In the morning, he had the Master of Tides clear his schedule. He met
with Balasar and Sinja first. The meeting room was blond stone, ornately
carved. Otah had heard that the carvings illustrated some ancient epic,
but he'd never bothered to consider it. They were only figures in stone,
unmoving and incapable of change. Unlike the men.
Balasar and Sinja sat across from each other, their spines straight and
their expressions polite. They were divided by blood and broken faith.
Otah poured the tea himself.
"I am placing you in joint control of the fleets and what armsmen we
have," Otah said. "Between the two of you, you will protect Chaburi-Tan
from the raiders and bring the mercenary forces into compliance with
their contracts. I've written an edict that officially grants you my
unrestricted permissions."
"Most High," Balasar said. His voice was careful and precise. "Forgive
me, but is this wise? I am not one of your countrymen."
"Of course you are," Otah said. "Once Danat and Ana marry, we will be a
united empire. Are you refusing the command?"
Sinja replied in the general's place.
"We're an odd pairing, Most High," he said. "It might be better if-"
"You've been my right hand for decades. You know our resources and our
strengths. You're known and you're trusted," Otah said. "Balasar- cha's
the best commander in Galt. You're both grown men."
"What exactly do you want from us?" Balasar asked.
"I want you to take this problem from me and fix it," Otah said. "I'm
only one man, and I'm tired and overcommitted. Besides which, I'm a
third-rate war leader, as I think we are all aware."
Sinja coughed to cover laughter. Balasar leaned forward, stroking his
chin and looking down as if he'd discovered something fascinating in the
grain of the table before him. Slowly, he nodded. After that, it was
only a matter of working out the wording of the edict to the
satisfaction of Sinja and Balasar both.
There would be trouble between them. That couldn't be avoided. But, Otah
told himself, that was theirs to work. Not his. Not his any longer. He
left the meeting room feeling oddly giddy.
He had scheduled a similar meeting with Danat and Issandra Dasin
concerning the politics of the court and the intermarriage of Galt and
the Khaiem. And then he thought Ashua Radaani was the man to address the
issues of the conspiracy between Yalakeht and Obar State. He wasn't
certain of that yet. Panjit Dun might also do well with it.
And once all that was done, all the best minds he could choose given
their autonomy, he would closet himself with his sister and begin the
work that couldn't be safely trusted to others: tracking Maati and
whatever enemy among the courts of the utkhaiem had been supporting him.
10
Dawn crept over the school. The dark walls gained detail; the fragile
lacing of frost burned away almost before it was visible. Birdsong that
had begun in darkness grew in volume and complexity. The countless stars
faded into the pale blue and rose of the east. Maati Vaupathai walked
the perimeter of the school, his memory jogged with every new corner he
turned. Here was the classroom where he'd first heard of the andat.
There, the walkway where an older boy had beaten him for not taking the
proper stance. The stables, empty now but for the few animals Eiah had
brought, which Maati had made the younger boys clean with their bare
hands after he had been elevated to the black robes of the older boys.
Ever since his return, Maati had suffered moments when his mind would
spiral back through time, unearthing memories as fresh as yesterday.
This morning in particular, the past seemed present. He walked past the
long-dead echoes of boys crying in their cots, the vanished scent of the
caustic soap they'd used to wash the stone floors, the almostforgotten
smell of young bodies and old food and misery. And then, just as memory
threatened to sweep him away, he heard one of the girls. Large Kae
singing, Irit's laughter, anything. The walls themselves shifted. The
school became something new again, never seen in the world. Women poets,
working together as the risen sun washed the haze from the air.
When he stepped into the kitchen, the warmth of the fire and the damp of
the steam made him feel like he was walking into summer. Eiah and Ashti
Beg sat at the wide table, carving apples into slivers. An iron pot of
rough-ground wheat, rice, and millet burped to itself over the fire. The
gruel was soft and rich with buttercream and honey.
"Maati-kvo!" Small Kae called, and he took a pose of welcome that the
others matched. "There's fresh tea in the green pot. And that bowl there
is clean. The blue one."
"Eiah was just telling us about the news from Pathai," Ashti Beg said.
"Little that there was of it," Eiah said. "Nothing to compare with what
you were all doing here."
"Nothing we did while you were away is going to compare with what we'll
do next," Small Kae said. Her face was bright, her smile taut. She
covered her fear with an unwillingness to conceive of defeat. Maati
poured himself the tea. It smelled like fresh-picked leaves.
"Have we seen Vanjit?" he asked and lowered himself to a cushion beside
the fire. He grunted only a little bit.
"Not yet," Eiah said. "Large Kae went to wake her."
"Perhaps it would be better to let her sleep," Small Kae said. "It is
her day, after all. It seems rude to make demands on her just because we
all want to share it with her."
Eiah smiled, but her gaze was on Maati. A private conversation passed
between them, no longer than three heartbeats together. More would be
decided today than Vanjit and Clarity-of-Sight. Likely they all knew as
much, but no one would say the words. Maati filled a fresh bowl with the
sweet grain, holding it out for Ashti Beg to cover with apple. He didn't
answer Eiah's unspoken question: What will we do if she fails?
Vanjit arrived before he had finished half the bowl. She wore a robe of
deep blue shot with red, and her hair was woven with glass beads and
carved shells. Her face was painted, her lips widened and red, her eyes
touched by kohl. Maati hadn't even known she'd brought paints and
baubles to the school. She had never worn them before, but this morning,
she looked like the daughter of a Khai. When no one was looking, he took
a pose of congratulation to Eiah. She replied with an inclination of the
head and a tiny smile that admitted the change was her doing.
"How did you sleep, Vanjit-cha?" Maati asked as she swept the hem of her
robe aside and sat next to him.
She took his hand and squeezed it, but didn't answer his question. Large
Kae brought her a bowl of tea, Irit a helping of the grain and butter
already covered with apple. Vanjit took a pose of thanks somewhat
hampered by the food and drink.