10
Dawn crept over the school. The dark walls gained detail; the fragile
lacing of frost burned away almost before it was visible. Birdsong that
had begun in darkness grew in volume and complexity. The countless stars
faded into the pale blue and rose of the east. Maati Vaupathai walked
the perimeter of the school, his memory jogged with every new corner he
turned. Here was the classroom where he'd first heard of the andat.
There, the walkway where an older boy had beaten him for not taking the
proper stance. The stables, empty now but for the few animals Eiah had
brought, which Maati had made the younger boys clean with their bare
hands after he had been elevated to the black robes of the older boys.
Ever since his return, Maati had suffered moments when his mind would
spiral back through time, unearthing memories as fresh as yesterday.
This morning in particular, the past seemed present. He walked past the
long-dead echoes of boys crying in their cots, the vanished scent of the
caustic soap they'd used to wash the stone floors, the almostforgotten
smell of young bodies and old food and misery. And then, just as memory
threatened to sweep him away, he heard one of the girls. Large Kae
singing, Irit's laughter, anything. The walls themselves shifted. The
school became something new again, never seen in the world. Women poets,
working together as the risen sun washed the haze from the air.
When he stepped into the kitchen, the warmth of the fire and the damp of
the steam made him feel like he was walking into summer. Eiah and Ashti
Beg sat at the wide table, carving apples into slivers. An iron pot of
rough-ground wheat, rice, and millet burped to itself over the fire. The
gruel was soft and rich with buttercream and honey.
"Maati-kvo!" Small Kae called, and he took a pose of welcome that the
others matched. "There's fresh tea in the green pot. And that bowl there
is clean. The blue one."
"Eiah was just telling us about the news from Pathai," Ashti Beg said.
"Little that there was of it," Eiah said. "Nothing to compare with what
you were all doing here."
"Nothing we did while you were away is going to compare with what we'll
do next," Small Kae said. Her face was bright, her smile taut. She
covered her fear with an unwillingness to conceive of defeat. Maati
poured himself the tea. It smelled like fresh-picked leaves.
"Have we seen Vanjit?" he asked and lowered himself to a cushion beside
the fire. He grunted only a little bit.
"Not yet," Eiah said. "Large Kae went to wake her."
"Perhaps it would be better to let her sleep," Small Kae said. "It is
her day, after all. It seems rude to make demands on her just because we
all want to share it with her."
Eiah smiled, but her gaze was on Maati. A private conversation passed
between them, no longer than three heartbeats together. More would be
decided today than Vanjit and Clarity-of-Sight. Likely they all knew as
much, but no one would say the words. Maati filled a fresh bowl with the
sweet grain, holding it out for Ashti Beg to cover with apple. He didn't
answer Eiah's unspoken question: What will we do if she fails?
Vanjit arrived before he had finished half the bowl. She wore a robe of