The Price Of Spring(76)

"You know, then," Vanjit said. "It was inevitable."

"You should have told me what you intended," Maati said. "It was a dangerous, rash thing to do. And it's going to have consequences."

Vanjit put Clarityof-Sight on the floor at her feet. The thing shrieked complaint, and she bent toward it, her jaw clenched. Maati recognized the push and pull of wills between andat and poet. Even before the andat whimpered and went silent, he had no doubt of the outcome.

"You were going to tell the world of what we'd done anyway," Vanjit said. "But you couldn't be sure they would have stopped the Emperor, could you? This way they can't go forward."

"Why didn't you tell Maati-kvo what you were doing?" Eiah asked.

"Because he would have told me not to," Vanjit said, anger in her voice.

"I would have," Maati said. "Yes."

"It isn't fair, Maati-kya," Vanjit said. "It isn't right that they should come here, take our places. They were the killers, not us. They were the ones who brought blades to our cities. Any of the poets could have destroyed Galt at any time, and we never, ever did."

"And that makes it right to crush them now?" Eiah demanded.

"Yes," Vanjit said. There were tears in her eyes.

Eiah tilted her head. Long familiarity told Maati the thoughts that occupied Eiah's mind. This girl, sitting before them both, had been granted the power of a small god by their work. Maati's and Eiah's. The others had helped, but the three of them together in that room carried the decision. And so the weight of its consequences.

"It was ill advised," Maati said. "The low towns should have been our allies and support. Now they've been angered."

"Why?" Vanjit asked.

"They don't know what our plan is," Maati said. "They don't know about Eiah and Wounded. All they see is that there was a glimmer of hope. Yes, I know it was a thin, false hope, but it was all that they had."

"That's stupid," Vanjit said.

"It only seems that way because we know more than they," Eiah said.

"We can tell them," Vanjit said.

"If we can calm them long enough to listen," Maati said. "But that isn't what I've come here for. I am your teacher, Vanjit-cha. I need two things of you. Do you understand?"

The girl looked at the ground, her hands rising in a pose of acceptance appropriate for a student to her master.

"First, you must never take this kind of action with the andat without telling me. We have too many plans and they are too delicate for any of us to act without the others knowing it."

"Eiah sent Ashti Beg away," Vanjit said.

"And we discussed that possibility before they left," Maati said. "The second thing ... What you've done to the Galts, only you can undo."

The girl looked up now. Anger flashed in her eyes. The andat gurgled and clapped its tiny hands. Maati held up a finger, insisting that she wait until he had finished.

"If you hold to this," he said, "thousands of people will die. Women and children who are innocent of any crime."

"It's what they did to us," she said. 117hat they did to we. Maati reached forward and took her hand.

"I understand," he said. "I won't tell you to undo this thing. But for me, think carefully about how the burden of those deaths will weigh on you. You're angry now, and anger gives you strength. But when it's faded, you will still be responsible for what you've done."

"I will, Maati-kvo," Vanjit said.

Eiah made a sound in the back of her throat, its meaning unguessable. Maati smiled and put a hand on Vanjit's shoulder.

"Well. That's settled. Now, I suppose it's time to get back to work. Give these people in the low towns something to celebrate."

"You've done it, then, Eiah-kya?" Vanjit asked. "You've found the insight you needed? You understand Wounded?"

Eiah was quiet for a moment, looking down at Vanjit and Clarity-ofSight. Her lips twitched into a thin, joyless smile.

"Closer," Eiah said. "I've come closer."





Chapter 17

Seeing Balasar Gice shook Otah more than he had expected. He had always known that the general was not a large-framed man, but his presence had always filled the room. Seeing him seated at a table by the window with his eyes the gray of old pearls, Otah felt he was watching the man die. The robes seemed too large on him, or his shoulders suddenly grown small.

Outside the window, the morning sun lit the sea. Gulls called and complained to one another. A small plate had the remnants of fresh cheese and cut apple; the cheese flowed in the day's heat, the pale flesh of the apple had gone brown. Otah cleared his throat. Balasar smiled, but didn't bother turning his head toward the sound.