and then bitter."
"You've done it," Maati said around the pinch of leaves she put on his
tongue.
Eiah looked at him, her expression startled. He smiled at her.
"You bound it. You've cured the blindness."
Eiah looked up at her creation, her slave. It nodded.
"Well, no," she said. "I mean, yes, I bound him. And I did undo Vanjit's
damage to Ana and myself. And then you, when I saw that she'd done it."
"Galt?" Ana asked.
"I hadn't ... I hadn't even thought of it. Gods. Is there anything
different to be done? I mean, a whole nation at once?"
"You have to do everything," Maati said. "Birds. Beasts. Fish. Everyone,
everywhere. You have to hurry. It's only a thought." The herbs were
making his mouth tingle and burn, but the pain in his breast seemed to
ebb. "It's no different."
Eiah turned to the andat. The kind, pale face hardened. No matter how it
seemed, the thing wasn't a man and it wasn't gentle. But it was bound to
her will, and a moment later Eiah caught her breath.
"It's done," she said, wonder in her voice. "They've been put back. The
ones who are left."
Ana stepped forward and knelt, wordlessly enfolding Eiah in her arms.
From where he lay, he could see Eiah's eyes close, watch her lean into
the embrace. The two women seemed to pause in time, a moment that lasted
less than two long breaths together but carried the weight of years
within it. Eiah raised her head sharply and the andat twitched. Idaan
leaped up, yelping. All eyes turned to her as she pressed a flat palm to
her belly.
"That," she said, "felt very odd. You should warn someone when you're
planning something like that."
"Sterile?" Otah asked. His voice was low. There was no joy in it.
"Repaired," Eiah said. "We can bear again. Galts can father children and
we can bear them."
"I don't suppose you could leave me as I was?" Idaan asked.
"So we've begun again," Otah said. "It is all as it was. We've only
changed a few names. Well-"
Wounded cut him off with a low bark of a laugh. Its eyes were fixed upon
Eiah. Otah looked from one to the other, his hands taking a querying
pose. Woman and slave both ignored him.
"Everyone?" the andat asked.
"Everyone, everywhere," Eiah said. "It's only a thought, isn't it?
That's all it needs to be."
"What are you doing?" Ana asked. It seemed like a real curiosity.
"I'm curing everyone," Eiah said. "If there's a child in Bakta who split
her head on a stone this morning, I want it fixed. A man in Eymond whose
hip was broken when he was a boy and healed poorly, I want him walking
without pain in the morning. Everyone. Everywhere. Now."
"Eiah Machi," the andat said, its voice low and amused, "the little girl
who saved the world. Is that how you see it? Or is this how you
apologize for slaughtering a whole people?"