the price was higher than he could have imagined.
Murder. He was planning to murder one of his own.
As he had expected, the boat was too small for any more private
conversations. He had managed no more than a few moments with Eiah when
none of the others were paying them attention. Something in Vanjit's
wine, perhaps, to slow her mind and deepen her sleep. She mustn't know
that the blow was coming.
He could see that it weighed on Eiah as much as it did upon him. She sat
carving soft wood with a knife wherever Vanjit was not, her mouth in a
vicious scowl. The wax tablets that had been her whole work before he'd
come to her lay stacked in a crate. The latest version of Wounded,
waiting for his analysis and approval. He imagined the two of them would
sit nearer each other if it weren't for the fear that Vanjit would
suspect them of plotting. And he would not fear that except that it was
truth.
For their own part, Vanjit and Clarity-of-Sight held to themselves. Poet
and andat in apparent harmony, watching the night sky or penetrating the
secrets of wood and water that only she could see. Vanjit hadn't offered
to share the wonders the andat revealed since before they had left the
school, and Maati couldn't bring himself to ask the favor. Not knowing
what he knew. Not intending what he intended.
When evening came, the boatman sang out, his second joining the high
whooping call. There was no reason for it that Maati could see, only the
habit of years. The boat angled its way to a low, muddy bank. When the
water was still enough, the second dropped over the side and slogged to
the line of trees, a rope thick as his arm trailing behind him. Once the
rope had been made fast to the trees, he called out again, and the
boatman shifted the mechanism of the boiler from paddle wheel to winch,
and the great rope went taut. It creaked with the straining, and river
water flowed from the strands as if giant hands were wringing it. By the
time the boatman stopped, the craft was almost jumping distance from the
shore and felt as solid as a building. It made Maati uncomfortable,
afraid that they had grounded it so well that they wouldn't be able to
free it in the morning. The boatman and his second showed no unease.
A wide plank made a bridge between boat and shore. The boatman wrestled
it into place with a stream of perfunctory vulgarity. The second, his
robes soaked and muddied, trotted back onto the deck.
"We're doing well, eh?" Maati said to the boatman. "The distance we went
today must have been four days' ride."
"We'll do well enough," the boatman agreed. "Have you in Utani before
the last leaf drops, that's certain."
Large Kae went across to the shore, two tents on her wide back. Eiah was
just behind her with a crate of food to make the evening meal. The
twilight sky was gray streaked with gold, and the calls of birds gave
some hint to where the boatman's songs had found their start. On another
night, it would have been beautiful.
"How many days do you think that would be?" Maati asked, trying to keep
his tone light and friendly. From the boatman's perfunctory smile, it
wasn't an unfamiliar question.