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it wasn't my place. But later I decided that the real test was how I spent my time. Being patient and idle wouldn't teach me anything, and the Khai has the largest library in the summer cities."
    "You spent your time in the library?"
    Maati took a pose of confirmation, unsure what to make of the teacher's tone.
    "These are the palaces of the Khai Saraykeht, Maati-kya," he said with sudden familiarity as he gestured out the window at the grounds, the palaces, the long flow of streets and red tile roofs that sprawled to the sea. "There are scores of utkhaiem and courtiers. I don't think a night passes here without a play being performed, or singers, or dancing. And you spent all your time with the scrolls?"
    "I did spent one evening with a group of the utkhaiem. They were from the west . . . from Pathai. I lived there before I went to the school."
    "And you thought they might have news of your family."
    It wasn't an accusation, though it could have been. Maati pressed his lips thinner, embarrassed, and repeated the pose of confirmation. The smile it brought seemed sympathetic.
    "And what did you learn in your productive, studious days with Saraykeht's books."
    "I studied the history of the city and its andat."
    The elegant fingers made a motion that both approved and invited him to continue. The dark eyes held an interest that told Maati he had done well.
    "I learned, for example, that the Dai-kvo—the last one—sent you here when Iana-kvo failed to hold Petals-Falling-Away after the old poet, Miat-kvo, died."
    "And tell me, why do you think he did that?"
    "Because Petals-Falling-Away had been used to speed cotton harvests for the previous fifty years," Maati said, pleased to know the answer. "It could make the plant . . . open, I guess. It made it easier to get the fibers. With the loss, the city needed another way to make the process—bringing in the raw cotton and turning it to cloth—better and faster than they could in Galt or the Westlands, or else the traders might go elsewhere, and the whole city would have to change. You had captured Removing-The-Part-That-Continues. Called Sterile in the North, or Seedless in the summer cities. With it, the merchant houses can contract with the Khai, and they won't have to comb the seeds out of the cotton. Even if it took twice as long to harvest, the cotton can still get to the spinners more quickly here than anywhere else. Now the other nations and cities actually send their raw cotton here. Then the weavers come here, because the raw cotton is here. And the dyers and the tailors because of the weavers. All the needle trades."
    "Yes. And so Saraykeht holds its place, with only a few more pricked fingers and some blood on the cotton," the man said, taking a pose of confirmation with a softness to the wrists that confused Maati. "But then, blood's only blood, ne?"
    The silence went on until Maati, uncomfortable, grasped for something to break it.
    "You also rid the summer cities of rats and snakes."
    The man came out of his reverie with something like a smile. When he spoke, his voice was amused and self-deprecating.
    "Yes. At the price of drawing Galts and Westermen."
    Maati took a pose of agreement less formal than before, and his teacher seemed not to mind. In fact, he seemed almost pleased.
    "I also learned a lot about the particular needle trades," Maati said. "I wasn't sure how much you needed to know about what happens with the cotton once you're done with it. And sailing. I read a book about sailing."
    "But you didn't actually go to the seafront, did you?"
    "No."
    The teacher took a pose of acceptance that wasn't approval or disapproval, but something of both.
    "All this from one little test," he said. "But then, you came through the school very young, so you must have a talent for seeing tests. Tell me. How did you see through the Dai-kvo's little guessing games?"
    "You . . . I'm sorry, Heshaikvo. It's . . . you really want to know that?"
    "It can be telling. Especially