An Autumn War(8)

And now it was spring, and she saw no prospect of sleeping in a bed she might call her own any time soon. Nayiit had not complained when it became clear that their investigation would require a journey to the village of the Dai-kvo. As a woman, Liat was not permitted beyond the low towns approaching it. She would need a man to do her business within the halls of the Dai-kvo's palaces. They had hooked passage to Yalakeht, and then upriver. They had arrived at mid-autumn and hardly finished their investigation before Candles Night. So far North, there had been no ship hack to Saraykeht, and Liat had taken apartments for them in the narrow, gated streets of Yalakeht for the winter.

In the long, dark hours she had struggled with what she knew, and with the thaw and the first ships taking passages North, she had prepared to travel to AmnatTan, and then Cetani. And then, though the prospect made her sick with anxiety, Nlachi.

A shout rose on the deck above them-a score of men calling out to each other-and the ship lurched and boomed. Nayiit blinked awake, looked over at her, and smiled. He always had had a good smile.

"Have I missed anything?" he asked with a yawn.

"We've reached the low towns outside AmnatTan," Liat said. "We'll be docked soon."

Nayiit swung his legs around, planting them on the deck to keep his hammock from rocking. He looked ruefully around the tiny cabin and sighed.

"I'll start packing our things, then," he said.

"Pack them separate," she said. "I'll go the rest of the way myself. I want you back in Saraykeht."

Nayiit took a pose that refused this, and Liat felt her jaw tighten.

"We've had this conversation, Mother. I'm not putting you out to walk the North Road by yourself."

"I'll hire a seat on a caravan," she said. "Spring's just opening, and there are hound to be any number of them going to Cetani and back. It's not such a long journey, really."

"Good. Then it won't take too long for us to get there."

"You're going hack," Liat said.

Nayiit sighed and gathered himself visibly.

"Fine," he said. "Make your argument. Convince me."

Liat looked at her hands. It was the same problem she'd fought all through the long winter. Each time she'd come close to speaking the truth, something had held her hack. Secrets. It all came back to secrets, and if she spoke her fears to Nayiit, it would mean telling him things that only she knew, things that she had hoped might die with her.

"Is it about my father?" he said, and his voice was so gentle, Liat felt tears gathering in her eyes.

"In a way," she said.

"I know he's at the court of Machi," Nayiit said. "There's no reason for me to fear him, is there? Everything you've said of him-"

"No, Maati would never hurt you. Or me. It's just ... it was so long ago. And I don't know who he's become since then."

Nayiit leaned forward, taking her hands in his.

"I want to meet him," he said. "Not because of who he was to you, or who he is now. I want to meet him because he's my father. Ever since Tai came, I've been thinking about it. About what it would be for me to walk away from my boy and not come hack. About choosing something else over my family."

"It wasn't like that," Liat said. "Maati and I were . .

"I've come this far," he said gently. "You can't send me hack now."

"You don't understand," she said.

"You can explain to me while I pack our things."

In the end, of course, he won. She had known he would. Nayiit could be as soft and gentle and implacable as snowfall. He was his father's son.

The calls of gulls grew louder as they neared the shore, the scent of smoke more present. The docks were narrower than the seafront of Saraykeht. A ship that put in here for the winter had to prepare itself to he icebound, immobile. 'T'rade was with the eastern islands and Yalakeht; it was too far from the summer cities or Bakta or Galt for ships to come from those distant ports.

The streets were black cobbles, and ice still haunted the alleys where shadows held the cold. Nayiit carried their crate strapped across his back. The wide leather belt cut into his shoulders, but he didn't complain. He rarely complained about anything, only did what he thought best with a pleasant smile and a calm explanation ready to hand.

Liat stopped at a firekeeper's kiln to ask directions to the compound of House Radaani and was pleased to discover it was nearby. Mother and son, they walked the fog-shrouded streets until they found the wide arches that opened to the courtyard gardens of the Radaani, torches flickering and guttering in the damp air. A boy in sodden robes rushed up and lifted the crate from Nayiit's back to his own. Liat was about to address him when another voice, a woman's voice lovely and low as a singer's, came from the dim.