endless change would change again. For the first time in years, Maati
found himself pleased by the thought.
The days following his return had fallen into a rhythm. In the mornings,
he and his students worked on the simple tasks of maintenance that the
school demanded: mending the coops for the chickens they'd brought from
Utani, weeding the paths, washing the webs and dust from the corners of
the rooms. At midday, they stopped, made food, and rested in the shade
of the gardens or on the long, sloping hills where he had taken lessons
as a boy. Afterward, he would retire for the afternoon, preparing his
lectures and writing in his book until his eyes ached and then taking a
short nap to revive before the evening lecture. And always, whatever the
day brought, the subject drew itself back to Vanjit and Clarity-ofSight.
"What about when you see things that aren't there?" Small Kae said.
"Dreams, you mean?" Eiah asked.
Maati leaned forward on the podium. The classroom was larger than they
required, all six of his students sitting in the first row. The high,
narrow windows that had never known glass let the evening breeze disturb
their lanterns. He had ended his remarks early. He found there was less
need to fill the time with his knowledge than there had once been. Now a
few remarks and comments would spur conversation and analysis that often
led far from where he had intended. But it was rarely unproductive and
never dull.
"Dreams," Small Kae said. "Or when you mistake things for other things."
"My brother had a fever once," Ashti Beg said. "Saw rats coming through
the walls for three days."
"I don't think that applies," Eiah said. "The definitions we've based
the draft on are all physicians' texts. They have to do with the actual
function of the eye."
"But if you see a thing without your eyes," Small Kae began.
"Then you're imagining them," Vanjit said, her voice calm and certain.
"And the passages on clarity would prevent the contradiction."
"What contradiction?" Large Kae asked.
"Who can answer that?" Maati said, leaping into the fray. "It's a good
question, but any of you should be able to think it through. Ashti-cha?
Would you care to?"
The older woman sucked her teeth for a moment. A sparrow flew in through
one window, its wings fluttering like a pennant in the wind, and then
out again.
"Clarity," Ashti Beg said slowly. "The sense of clarity implies that
it's reflecting the world as it is, ne? And if you see something that's
not there to be seen, it's not the world as it is. Even if imagining
something is like sight, it isn't like clarity."
"Very good," Maati said, and the woman smiled. Maati smiled back.
The binding had progressed more quickly than Maati had thought possible.
For the greatest part, the advances had been made in moments like these.
Seven minds prodding at the same thought, debating the nuances and
structures, challenging one another to understand the issues at hand
more deeply. Someone-anyone-would find a phrase or a thought that struck
sparks, and Vanjit would pull pages from her sleeve and mark down