Abraham Daniel - A Betrayal in Winter

of her breasts. To a man or a younger woman, Idaan might have seemed the

loveliest woman in the city. Hiami knew the difference between talent

and skill, but of the pair, she had greater respect for skill, so the

effect was much the same.

They each took poses of greeting, subtly different to mark Idaan's blood

relation to the Khai and Hiami's greater age and her potential to become

someday the first wife of the Khai Machi. The servant girl trotted in

with a good chair, placed it silently, and retreated. Hiami halted her

with a gesture and motioned to the singing slave. The servant girl took

a pose of obedience and led him off with her.

Hiami smiled and gestured toward the seat. Idaan took a pose of thanks

much less formal than her greeting had been and sat.

"Is my brother here?" she asked.

"No. There was a problem at one of the mines. I imagine he'll be there

for the day."

Idaan frowned, but stopped short of showing any real disapproval. All

she said was, "It must seem odd for one of the Khaiem to be slogging

through tunnels like a common miner."

"Men have their enthusiasms," Hiami said, smiling slightly. Then she

sobered. "Is there news of your father?"

Idaan took a pose that was both an affirmation and a denial.

"Nothing new, I suppose," the dark-haired girl said. "The physicians are

watching him. He kept his soup down again last night. That makes almost

ten days in a row. And his color is better."

"But?"

"But he's still dying," Idaan said. Her tone was plain and calm as if

she'd been talking about a horse or a stranger. Hiami put down her

thread, the half-finished scarf in a puddle by her ankles. The knot she

felt in the back of her throat was dread. The old man was dying, and the

thought carried its implications with it-the time was growing short.

Biitrah, Danat, and Kaiin Machi-the three eldest sons of the Khaihad

lived their lives in something as close to peace as the sons of the

Khaiem ever could. Utah, the Khai's sixth son, had created a small storm

all those years ago by refusing to take the brand and renounce his claim

to his father's chair, but he had never appeared. It was assumed that he

had forged his path elsewhere or died unknown. Certainly he had never

caused trouble here. And now every time their father missed his howl of

soup, every night his sleep was troubled and restless, the hour drew

nearer when the peace would have to break.

"How are his wives?" Hiami asked.

"Well enough," Idaan said. "Or some of them are. The two new ones from

Nantani and Pathai are relieved, I think. They're younger than I am, you

know."

"Yes. They'll be pleased to go back to their families. It's harder for

the older women, you know. Decades they've spent here. Going back to

cities they hardly remember ..."

Hiami felt her composure slip and clenched her hands in her lap. ldaan's

gaze was on her. Hiami forced a simple pose of apology.

"No. I'm sorry," Idaan said, divining, Hiami supposed, all the fear in

her heart from her gesture. Hiami's lovely, absent-minded, warm, silly

husband and lover might well die. All his string and carved wood models

and designs might fall to disuse, as abandoned by his slaughter as she

would be. If only he might somehow win. If only he might kill his own

brothers and let their wives pay this price, instead of her.

"It's all right, dear," Hiami said. "I can have him send a messenger to

VOL] when he returns if you like. It may not he until morning. If he

thinks the problem is interesting, he might be even longer."

"And then he'll want to sleep," Idaan said, half smiling, "and I might

not see or hear from him for days. And by then I'll have found some

other way to solve my problems, or else have given tip entirely."

Hiami had to chuckle. The girl was right, and somehow that little shared

intimacy made the darkness more bearable.

"Perhaps I can be of some use, then," Hiami said. "What brings you here,

sister?"

To Hiami's surprise, ldaan blushed, the real color seeming slightly

false under her powder.

"I've ... I wanted 13iitrah to speak to our father. About Adrah. Adrah

Vaunyogi. He and I ..."

"Ah," Hiami said. "I see. Have you missed a month?"

It took a moment for the girl to understand. I Ier blush deepened.

"No. It's not that. It's just that I think he may be the one. He's from

a good family," Idaan said quickly, as if she were already defending

him. "They have interests in a trading house and a strong bloodline and..."

Hiami took a pose that silenced the girl. Idaan looked down at her

hands, but then she smiled. The horrified, joyous smile of new love

discovered. Hiami remembered how once it had felt, and her heart broke

again.

"I will talk to him when he comes back, no matter how dearly he wants

his sleep," Hiami said.

"Thank you, Sister," Idaan said. "I should ... I should go."

"So soon?"

"I promised Adrah I'd tell him as soon as I spoke to my brother. He's

waiting in one of the tower gardens, and ..

Idaan took a pose that asked forgiveness, as if a girl needed to be

forgiven for wanting to he with a lover and not a woman her mother's age

knotting silk to fight the darkness in her heart. Hiami took a pose that

accepted the apology and released her. Idaan grinned and turned to go.

Just as the blue and gold of her robe was about to vanish through the

doorway, Hiami surprised herself by calling out.

"Does he make you laugh?"

Idaan turned, her expression questioning. Hiami's mind flooded again

with thoughts of Biitrah and of love and the prices it demanded.

"Your man. Adrah? If he doesn't make you laugh, Idaan, you mustn't marry

him."

Idaan smiled and took a pose of thanks appropriate for a pupil to her

master, and then was gone. Hiami swallowed until she was sure the fear

was under control again, picked up her knotwork and called for the slave

to return.

THE SUN WAS GONE, THE MOON A SLIVER NO WIDER THAN A NAIL CLIPPING. Only

the stars answered the miners' lanterns as Biitrah rose from the earth

into darkness. His robes were wet and clung to his legs, the gray and

violet turned to a uniform black. The night air was bitingly cold. The

mine dogs yipped anxiously and paced in their kennels, their breath

pluming like his own. The chief engineer of House Daikani's mines took a

pose of profound thanks, and Biitrah replied graciously, though his

fingers were numb and awkward as sausages.

"If it does that again, call for me," he said.

"Yes, most high," the engineer said. "As you command."

Biitrah's guard walked him to the chair, and his bearers lifted him. It

was only now, with the work behind him and the puzzles all solved, that

he felt the exhaustion. The thought of being carried back to the palaces

in the cold and mud of springtime was only slightly less odious than the

option of walking under his own power. He gestured to the chief armsman

of his guard.

"We'll stay in the low town tonight. The usual wayhouse."

The armsman took a pose of acknowledgment and strode forward, leading

his men and his bearers and himself into the unlit streets. Biitrah

pulled his arms inside his robes and hugged hare flesh to flesh. The

first shivers were beginning. He half regretted now that he hadn't

disrobed before wading down to the lowest levels of the mine.

Ore was rich down in the plain-enough silver to keep Machi's coffers

full even had there been no other mines here and in the mountains to the