll do to them what they did to us.'
'And to do that, you would have rne-Khai of my own cityabandon Cetani to follow your lead?'
'Yes,' Otah said.
The Khai sat in silence for a long time, then rose. The rustle of his robes as he walked to the window was the only sound. Otah waited as the man looked out over the city. Over Cetani, the city for which this man had killed his brothers, for which he had given up his name. Otah felt the tension in his own hack and neck. Ile was asking this man to abandon everything, to walk away from the only role he had played in his life. Cetani would fall. It would be sacked. Even if everything went perfectly, there might he nothing to rebuild. And what would a Khai he if there was no city left him?
Many years before, Otah had asked another man to do the right thing, even though it would cost him his honor and prestige and the only place he had in the world. Heshai-kvo had refused, and he had died for the decision.
'Most High,' Otah began, but the Khai Cetani held up a hand to stop him without even so much as looking back. Otah could see it in the man's shoulders in the moment the decision was made; they lifted as if a burden had been taken from him.
18
Even the winter she had passed in Yalakeht had not prepared Liat for the fickleness of seasons in the North. Each day now was noticeably shorter than the one before, and even when the afternoons were warm, the sun
