hanging open. Eiah's expression was calm and commanding at the same
time, like a mother calling back her children from a cliff edge.
"It's done, Ashti-cha," Eiah said, walking slowly toward the woman.
"I'll have the knife."
"Not until I find that bitch and put it in her heart," Ashti Beg spat,
turning toward Eiah's voice. Maati saw for the first time that the
woman's eyes were as gray as storm clouds.
"I'll have the knife," Eiah said again. "Or I will beat you down and
take it. You know you're more likely to hurt the others than Vanjit."
The andat whimpered and Ashti Beg whirled toward it. Eiah stepped
forward smoothly, took Ashti Beg's elbow and wrist in her hands, and
twisted. Ashti Beg yelped, the blade clattering to the floor.
"What. . ." Maati gasped. "What is happening?"
Four voices answered at once, words tripping over each other. Only Eiah
and Vanjit remained silent, the two poets considering each other
silently in the center of the storm. Maati raised his hands in a pose
that commanded silence, and all of them stopped except Ashti Beg.
". . . power over us. It isn't right, it isn't fair, and I will not
simper and smile and lick her ass because she happened to be the one to
go first!"
"Enough!" Maati said. "Enough, all of you. Gods. Gods. Vanjit. Come with
me."
The girl looked over as if noticing him for the first time. The rage in
her expression faltered. Her hands were shaking. Eiah stepped forward,
keeping herself between Ashti Beg and her prey as Vanjit walked across
the room.
"Eiah, see to Ashti-cha," Maati said, taking Vanjit's wrist. "The rest
of you, clean this mess. I'd rather not eat food prepared in a child's
playpen."
He turned away, pulling Vanjit and Clarity-of-Sight after him. The andat
was silent now. Maati crossed the hallway and started down a flight of
stone stairs that led to the sleeping rooms for the younger cohorts. The
voices of the others rose behind them and faded. He wasn't certain where
he was taking her until he reached the branching hall that led to the
slate-paved rooms where the teachers had once disciplined boys with the
cutting slash of a lacquered rod. He stopped in the hallway instead,
putting the reflexive impulse to violence aside. Vanjit bowed her head.
"I would like an explanation of that," he said, his voice shaking with
anger.
"It was Ashti Beg," Vanjit said. "She can't contain her jealousy any
longer, Maati-kvo. I have tried to give her the time and consideration,
but she won't understand. I am a poet now. I have an andat to care for.
I can't be expected to work and toil like a servant."
The andat twisted in her grasp, looking up at Maati with tears in its
black eyes. The tiny, toothless mouth gaped in what would have been
distress if it had been a baby.
"Tell me," Maati said. "Tell me what happened."
"Ashti Beg said that I had to clean the pots from breakfast. Irit
offered to, but Ashti wouldn't even let her finish her sentences. I