"Everything I wanted to do has already been destroyed," Otah said.
"There isn't a solution to this. Not anymore. I'm reduced to looking for
the least painful way that it can end. I don't see how we take these
pieces and make a world worth living in."
Danat was silent and still, then took Otah's hand.
"I can," Danat said. "There's hope. There's still hope."
"This poet? Everything Ashti Beg says paints her as angry and petty and
cruel at heart. She hates the Galts and thinks little enough of me.
That's the woman we would be trying to reason with. And if she chooses,
there is more than Galt to lose."
Danat took a pose that accepted the stakes like a man at a betting
table. He would put the world and everything in it at risk for the
chance that remained to save Ana's home. Otah hesitated, and then
replied with a pose that stood witness to the decision. A feeling of
pride warmed him.
Kiyan-kya, he thought, we have raised a good man. Please all the gods
that we've also raised a wise one.
"I'll go tell the others," Danat said.
He rose and walked for the door, pausing only when Otah called after
him. Danat, at the doorway, looked back.
"It's the right choice," Otah said. "No matter how poorly this happens,
you made the right choice."
"There wasn't an option," Danat said.
It had been clear enough that no matter what the next step was, it
wouldn't involve staying at the school. Under Idaan's direction, the
armsmen were already refilling the water and coal stores for the
steamcarts, packing what little equipment they had used, and preparing
themselves for the road. The sky was white where it wasn't gray, the
snow blurring the horizon. Ashti Beg sat alone beside the great bronze
doors that had once opened only for the Dai-kvo. They were stained with
verdigris and stood ajar. No one besides Otah saw the significance of it.
Midmorning saw a thinning of the clouds, a weak, pale blue forcing its
way through the very top of the sky's dome. The horses were in harness,
the carts showing their billows of mixed smoke and steam, and everything
was at the ready except Idaan and Ana. The armsmen waited, ready to
leave. Otah and Danat went back.
Otah found the pair in a large room. Ana, sitting on an ancient bench,
had bent forward. Tears streaked the girl's cheeks, her hair was a wild
tangle, and her hands clasped until the fingertips were red and the
knuckles white. Idaan stood beside her, arms crossed and eyes as bleak
as murder. Before Otah could announce himself, Idaan saw him. His sister
leaned close to the Galtic girl, murmured something, listened to the
soft reply, and then marched to the doorway and Otah's side.
"Is there ... is something the matter?" Otah asked.
"Of course there is. How long have you been traveling with that girl?"
"Since Saraykeht," Otah said.
"Have you noticed yet that she isn't a man?" Idaan's voice was sharp as
knives. "Tell the armsmen to stand down. Then bring me a bowl of snow."
"What's the matter?" Otah demanded. And then, "Is it her time of the