to sit down for a while, perhaps drink a bowl of wine, perhaps speak to
Eiah for a time. He wanted to understand better why the dread in his
breast was mixed with elation, the fear with pleasure.
"What does she want?" Danat asked, trotting to catch up to Maati.
"I suppose that depends upon how you look at things," Maati said. "In
the greater scheme, she wants what any of us do. Love, a family,
respect. In the smaller, I believe she wants to see me beg before I die.
The odd thing is that even if she had that, it wouldn't bring her any
last„ ing peace.
"I don't understand."
Maati stopped. It occurred to him that if he had taken the wrong pose,
made the wrong decision just now, he and the boy would be trying to find
their way back to camp by smell. He put a hand on Danat's shoulder.
"I've asked Vanjit to meet with me tonight. She's agreed, but it can
only be the two of us," Maati said. "I believe that once it's done I'll
be able to tell you whether the world is still doomed."
29
"No," Otah said. "Absolutely not."
"All respect," Maati said. "You may be the Emperor, but this isn't your
call to make. I don't particularly need your permission, and Vanjit's
got no use for it at all."
"I can have you kept here."
"You won't," Maati said. The poet was sure of himself, Otah thought,
because he was right.
When Danat and Maati had returned early, he had known that something had
happened. The quay they had adopted as the center of the search had been
quiet since the end of the afternoon meal. Ana and Eiah sat in the
shadow of a low stone wall, sleeping or talking when Eiah wasn't going
through the shards of her ruined binding, arranging the shattered wax in
an approximation of the broken tablets. The boatman and his second had
taken apart the complex mechanism connecting boiler to wheel and were
cleaning each piece, the brass and bronze, iron and steel laid out on
gray tarps and shining like jewelry. The voices of the remaining armsmen
joined with the low, constant lapping of the river and the songs of the
birds. At another time, it might have been soothing. Otah, sitting at
his field table, fought the urge to pace or shout or throw stones into
the water. Sitting, racking his brain for details of a place he'd lived
three decades ago, and pushing down his own fears both exhausted him and
made him tense. He felt like a Galtic boiler with too hot a fire and no
release; he could feel the solder melting at his seams.
If they had followed his plan, Danat and Maati would have returned to
the quay from a path that ran south along the river. They came from the
west, down the broad stone steps. Danat held a naked blade forgotten in
his hand, his expression set and unnerved. Maati, walking more slowly,
seemed on the verge of collapse, but also pleased. Otah put down his pen.
"You've found her?"
"She's found us," Maati said. "I think she's been watching us since we
stepped off the boat."
The armsmen clustered around them. Eiah and Ana rose to their feet,