Gan t’Hnes was a venerable old man and, looking at him, Kurt found reason that Kta should trust him. He was solidly Indras, this patriarch of Actuary’s trading empire. His house on the hill was wealthy and proper, the hearthfire tended by lady Na t’Ilev e Ben sh’Kma, wife to the eldest of Gan’s three sons, who himself was well into years. Lord Gan was a widower, the oldest nemet Kurt had seen; to consider that nemet lived long and very scarcely showed age, he must be ancient.
Of course formalities preceded any discussion of business, all the nemet rituals. There was a young woman, granddaughter to the chan of Hnes. She made the tea and served it, and seeing her from the back, her graceful carriage and the lustrous darkness of her hair, Kurt thought of Mim. She
even looked a little like her in the face, and when he knelt down and offered him a cup of tea he stared, and felt a pain that brought tears to his eyes.
The girl bowed her head, cheeks flushing at being gazed at by a man, and Kurt took the cup and looked down and drank his tea, thoughts returning in the quiet and peace of this Indras home that had not touched him since that night in Nephane. It was like coming home, for he had never expected to set foot in a friendly house again; and yet home was Elas, and Mim, and both were gone.
Hnes was a large family, ruled of course by Gan, and by Kma, his eldest, and lady Na. There were others of the house too, one son being away at sea. There was the aged chan, Dek, his two daughters and several grandchildren; Gan’s second son Lei and his wife Pym and concubine Tekje h’Hnes; Lei’s daughter Imue, a charming child of about twelve, who might be the daughter of either of his two wives-she had Tekje’s Sufak-tilted eyes, but sat beside Pym and treated both her mothers with respectful affection; and there were two small boys, both sons of Lei.
The first round of tea was passed with quiet conversation. The nemet were curious about Kurt, the children actually frightened, but the elders smoothed matters over with courtesy.
Then came the second round, and the ladies left with the children, all but lady Na, the first lady of Hnes, whose opinion was of equal weight with that of the elder men.
“Kta,” began the lord of Hnes cautiously, “how long are you out from Nephane?”
“Nigh to fifteen days.”
“Then,” said the old man, “you were there to be part of the sad tale which has reached us.”
“Elas no longer exists in Nephane, my lord, and I am exiled. My parents and the chan are dead.”
“You are in the house of friends,” said Gan t’Hnes. “Ai, that I should have lived to see such a day. I loved your father as my great friend, Kta, and I love you as if you were one of my own. Name the ones to blame for this.”
“The names are too high to curse, my lord.”
“No one is beyond the reach of heaven.”
“I would not have all Nephane cursed for my sake. The ones responsible are the Methi Djan and her Sufaki lover Shan t’Tefur u Tlekef. I have sworn undying enmity between Elas and the Chosen of Heaven, and a bloodfeud between Elas and the house of Tefur, but I chose exile. If I had intended war, I could have raised war that night in the streets of Nephane. So might my father, and chose to die rather than that. I honor his self-restraint.”
Gan bowed his head in thoughtful sorrow. “A ship came two days ago,” he said. “Dkelis of Irain in Nephane. Her word was from the Chosen of Heaven herself, that Elas had offended against her and had chosen to remove itself from her sight; that the true author of the offense was-forgive me, my guests-a human who did murder against citizens of Nephane while under the guardianship of Elas.”
“I killed some of t’Tefur’s men,” said Kurt, sick at heart. He looked at Kta. “Was that it? Was that what caused it?”