gone through the elaborate ritual of how they would greet the caravan,
rehearsing it in their minds and conversations. The event, of course,
was nothing like what they'd planned.
When word came, Calin was with his tutor, an ancient man from Acton,
working complex sums. They were seated in the sunlight of the spring
garden. Almond blossoms turned the tree branches white even before the
first leaves had ventured out. Calin frowned at the wax tablet on his
knees, trying not to count on his fingers. Hesitating, he lifted his
stylus and marked his answer. His tutor made a noncommittal sound in the
back of his throat and Gaber appeared at the end of the arcade, running
full out.
"It's here!" she screamed. "It's here!"
Before any adult could object, Calin joined her flight. Tablet, stylus,
and sums were forgotten in an instant. They ran past the pavilions that
marked palaces from merchants' compounds, the squares and open markets
that showed where the great compound gave way to the haunts of common
labor. The streets were thick with humanity, and Calin threaded his way
through the press of bodies aided by his youth, the quality of his
robes, and the boyish instinct that saw all obstacles as ephemeral.
He reached the Emperor's platform just before the caravan arrived. Wide
plumes of smoke and steam stained the southern sky, and the air smelled
of coal. Danat and Ana were already there, seated in chairs of carved
stone with silk cushions. Otah Machi-the Emperor himselfsat on a raised
dais, his hands resting like fragile claws on the arms of a black
lacquer chair. Calin's grandfather looked over as he arrived and smiled.
Danat's expression was distracted in a way that reminded Calin of doing
sums. His mother was craning her neck and trying not to seem that she was.
It hardly mattered. The crowd that pressed and seethed around the yard
at the caravan road's end had eyes only for the great carts speeding
toward them, faster than horses at full gallop. Calin sat at his
mother's feet, his intended perch nearest his friends forgotten. The
first of the carts came near enough to make out the raised dais, twin of
his grandfather's, and the stiff-backed white-haired woman sitting atop
it. Calin's mother left all decorum, and stood, waving and calling to
her mother.
Calin felt his father's hand on his shoulder and turned.
"Watch this," Danat said. "Pay attention. That caravan reached us in
half the time even a boat could have. What you're seeing right now is
going to change everything."
Calin nodded solemnly as if he understood.
It is true that the world is renewed. It is also true that that renewal
comes at a price.
CEHMAI TYAN SAT ACROSS THE MEETING TABLE FROM THE HIGH COUNCIL'S special
envoy. The man was nondescript, his clothing of Galtic cut and
unremarkable quality. Cehmai didn't like the envoy, but he respected
him. He'd known too many dangerous men in his life not to.
The envoy read the letters-ciphered and sent between a fictional
merchant in Obar State and Cehmai himself here in Utani. They outlined
the latest advance in the poetmaster's rebuilding of the lost libraries