breath, wheezing like he'd run a race. His racing heart filled his ears
with the sound of rushing blood.
"It is," he said. "It's worth ..."
"Ah. There's Eymond. Everyone in Eymond, blind as a stone. And Eddensea.
There. Gone. Bakta. But why stop there, Maati-kya? Here, the birds. All
the birds in the world. There. The fish. The beasts." She laughed. "All
the flies are blind. I've just done that. All the flies and the spiders.
I say we give the world to the trees and the worms. One great nation of
the eyeless."
"Vanjit," Maati said. His back hurt like someone had stabbed him and
left the blade in. He fought to find the words. "You mustn't do this. I
didn't teach you this."
"I did what you told me," she said, her voice rising. The andat's cry
rose with her, an infantile rage and anguish and exultation at the
world's destruction. "I did what you wanted. More, Maati-kvo, I did what
you couldn't do yourself, and you hated me for it. You wanted me dead?
Fine, then. I'll die. And the world can come with me."
"No!" Maati cried.
"I'm not a monster," Vanjit said. Like a candle being snuffed, the
andat's wail ceased. Vanjit collapsed beside him, as limp as a puppet
with cut strings.
There were voices. Otah, Danat, Eiah, Idaan, Ana. And others. He lay
back, letting his eyes close. He didn't know what had happened. For the
moment, he didn't care. His body was a single, sudden wash of pain. And
then, his chest only ached. Maati opened his eyes. An unfamiliar face
was looking down at him.
The man had skin as pale as snow and flowing ink-black hair. His eyes
were deep brown, as soft as fur and as warm as tea. His robe was blue
silk embroidered with thread of gold. The pale man smiled and took a
pose of greeting. Maati responded reflexively. Vanjit lay on the floor,
her arm bent awkwardly behind her, her eyes open and empty.
"Killed her," Maati said. "You. Killed her."
"Well. More precisely, we wounded her profoundly and then she died," the
pale man said. "But I'll grant you it's a fine point. The effect is much
the same."
"Maati!"
He lifted his head. Eiah was rushing toward him, her robes pressed back
like a banner by her speed. Otah and Idaan followed her more slowly. Ana
and Danat were locked in a powerful embrace. Maati lifted his hand in
greeting. When she drew near, Eiah hesitated, her gaze on the fallen
girl. The pale man-Wounded-took a pose that offered congratulations, and
there was irony in the cant of his wrists. Eiah knelt, touching the
corpse with a calm, professional air.
"Oh, yes," the andat said, folding its hands. "Quite dead."
"Good," Eiah said.
"He isn't standing," Idaan said, nodding toward Maati.
Eiah's attention shifted to him and her face paled.
"Just need. To catch my breath."
"His heart's stopping," Eiah said. "I knew this would happen. I told you
to drink that tea."
Maati waved his hand, shooing her concerns away. Danat and Ana had come.
He hadn't noticed it. They were simply there. Ana's eyes were brown and
they were beautiful.
"Can't we ... can't we do something?" Danat asked.
"No," said the andat in the same breath that Eiah said, "Yes. I need my
satchel. Where is it?"
Danat rushed back to the great doors, returning half a moment later with
the physician's satchel in his hands. Eiah grabbed it, plucked out a
cloth bag, and started shuffling through sheaves of dried herbs that to
Maati looked identical.
"There's another bag. A yellow one," Eiah said. "Where is it?"
"I don't think we brought it," Danat said.
"Then it's back at the quay. Get it now."
Danat turned and sprinted. Gently, Eiah took Maati's hand. He thought at
first she meant to comfort him, but her fingers pressed into his wrist,
and then she reached for his other hand. He surrendered himself to her
care. He didn't have a great deal of choice. Idaan squatted at his side,
Otah sitting on the dais. The andat rose, stepping back by Ana's side as
if out of respect.
"How bad?" Idaan asked.
"He hasn't died. That's what I can offer for now," Eiah said. "Maati-
kya, open your mouth. I don't have time to brew this, but it will help
until I can get the rest of my supplies. It's going to be sweet first
and then bitter."
"You've done it," Maati said around the pinch of leaves she put on his
tongue.
Eiah looked at him, her expression startled. He smiled at her.
"You bound it. You've cured the blindness."
Eiah looked up at her creation, her slave. It nodded.
"Well, no," she said. "I mean, yes, I bound him. And I did undo Vanjit's
damage to Ana and myself. And then you, when I saw that she'd done it."
"Galt?" Ana asked.
"I hadn't ... I hadn't even thought of it. Gods. Is there anything
different to be done? I mean, a whole nation at once?"
"You have to do everything," Maati said. "Birds. Beasts. Fish. Everyone,
everywhere. You have to hurry. It's only a thought." The herbs were
making his mouth tingle and burn, but the pain in his breast seemed to
ebb. "It's no different."
Eiah turned to the andat. The kind, pale face hardened. No matter how it
seemed, the thing wasn't a man and it wasn't gentle. But it was bound to
her will, and a moment later Eiah caught her breath.
"It's done," she said, wonder in her voice. "They've been put back. The
ones who are left."
Ana stepped forward and knelt, wordlessly enfolding Eiah in her arms.
From where he lay, he could see Eiah's eyes close, watch her lean into
the embrace. The two women seemed to pause in time, a moment that lasted
less than two long breaths together but carried the weight of years
within it. Eiah raised her head sharply and the andat twitched. Idaan
leaped up, yelping. All eyes turned to her as she pressed a flat palm to
her belly.
"That," she said, "felt very odd. You should warn someone when you're
planning something like that."
"Sterile?" Otah asked. His voice was low. There was no joy in it.
"Repaired," Eiah said. "We can bear again. Galts can father children and
we can bear them."
"I don't suppose you could leave me as I was?" Idaan asked.
"So we've begun again," Otah said. "It is all as it was. We've only
changed a few names. Well-"
Wounded cut him off with a low bark of a laugh. Its eyes were fixed upon
Eiah. Otah looked from one to the other, his hands taking a querying
pose. Woman and slave both ignored him.
"Everyone?" the andat asked.
"Everyone, everywhere," Eiah said. "It's only a thought, isn't it?