Eiah's command in the courtyard. They were raking the fallen leaves into
a pit for burning and resetting a half-dozen flagstones that had broken
from years of frost, tree roots, and neglect. Vanjit knelt with Large
Kae, lifting the stones from the ground. Clarity-of-Sight nestled in
Irit's lap, its eyes closed and its mouth a perfect O. Ashti Beg, her
vision clearly restored, was by Small Kae's side, a deep pile of russet
leaves before them.
"Maati-kvo," Eiah said, taking a pose of greeting, which he returned.
The others acknowledged him with a smile or simple pose. Vanjit turned
away quickly, as if afraid to see anger still in his expression.
He trundled to a rough boulder, resting against it to catch his breath.
Irit joined him and, without a word, passed the andat to him. It
stirred, groaned once, and then turned to nestle its face into his
robes. The andat had no need of breath. Maati had known that since he
had first met Seedless over half a century earlier. Clarity-of-Sight's
deep, regular sighs were manipulations, but Maati welcomed them. To hold
something so much like a child but as still as the dead would have
unnerved him.
Irit especially talked in light tones, but no one seeing them would have
guessed that one of the group had been swinging a knife at another
earlier in the day. Apart from a mutually respected distance between
Ashti Beg and Vanjit, there was no sign of unease.
Large Kae and Small Kae left to prepare a simple meal just as Eiah put
the torch to the pit of leaves. The flames rose, dancing. Pale smoke
filled the air with the scent of autumn, then floated into the sky while
the rest of them watched: Vanjit and Eiah, Ashti Beg, Irit, Maati and
Clarityof-Sight, who was also Blindness. The andat seemed captivated by
the flames. Maati stretched his palm out to the fire and felt the heat
pushing gently back.
They ate roasted chicken and drank watered wine. By the end of the meal,
Vanjit was smiling again. When the last wine bowl was empty, the last
thin, blood-darkened bone set bare on its plate, she was the first to
rise and gather the washing. Maati felt a relief that surprised him. The
trouble had passed; whether it had been Vanjit's pride or Ashti Beg's
jealousy, it didn't matter.
To show his approval, Maati joined in the cleaning himself, sweeping the
kitchen and building up the fire. In place of the usual lecture, they
discussed the difficulties of looking too long at a binding. It came out
that all of them had felt some disquiet at the state of Eiah's work.
Even that was reassuring.
He and Eiah sat together after the session ended. A small kettle smelled
equally of hot iron and fresh tea. The wind was picking up outside, cold
and fragrant with the threat of rain or snow. By the warm light of the
fire grate, Eiah looked tired.
"I'll leave in the morning," Eiah said. "I want to beat the worst of the
weather, if I can."
"That seems wise," Maati said and sipped his tea. It was still scalding
hot, but its taste was comforting.
"Ashti Beg wants to come with me," she said. "I don't know what to do
about that."
He put down his bowl.
"What are you thinking?" he asked.
"That she might leave. After today, I'm afraid she's been soured on the
work."
Maati snorted and waved the concern away.
"She'll move past it," Maati said. "It's finished. Vanjit overstepped,
and she's seen it. I don't think Ashti's so petty as to hold things past
that."
"Perhaps," Eiah said. "You think I should take her with me, then?"
"Certainly. There's no reason not to, and it will give you another pair
of hands on the road. And besides, we're a school, not a prison. If she
truly wants to leave, she should be able to."
"Even now?" Eiah asked.
"What option do we have?" Maati asked. "Chain her to a tree? Kill her?
No, Eiah-kya. Ashti Beg won't abandon the work, but if she does, we have
no choice but to let her."
Eiah was silent for five slow breaths together. When she looked up, he
was surprised by her grim expression.
"I still can't quite bring myself to believe Vanjit did that."
"Why not?"
Eiah frowned, her hands clasped together. Some distant shutter's ties
had slipped; wood clapping against stone. A soft wind pushed at the
windows and unsettled the fire in the grate.
"She's a poet," Eiah said. "She's the poet."
"Poets are human," Maati said. "We err. We can be petty on occasion.
Vindictive. Small. Her world has been turned on its head, and she hasn't
come yet to understand all that means. Well, of course she hasn't. I'd
have been more surprised if she'd never made a misstep."
"You don't think we have a problem then?" Eiah said.
"She's a reasonable girl. Given power, she's misbehaved once. Once."
Maati shook his head. "Once is as good as never."
"And if it becomes twice?" Eiah asked. "If it becomes every time?"
"It won't," Maati said. "That isn't who she is."
"But she's changed. You said it just now. The binding gave her power,
and power changes people."
"It changes their situation," Maati said. "It changes the calculations
of what things they choose to do. What they forbear. It doesn't change
their souls."
"I've cut through a hundred bodies, Uncle. I've never weighed out a
soul. I've never judged one. When I picked Vanjit, I hope I did the
right thing."
"Don't kill yourself with worry," Maati said. "Not yet, at any rate."
Eiah nodded slowly. "I've been thinking about who to send letters to.
I've picked half-a-dozen names. I'll hire a courier when we reach
Pathai. I won't be there long enough to bring back replies."
"That's fine," Maati said. "All we need is enough time to perfect Wounded."
Eiah took a pose that agreed and also ended the conversation. She walked
away into the darkened hall, her shoulders bent, her head bowed. Maati
felt a pang of guilt. Eiah was tired and sorrowful and more fearful than
she let on. He was sending her to announce to the world that she had
betrayed her father. He could have been gentler about her concerns over
Vanjit and Clarity-of-Sight. He didn't know why he'd been so harsh.
He made his evening ablutions and prepared himself to write a few pages
in his book, scratching words onto paper by the light of the fluttering
night candle, thanks in no small part to Vanjit. He was less than
surprised when a soft scratching came at his door.
Vanjit looked small and young. The andat held in the crook of her arm
looked around the dim room, gurgling to itself almost like a baby. Maati
gestured for her to sit.