"They're beautiful," he said, nodding at the cranes.
"I suppose," Eiah said.
"Vanjit? The others?"
"In their rooms," Eiah said, a trace of satisfaction in her voice.
"Three rooms, and all of them private. Meals this evening and before we
go. One length of silver and two copper."
"You could have paid them the normal price," NIaati said.
"My pride won't allow it," Eiah said. She stepped forward and knelt.
"There was something. If you're not tired."
"I'm an old man. I'm always tired."
Her eyes held some objection, but she didn't give it voice. Instead she
unbuckled her satchel, rooted in it for a moment, and drew out a paper.
Maati took it, frowning. The characters were familiar, a part of Eiah's
proposed binding, but the structure of them was different. Awkward.
"It isn't perfect," Eiah said. "But I thought we could consider it. I've
mentioned the idea to Large Kae, and she has some ideas about how to
make it consonant with the grammar."
Maati lifted his hand, palm out, and stopped the flow of words. The
cranes called, their harsh voices crossing the water swifter than
arrows. He sounded out each phrase, thinking through the logic as he did.
"I don't understand," he said. "This is the strongest part of the
binding. Why would you change..."
And then he saw her intentions. Each change she had made broadened the
concept of wounds. Of harm. Of damage. And there, in the corner of the
page, was a play on the definitions of blood. He folded the page,
slipping it into his sleeve.
"No," he said.
"I think it can-"
"No," Maati said again. "What we're doing is hard enough. Making it fit
the things that Sterile has done is enough. If you try to make
everything fit into it, you'll end with more than you can hold."
Eiah sighed and looked out across the water. The wind plucked a lock of
hair, the black threads dancing on her cheek. He could see in her
expression that she'd anticipated all he would say. And more, that she
agreed. He put a hand on her shoulder. For a moment, neither spoke.
"Once we reach the river, things will move faster," Eiah said. "With the
Galts' paddle boats, we should reach Utani before the worst cold comes."
To their left, a fish leaped from the water and splashed back down.
"Once I have you someplace with real physicians, I'm going to try the
binding."
Maati drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. A sick dread uncurled
in his belly.
"You're sure?" he said.
Eiah took a pose that confirmed her resolve and also chided him. When he
replied with one that expressed mild affront, she spoke.
"You sit here like something from a philosopher's daydream, refusing to
let me even try to mend your heart," she said, "and then you start
quaking like an old woman when I'm the one at risk."
"'Quaking like an old woman'?" Maati said. "I think we haven't known the