true father's knee, listening to him with this same intensity. Perhaps
Nayiit would have treated him with the same attention that Vanjit did
now. Or perhaps their shared hunger belonged to people who had lost the
first object of their love.
By the time Eiah and the others arrived in the late morning, Maati had
reached the decision that he'd fought against the whole night. He took
Eiah aside as soon as she came in.
"I have need of you," Maati said. "How much can you spirit away without
our being noticed? We'll need food and clothing and tools. Lots of
tools. And if there's a servant or slave you can trust ..."
"There isn't," Eiah said. "But things are in disarray right now. Half
the court in Nantani would chew their tongues out before offering
hospitality to a Galt. The other half are whipped to a froth trying to
get to Saraykeht before the rest. A few wagonloads here and there would
be easy to overlook."
Maati nodded, more than half to himself. Eiah took a pose of query.
"You're going to build me a school. I know where there's one to be had,
and with the others helping, it shouldn't take terribly long to have it
in order. And we need a teacher."
"We have a teacher, Maati-kya," Eiah said.
Maati didn't answer, and after a moment, Eiah looked down.
"Cehmai?" she asked.
"He's the only other living poet. The only one who's truly held one of
the andat. He could do more, I suspect, than I can manage."
"I thought you two had fallen out?"
"I don't like his wife," Maati said sourly. "But I have to try. The two
of us agreed on a way to find one another, if the need arose. I can hope
he's kept to it better than I have."
"I'll come with you."
"No," Maati said, putting a hand on Eiah's shoulder. "I need you to
prepare things for us. There's a place-I'll draw you a map to it. The
Galts attacked it in the war, killed everyone, but even if they dropped
bodies down the well, the water'll be fresh again by now. It's off the
high road between Pathai and Nantani...."
"That school?" Eiah said. "The place they sent the boys to train as
poets? That's where you want to go?"
"Yes," Maati said. "It's out of the way, it's built for itinerant poets,
and there may be something there-some book or scroll or engravings on
the walls-that the twice-damned Galts overlooked. Regardless, it's where
it all began. It's where we are going to take it all back."
3
The voyage returning Otah to the cities of the Khaiem took weeks to
prepare, and if the ships that had left Saraykeht all those months
before had looked like an invading fleet, the ones returning were a city
built on the water. The high-masted Galtic ships with their great
billowing sails dyed red and blue and gold took to the sea by the
dozens. Every great family of Galt seemed bent on sending a ship greater
than the others. The ships of the utkhaiem-lacquered and delicate and
low to the water-seemed small and awkward beside these, their newest