"How did you find out?"
"I listened. I lied. The normal things anyone would do who wanted to know something hidden. You've seen Liat?"
"Not yet, no."
"You know what happened to her, though? The tiles?"
"Maati told me."
"It wasn't an accident," the andat said. "They were thrown."
Otah frowned, aware that Seedless was peering at him, reading his expressions and movement. He forced himself to remain casual.
"Was it you?"
"Me? Gods, no," Seedless said, sitting on a couch, his legs tucked up beneath him like they were old friends chatting. "In the first place I wouldn't have done it. In the second, I wouldn't have missed. No, it was Marchat Wilsin and his men."
Otah leaned forward, letting the smile he felt show on his face. The andat didn't move, even to breathe.
"You know there's no sane reason that I should believe anything you say."
"True," the andat said. "But hear me out first, and then you can disbelieve my little story entirely instead of just one bit at a time."
"There's no reason Wilsincha would want to hurt Liat."
"Yes, there is. His sins are creeping back to kill him, you see. That little incident with the island girl and her dead get? It was more than it seemed. Listen carefully when I say this. It's the kind of thing men are killed for knowing, so it's worth paying attention. The High Council of Galt arranged that little mess. Wilsincha helped. Amat Kyaan—his overseer—found out and is dedicating what's left of her life to prying the whole sordid thing open like it was shellfish. Wilsincha in his profoundly finite wisdom is cleaning up anything that might be of use to Amatcha. Including Liat."
Otah took a pose of impatience and stood, looking for his cloak.
"I've had enough of this . . ."
"I know who you are, boy. Sit back down or I'll end all your choices for you, and you can spend the rest of your life running from your brothers over a chair you don't even want to sit in."
Otah paused and then sat.
"Good. The Galtic Council had a plan to ally themselves with the andat. We poor suffering spirits get our freedom. The Galts kick out the supports that keep the cities of the Khaiem above the rest of the world. Then they roll over you like you were just another Westlands warden, only with more gold and fewer soldiers. It's a terrible plan."
"Is it?"
"Yes. Andat aren't predictable. That's what makes us the same, you and I. Ah, relax, Otah-cha. You look like I have a knife at your belly."
"I think you do," Otah said.
The andat leaned back, gesturing at the empty house around them—the crackling fire, the falling rain.
"There's no one to hear us. Anything we say to each other, you and I, is between us unless we choose otherwise."
"And I should trust you to keep quiet?"
"Of course not. Don't be an ass. But the less you say, the less I can repeat to others, eh? Right. Amat's near getting what she needs. And she won't stop. She's a pit hound at heart. Do you know what happens when she does?"
"She'll take it to the Khai."
"Yes!" the andat said, clapping his hands together once as if it were a festival game and Otah had earned a prize. "And what would he do?"
"I don't know."
"No? You disappoint me. He'd do something bloody and gaudy and out of all proportion. Something that sounded like a plague from the old epics. My guess—it's only my opinion, of course, but I consider myself fairly expert on the subject of unrestrained power—he'll turn me and Heshai against whatever Galtic women are carrying babes when he learns of it. It will be like pulling seeds out of a cotton bale. A thousand, maybe. More. Who can say?"
"It would break Heshai," Otah said. "Doing that."
"No. It wouldn't. It would bend him double, but it wouldn't break him. Seeing the one child die in front of him didn't do it, and tragedy fades with distance. Put it close enough to your eye, and a thumb can blot out a mountain. A few thousand dead Galt babies will hurt him, but he won't have to watch it happen. A few bottles of cheap wine, a few black months. And then he'll train Maati. Maati will have all the loneliness, all the self-hatred, all the pain of holding me in check for all the rest of his life. That's already happening. Heshai fell in love and lost her, and he's been chewed by guilt ever since. Maati will do the same."
"No, he won't," Otah said.
Seedless laughed.
"More the fool, you. But let it go. Let it go and look at the near term. Here's my promise, Otah of Machi. Amat will make her case. Liat may be killed before it comes before the Khai, or she may not, but Amat will make her case. Innocent blood will wash Galt. Maati will suffer to the end of his days. Oh, and I'll betray you to your family, though I think it's really very small of you to be concerned about that. Your problems don't amount to much, you know." Seedless paused. "Do you understand me?"