three decades ago, and pushing down his own fears both exhausted him and
made him tense. He felt like a Galtic boiler with too hot a fire and no
release; he could feel the solder melting at his seams.
If they had followed his plan, Danat and Maati would have returned to
the quay from a path that ran south along the river. They came from the
west, down the broad stone steps. Danat held a naked blade forgotten in
his hand, his expression set and unnerved. Maati, walking more slowly,
seemed on the verge of collapse, but also pleased. Otah put down his pen.
"You've found her?"
"She's found us," Maati said. "I think she's been watching us since we
stepped off the boat."
The armsmen clustered around them. Eiah and Ana rose to their feet,
touching each other for support. Maati lumbered into the center of the
quay as if it were a stage and he was declaiming a part. He told them of
the encounter, of Vanjit's appearance, of the andat at her side. He took
the poses he'd adopted and mimicked Vanjit's. In the end, he explained
that Vanjit would see him-would see only him-and that it was to happen
that evening.
"She doesn't know you," Maati continued, "and what little she does know,
she doesn't have a use for. To her, you're the man who turned against
his own people. And I am the teacher who gave her the power of a small god."
"And then plotted to kill her," Otah said, but he knew this battle was
lost. Maati was right: neither of them had the power here. The poet and
her andat were their masters whether he liked it or not. She could
dictate any terms she wished, and Maati was important to her in a way
that Otah himself was not.
It was a meeting with the potential to end the world or save it. He
would have given it to a stranger before he trusted it to Maati.
"What are you going to tell her?" Ana asked. Her voice sounded hungry.
Weeks-months now-Ana had been living in shadows, and here was the chance
to make herself whole.
"I'll apologize," Maati said. "I'll explain that the andat manipulated
us, playing on our fears. Then, if Vanjit will allow it, I'll have Eiah
brought so that she can offer her apologies as well."
Eiah, standing where Otah could see her face, lifted her chin as if
something had caught her attention. Something ghosted across her
facealarm or incredulity-and then was gone. She became a statue of
herself, a mask. She had no more faith in Maati than he did. And, to
judge from her silence, no better idea of what to do either.
"She has killed thousands of innocent people," Otah said. "She's
crippled women she had numbered among her friends. Are you sure that
apologizing is entirely appropriate?"
"What would you have me do?" Maati asked, his hands taking a pose that
was both query and challenge. "Should I go to her swinging accusations?
Should I tell her she's not safe and never will be?"
The voice that answered was Idaan's.
"There's nothing you can say to her. She's gone mad, and you talk about
her as if she weren't. Whatever words you use, she's going to hear what
she wants. You might just as well send her a puppet and let her speak
both parts."
"You don't know her," Maati said, his face flushing. "You've never met her."
"I've been her," Idaan said dismissively as she walked down the steps to
the now-crowded quay. "Give her what she wants if you'd like. It's never
made her well before, and it won't make her well now."
"What would you advise?" Otah asked.
"She'll be distracted," Idaan said. "Go in with a bowman. Put an arrow
in the back of her head just where the spine touches it."
"No," Maati shouted.
"No," Eiah said. "Even if killing her is the right thing, think of the
risk. If she suspects, she can always lash out, and we haven't got any
protection against her."
"There doesn't need to be anyone there for her to be suspicious," Idaan
said. "If she's frightened by shadows, the end is just as bloody."
"So we're giving up on Galt," Ana said. Her voice was flat. "I listen to
all of you, and the one thing I never hear mentioned is all the people
who've died because they happened to be like me."
Maati stepped forward, taking the girl's hand. Otah, watching her,
didn't believe she needed comfort. It wasn't pain or sorrow in her
expression. It was resolve.
"They don't think they can move her to mercy," Maati said. "I will do
everything I can, Ana-cha. I'll swear to anything you like that I will-"
"Take me with you," Ana said. "I'm no threat to her, and I can speak for
Galt. I'm the only one here who can do that."
Her orders were met by silence until Idaan made a sound that was equally
laughter and cough.
"She told me to come alone," Maati said. "If she sees me leading a blind
Galt to her-"
"Vanjit has the right to see her mistakes," Otah said. "She's done this.
She should look at it. We all should look at what we've done to come here."
Maati looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. There was a
deep confusion in the old poet's face. Otah took a pose that asked a
favor between equals. As a friend to a friend.
"Take Ana," Otah said.
Maati's jaw worked as if he were chewing possible replies.
"No," he said.
Otah took a pose that was at once a query and an opportunity for Maati
to recant. Maati shook his head.
"I have trusted you, Otah-kvo. Since we were boys, I have had to come to
you with everything, and when you weren't there, I tried to imagine what
you might have done. And this time, you are wrong. I know it."
"Maati-"
"Trust me," Maati hissed. "For once in your life trust me. Ana-cha must
not go."
Otah's mouth opened, but no words came forth. Maati stood before him,
his breath fast as a boy's who had just run a race or jumped from a high
cliff into the sea. Maati had defied Otah. He had betrayed him. He had
never in their long history refused him.
For a moment, Otah felt as if they were boys again. He saw in Maati the
balled fists and jutting chin of a small child standing against an older
one, the bone-deep fear mixed with a sudden, surprising pride in his own
unexpected courage. And in Otah's own breast, an answering sorrow and
even shame.
He took a pose that acknowledged Maati's decision. The poet hesitated,
nodded, and walked to the riverside. Idaan leaned close to Ana,
whispering all that had happened which the girl could not see.
Kiyan-kya-
Sunset isn't on us yet, but it will be soon. Maati is
sulking, I think. Everyones frightened, but none of us has
the courage to say it. I take that back. Idaan isn't afraid.