"That's all we can ask," Eiah said.
Maati thought he heard Small Kae mutter, I could ask more than that, but
he was too busy pulling the plank into position to respond. It was a
tricky business, guiding all three women into the boat, but Maati and
the second managed it, soaking only Small Kae's hem. Maati, when at last
he pulled himself onto the boat, was cold water and black mud from waist
to boots. He made his miserable way to the stern, sitting as near the
kiln as the boatman would allow. Eiah called out for him, following the
sound of his voice until she sat at his side. The boatman and his second
wouldn't speak to either of them or meet Maati's eyes. The second walked
to the bow, manipulated something Maati couldn't make out, and called
out. The boatman replied, and the boat shifted, its wheel clattering and
pounding. They lurched out into the stream.
They were leaving Vanjit behind. The only poet in the world, her andat
on her hip, alone in the forest with autumn upon them. What would she
do? How would she live, and if she despaired, what vengeance would she
exact upon the world? Maati looked at the dancing flames within the kiln.
"South would be faster," Maati said. The boatman glanced at him,
shrugged, and sang out something Maati couldn't make out. The second
called back, and the boatman turned the rudder. The sound of the paddle
wheel deepened, and the boat lurched.
"Uncle?" Eiah asked.
"It's all fallen apart," Maati said. "We can't manage this from here.
Tracking her through half the wilds south of Utani? We need men. We need
help."
"Help," Eiah said, as if he'd suggested pulling down the stars. Maati
tried to speak, but something equally sorrow and rage closed his throat.
He muttered an obscenity and then forced the words free.
"We need Otah-kvo," Maati said.
25
"Will you go back?" Ana asked. "When this is over, I mean."
"It depends on what you mean by over," Idaan said. "You mean once my
brother talks the poets into bringing back all the dead in Galt and
Chaburi-Tan, rebuilding the city, killing the pirates, and then
releasing the andat and drowning all their books? Because if that's what
overlooks like, you're waiting for yesterday."
Otah shifted, pretending he was still asleep. The sun of late morning
warmed his face and robes, the low chuckle of the river against the
sides of the boat and the low, steady surge of the paddle wheel became a
kind of music. It had been easy enough to drowse, but his body ached and
pinched and complained despite three layers of tapestry between his back
and the deck. If he rose, there would be conversations and planning and
decisions. As long as he could maintain the fiction of unconsciousness,
he could allow himself to drift. It passed poorly for comfort, but it
passed.
"You can't think we'll be chasing these people for the rest of our
lives, though," Ana said.
"I'm hoping we live longer than that, yes," Idaan said. "So. If this
ends in a way that lets me return to him, then I will. I enjoy Cehmai's
company.
"And he'll take you back in, even after you've been gone this long?"
Otah could hear the smile in Idaan's voice when she replied.
"He's overlooked worse from me. Why do you ask?"
"I don't know," Ana said. And then a moment later, "Because I'm trying
to imagine it. What the world will be. I've never traveled outside Galt
before, except one negotiation in Eymond. I keep thinking of going back
to it. Acton. Kirinton. But it's not there anymore."
"Not the way it was," Idaan agreed. "We can't be sure how bad it is, but
I'll swear it isn't good."
The silence was only a lack of voices. The river, the birds, the wind
all went on with their long, inhuman conversation. It wasn't truly
silence, it only felt that way.
"I think about what I would do without all of you," Ana said. "And then
I imagine ... What would you do if a city caught fire and no one could
see it? How would you put it out?"
"You wouldn't," Idaan said. Her voice was cool and matter-of-fact.
"I think about that," Ana said. "I think about it more now. The future,
the things that can go wrong. Dangers. I wonder if that always happens
when-"
Idaan had made a clicking sound, tongue against teeth.
"You're not fooling anyone, brother," Idaan said. "We all know you're
awake."
Otah rolled onto his back, his eyes still closed, and took a pose of
abject denial. Idaan chuckled. He opened his eyes to the great pale blue
dome of the sky, the sun burning white overhead and searing his eyes. He
sat up slowly, his back as bruised as if someone had beaten him.
Ashti Beg lay a few yards off, her arm curved under her to cradle her
sleeping head. Two armsmen sat at either side of their boat with pairs
at the stern and the bow, keeping watch on the changeless river. Danat
had joined the watchers at the bow and seemed to be having a
conversation with them. It was good to see it. Otah had been concerned
after his disappearance at the wayhouse that Danat and the captain of
the guard might have found themselves on bad terms. Danat seemed to be
making it his work to see that didn't happen.
The boat itself was smaller than Otah would have chosen, but the kilns
at the back were solid, the wheel new, and the alternatives had been
few. When there are only three boats on the riverfront, even being
emperor won't create a fourth. Ana and Idaan were sitting side by side
on a shin-high bench, their hands clasped.
It was something Otah had noticed before, the tendency of Ana and Ashti
Beg to touch people. As if the loss of their eyes had left them hungry
for something, and this lacing of fingers was the nearest they could come.
"You both look lovely," Otah said.
"Your hair looks like mice have been building a nest in it," Idaan said.
Otah confirmed her assessment with his fingertips. The fact of the
matter was that none of them was presentable. Too many weeks on the road
bathing with rags and tepid water had left them looking disrep utable.
Somewhere just east of Pathai, they had been joined by a colony of lice
that still took up their evenings. Otah imagined walking into the
palaces at Utani as he now was and smiled.
He walked to the edge of the boat where a bucket and rope stood ready
for moments like this. With the armsmen looking on, he lowered the line
himself and hauled up the water. When he knelt and poured it over his
head, it was as if he could feel ice forming in his mind. He whooped and
shuddered, pulling his hair back. Idaan, behind him, was laughing. He
made his way back to them, Ana holding out a length of cloth for him to
take and dry himself.