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.