"Is all well?" Large Kae called from the fire. In the cart, someone
moaned and stirred.
"Fine," Maati said. "We're fine. Only adjusting something." Then,
quietly, "I doubt it changes anything. Vanjit's more likely to side with
Clarity-of-Sight than with us. If it is scheming against her-and,
really, I can't see why it wouldn't be-it's better placed to get what it
wants. It is her. It knows what she needs and what she fears."
"You think she wants to die?" Eiah asked.
"I think she wants to stop hurting. Binding the andat was supposed to
stop the pain. Having a babe was supposed to. Revenge on the Galts. Now
here she is with everything she wanted, and she still hurts."
Maati shrugged. Eiah took a pose of agreement and of sorrow.
"If she weren't a poet, I'd pity her," Eiah said. "But she is, and so
she frightens me."
"Maati-kya?" Vanjit's voice came from the darkness over Eiah's shoulder.
It was high and anxious. "What's the matter with Maati-kvo?"
"Nothing," Eiah said, turning back. Vanjit was sitting up, her hair
wild, her eyes wide. The andat was clutched to her breast. Eiah took a
reassuring pose. "Everything's fine."
Poet and andat looked at Maati with expressions of distrust so alike
they were eerie.
THE RIVER QIIT HAD ITS SOURCE FAR NORTH OF UTANI. RAINS FROM THE
mountain ranges that divided the cities of the Khaiem from the Westlands
flowed east into the wide flats, gathered together, and carved their way
south. Utani, the ruins of Udun, and then far to the south, the wide,
silted delta just east of Saraykeht.
At its widest, the river was nearly half a mile across, but that was
farther south. Here, at the low town squatting on the riverfront, the
water was less than half that, its surface smooth and shining as silver.
Eight thin streets crossed one another at unpredictable angles. Dogs and
chickens negotiated their peace in bark and squawk, tooth and beak as
Maati drove past. Two wayhouses offered rest. Another teahouse was
painted in characters that made it clear there were no beds for hire
there, and grudgingly offered fresh noodles and old wine. The air
smelled rich with decay and new growth, the cold water and the dust of
the road. There should have been children in the streets, calling,
begging, playing games both innocent and cruel.
Maati drew the cart to a halt in the yard of the wayhouse nearest the
riverfront itself. Large Kae dismounted and went in to negotiate for a
room. After the incident with the andat, the agreement was that someone
would always be in a private room with the shutters closed and the door
bolted, watching the andat. If all went as he intended it, they would be
on the river well before nightfall, but still ...
Vanjit's scowl had deepened through the day. Twice more they had passed
men and women with pale skin and blind eyes. Two were begging at the
side of the road, another was being led on the end of a rope by an old
woman. Eiah had not insisted on stopping to offer them aid. Happily,
there were no Galtic faces at the wayhouse. Vanjit paused in the main
room, her hand on Maati's shoulder. The andat was in her other arm,