Read Online Shadow and Betrayal by Daniel Abraham - Free Book Online
Authors: Daniel Abraham
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yourself a headache.’
‘The mistake was mine, Amat-cha. It isn’t Itani’s fault that I lost the contracts. Punishing him for my error is . . .’
‘It isn’t a punishment, Liat-kya,’ Amat said, using the familiar -kya to reassure her. ‘I just need him to do me this favor. And, when he comes back tomorrow, I want him to tell you all about the journey. What town he went to, who was there, how long the meeting went. Everything he can remember. Not to anyone else; just to you. And then you to me.’
Liat took the papers and tucked them into her sleeve. The line was still between her brows. Amat wanted to reach over and smooth it out with her thumb, like it was a stray mark on paper. The girl was thinking too much. Perhaps this was a poor idea after all. Perhaps she should take the orders back.
But then she wouldn’t discover what business Marchat Wilsin was doing without her.
‘Can you do this for me, Liat-kya?’
‘Of course, but . . . is something going on, Amat-cha?’
‘Yes, but don’t concern yourself with it. Just do as I ask, and I’ll take care of the rest.’
Liat took a pose of acceptance and leave-taking. Amat responded with thanks and dismissal appropriate for a supervisor to an apprentice. Liat went down the stairs, and Amat heard her close the door behind her as she went. Outside, the fireflies shone and vanished, brighter now as twilight dimmed the city. She watched the streets: the firekeeper at the corner with his banked kiln, the young men in groups heading west into the soft quarter, ready to trade lengths of silver and copper for pleasures that would be gone by morning. And there, among them, Liat Chokavi walking briskly to the east, toward the warehouses and laborers’ quarters, the dyeworks and the weavers.
Amat watched until the girl vanished around a corner, passing beyond recall, then she went down and barred her door.
2
T he boundary arch on the low road east of Saraykeht was a short walk from the Wilsin compound. They reached it in about the time it took the crescent moon to shift the width of two of Marchat’s thick fingers. Buildings and roads continued, splaying out into the high grasses and thick trees, but once they passed through the pale stone arch wide enough for three carts to pass through together and high as a tree, they had left the city.
‘In Galt, there’d have been a wall,’ Marchat said.
The young man, Itani, took a pose of query.
‘Around the city,’ Marchat said. ‘To protect it in time of war. We didn’t have andat to aim at each other like your ancestors did. In Kirinton, where I was born, anytime you were bad, the Lord Watchman set you to repairing the wall.’
‘Can’t have been pleasant,’ Itani agreed.
‘What do they do in Saraykeht when a boy’s caught stealing a pie?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Never misbehaved as a child?’
Itani grinned. He had a strong smile.
‘Rarely caught,’ Itani said. Marchat laughed.
They made an odd pair, he thought. Him, an old Galt with a walking staff as much to lean on as to swipe at dogs if the occasion arose, and this broad-backed, stone-armed young man in the rough canvas of a laborer. Not so odd, he hoped, as to attract attention.
‘Noyga’s your family name? Noyga. Yes. You work on Muhatia’s crew, don’t you?’
‘He’s a good man, Muhatia,’ Itani said.
‘I hear he’s a prick.’
‘That too,’ Itani agreed, in the same cheerful tone of voice. ‘A lot of the men don’t like working with him. He’s got a sharp tongue, and he hates running behind schedule.’
‘You don’t mind him, though?’
Itani shrugged. It was another point in his favor. The boy disliked his overseer, that was clear, and yet here he was, alone with the head of the house and not willing to tell tales against him. It spoke well of him, and that was good for more than one reason. That he could trust Itani’s discretion made his night one degree less awful.
‘What else
‘The mistake was mine, Amat-cha. It isn’t Itani’s fault that I lost the contracts. Punishing him for my error is . . .’
‘It isn’t a punishment, Liat-kya,’ Amat said, using the familiar -kya to reassure her. ‘I just need him to do me this favor. And, when he comes back tomorrow, I want him to tell you all about the journey. What town he went to, who was there, how long the meeting went. Everything he can remember. Not to anyone else; just to you. And then you to me.’
Liat took the papers and tucked them into her sleeve. The line was still between her brows. Amat wanted to reach over and smooth it out with her thumb, like it was a stray mark on paper. The girl was thinking too much. Perhaps this was a poor idea after all. Perhaps she should take the orders back.
But then she wouldn’t discover what business Marchat Wilsin was doing without her.
‘Can you do this for me, Liat-kya?’
‘Of course, but . . . is something going on, Amat-cha?’
‘Yes, but don’t concern yourself with it. Just do as I ask, and I’ll take care of the rest.’
Liat took a pose of acceptance and leave-taking. Amat responded with thanks and dismissal appropriate for a supervisor to an apprentice. Liat went down the stairs, and Amat heard her close the door behind her as she went. Outside, the fireflies shone and vanished, brighter now as twilight dimmed the city. She watched the streets: the firekeeper at the corner with his banked kiln, the young men in groups heading west into the soft quarter, ready to trade lengths of silver and copper for pleasures that would be gone by morning. And there, among them, Liat Chokavi walking briskly to the east, toward the warehouses and laborers’ quarters, the dyeworks and the weavers.
Amat watched until the girl vanished around a corner, passing beyond recall, then she went down and barred her door.
2
T he boundary arch on the low road east of Saraykeht was a short walk from the Wilsin compound. They reached it in about the time it took the crescent moon to shift the width of two of Marchat’s thick fingers. Buildings and roads continued, splaying out into the high grasses and thick trees, but once they passed through the pale stone arch wide enough for three carts to pass through together and high as a tree, they had left the city.
‘In Galt, there’d have been a wall,’ Marchat said.
The young man, Itani, took a pose of query.
‘Around the city,’ Marchat said. ‘To protect it in time of war. We didn’t have andat to aim at each other like your ancestors did. In Kirinton, where I was born, anytime you were bad, the Lord Watchman set you to repairing the wall.’
‘Can’t have been pleasant,’ Itani agreed.
‘What do they do in Saraykeht when a boy’s caught stealing a pie?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Never misbehaved as a child?’
Itani grinned. He had a strong smile.
‘Rarely caught,’ Itani said. Marchat laughed.
They made an odd pair, he thought. Him, an old Galt with a walking staff as much to lean on as to swipe at dogs if the occasion arose, and this broad-backed, stone-armed young man in the rough canvas of a laborer. Not so odd, he hoped, as to attract attention.
‘Noyga’s your family name? Noyga. Yes. You work on Muhatia’s crew, don’t you?’
‘He’s a good man, Muhatia,’ Itani said.
‘I hear he’s a prick.’
‘That too,’ Itani agreed, in the same cheerful tone of voice. ‘A lot of the men don’t like working with him. He’s got a sharp tongue, and he hates running behind schedule.’
‘You don’t mind him, though?’
Itani shrugged. It was another point in his favor. The boy disliked his overseer, that was clear, and yet here he was, alone with the head of the house and not willing to tell tales against him. It spoke well of him, and that was good for more than one reason. That he could trust Itani’s discretion made his night one degree less awful.
‘What else
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