world broadened when he was traveling, and also the ways in which it
narrowed when he was traveling with company. Living in the same walls,
the same gardens, and surrounded as he had been by only a few deeply
familiar faces had begun to grate on him before they left, but there had
still been a way to find a moment to steal away. On the road, all of
them together, the chances for private conversation were few and precious.
Since the andat had spoken, he hadn't found himself alone with Eiah, or
at least not so clearly so that he would risk speaking. He didn't want
either of the Kaes or Irit to know what had happened. He was afraid that
they would say something where Vanjit could hear them. He was afraid
that Vanjit would find out what the andat had said and take some
terrible action in her fear and in her own defense.
He was afraid because he was afraid, and he was half-certain that Vanjit
knew he was.
They reached the lands surrounding the river sooner than he would have
wanted; if the long days and nights on the road had kept him in close
quarters with the others, the days ahead sharing a boat would be worse.
He had to find a way to talk with Eiah before that, and the prospect of
his lessening time made him anxious.
Cold and snow hadn't reached the river valley yet. It was as if their
journey were moving backward in time. The leaves here clung to the
trees, some of them with the gold and red and yellow still struggling to
push out the last hints of green. As they approached the water, farms
and low towns clustered closer and closer. The roads and paths began to
cling to irrigation channels, and other travelers-most merely local, but
some from the great cities-appeared more and more often. Maati sat at
the front of the cart, his robes wrapped close around him, staring ahead
and trying not to put himself anywhere that the andat could catch his eye.
He was, in fact, so preoccupied with the politics and dangers within his
small party that he didn't see the Galts until his horses were almost
upon them.
Three men, none of them older than thirty summers, sat at the side of
the road. They wore filthy robes that had once been red or orange. The
tallest had a leather satchel over his shoulder. They had stepped a few
feet off the path at the sound of hooves, and the tall grass made them
seem like apparitions from a children's epic. Their eyes were blue, the
pupils gray. None of them had shaved in recent memory. Their gaunt faces
turned to the road from habit. There was no expression in them, not even
hunger. Maati didn't realize he had slowed the horses until he heard
Eiah call out from the cart's bed behind him. At her word, he stopped.
Large Kae and Irit, taking their turns on horseback, reined in. Vanjit
and Small Kae moved to the side of the cart. Maati risked a glance at
Clarity-of-Sight, but it was still and silent.
"Who are you?" Eiah demanded in their language. "What are your names?"
The Galtic apparitions shifted, blinking their empty eyes in confusion.
The tall one with the satchel recovered first.
"I'm Jase Hanin," he said, speaking too loudly. "These are my brothers.
It isn't plague. Whatever took our eyes, miss, it wasn't plague. We
aren't a danger."
Eiah muttered something that Maati couldn't make out, then shifted a
crate in the back. When he turned to look, she had her physician's
satchel on her hip and was preparing to drop down to the road. Vanjit,
seeing this as well, grabbed Eiah's sleeve.
"Don't," Vanjit said. The word was as much command as plea.
"I'll be fine," Eiah said. Vanjit's grip tightened on the cloth, and
Maati saw their eyes lock.
"Vanjit-cha," Maati said. "It's all right. Let her go."
The poet looked back at him, anger in her gaze, but she did as he'd
said. Eiah slipped down to the ground and walked toward the surprised Galts.
"You're a long way from anyplace," Eiah said.
"We were out in the low towns," the tall one said. "Something happened.
We've been trying to get back to Saraykeht. Our mother's there, you see.
Only it seems like we're put on the wrong path or stolen from as often
as we're helped."
He tried what had once been a winning smile. Maati tied the reins to the
cart and lowered himself to the road as well.
"Your mother?" Eiah said.
"Yes, miss," the Galt said.
"Well," she said, her voice cool. "At least you weren't a band of those
charming liars out selling the promise of women in the low towns. What's
in the satchel?"
The Galt looked chagrined and desperate, but he didn't lie.
"Names of men, miss. The ones who wanted wives from Galt."
"I thought as much," Eiah said.
"Don't help them," Vanjit said. She'd climbed to the front of the cart,
but hadn't taken up the reins. From the way she held her body, Maati
guessed it was a matter of time before she did. He saw the andat's black
eyes peering over the cart at him and looked away. Eiah might as well
not have heard her.
"We were going to do the right thing with them, miss," the tall man
said. "There's a man in Acton putting together women who want to come
over. We had an arrangement with him. All the money's been taken, but we
still have the lists. God's word, we're going to keep our end of the
thing, if we can just get back to Saraykeht."
"You stole from them," Eiah said, pulling a leather waterskin from her
satchel. "They stole back from you. Seems to me that leaves you even.
Here, drink from this. It's not only water, so don't take more than a
couple of swallows, any of you."
"Eiah-kya," Irit said. Her voice was high and anxious, but she didn't
say more than the name. Large Kae's mount whickered and sidestepped,
sensing something uneasing in its rider's posture. Eiah might as easily
have been alone.
"These ... put out your hand. These are lengths of silver. I've put a
notch in each of them, so you'll know if someone's trying to switch
them. It's enough to pay for a passage to Saraykeht. The road you're
following now, it will be about another day's walk to the river. Maybe
longer. Call it two."
"Thank you, miss," one of the other two said.
"I don't suppose we could ride on the back of your cart?" the tall man
said, hope in his smile.
"No," Maati said. There was a limit to what Vanjit would allow, and he
wasn't ready for that confrontation. "We've spent too long at this. Eiah."
Without a word, without meeting his gaze, Eiah turned back, climbed into
the cart, and went back to the wax writing tablets she'd spent her
morning over. Maati climbed back up into the cart and started them back
down the road, Vanjit at his side.
"She shouldn't have done that," Vanjit murmured. Soft as the words were,
he knew Eiah would hear them.