Vanjit took a pose that was a promise and an expression of gratitude.

The quiet sobs as she walked away made Maati feel smaller. If they had

been in a city, he would have gone to a bathhouse or some public square,

listened to beggars singing on the corners and bought food from the

carts. He would have tried to lose himself for a while, perhaps in wine,

perhaps in music, rarely in gambling, and never in sex. At the school,

there was no escape. He walked out, leaving the stone walls and memories

behind him. Then the gardens. The low hills that haunted the land west

of the buildings.

He sat on the wind-paved hillside, marking the passage of the sun across

the afternoon sky, his mind tugged a hundred different ways. He had been

too harsh with Vanjit, or not harsh enough. The binding of Wounded was

overworked or not deeply enough considered, doomed or on the edge of

being perfected. Ashti Beg had been in the wrong or justified or both.

He closed his eyes and let the sunlight beat down on them, turning the

world to red.

In time, the turmoil in his heart calmed. A small, blue-tailed lizard

scrambled past him. He had chased lizards like it when he'd been a boy.

He hadn't recalled that in years.

It was folly to think of poets as different from other men. Other women,

now that Vanjit had proved their grammar effective. It was that mistake

which had made the school what it was, which had deformed the lives of

so many people, his own included. Of course Vanjit was still subject to

petty jealousy and pride. Of course she would need to learn wisdom, just

the same as anyone else. The andat had never changed who someone was,

only what they could do.

He should have taught them that along with all the rest. Every now and

again, he could have spent an evening talking about what power was, and

what responsibility it carried. He'd never thought to do it, he now

realized, because when he imagined a woman wielding the power of the

andat, that woman was always Eiah.

Maati made his way back as the cold afternoon breeze set the trees and

bushes rustling. He found the kitchen empty but immaculate. The broken

cutting stone had been replaced with a length of polished wood, but

otherwise everything was as it had been. His students, he found under

Eiah's command in the courtyard. They were raking the fallen leaves into

a pit for burning and resetting a half-dozen flagstones that had broken

from years of frost, tree roots, and neglect. Vanjit knelt with Large

Kae, lifting the stones from the ground. Clarity-of-Sight nestled in

Irit's lap, its eyes closed and its mouth a perfect O. Ashti Beg, her

vision clearly restored, was by Small Kae's side, a deep pile of russet

leaves before them.

"Maati-kvo," Eiah said, taking a pose of greeting, which he returned.

The others acknowledged him with a smile or simple pose. Vanjit turned

away quickly, as if afraid to see anger still in his expression.

He trundled to a rough boulder, resting against it to catch his breath.

Irit joined him and, without a word, passed the andat to him. It

stirred, groaned once, and then turned to nestle its face into his

robes. The andat had no need of breath. Maati had known that since he

had first met Seedless over half a century earlier. Clarity-of-Sight's

deep, regular sighs were manipulations, but Maati welcomed them. To hold

something so much like a child but as still as the dead would have

unnerved him.

Irit especially talked in light tones, but no one seeing them would have

guessed that one of the group had been swinging a knife at another

earlier in the day. Apart from a mutually respected distance between

Ashti Beg and Vanjit, there was no sign of unease.

Large Kae and Small Kae left to prepare a simple meal just as Eiah put

the torch to the pit of leaves. The flames rose, dancing. Pale smoke

filled the air with the scent of autumn, then floated into the sky while

the rest of them watched: Vanjit and Eiah, Ashti Beg, Irit, Maati and

Clarityof-Sight, who was also Blindness. The andat seemed captivated by

the flames. Maati stretched his palm out to the fire and felt the heat

pushing gently back.

They ate roasted chicken and drank watered wine. By the end of the meal,

Vanjit was smiling again. When the last wine bowl was empty, the last

thin, blood-darkened bone set bare on its plate, she was the first to

rise and gather the washing. Maati felt a relief that surprised him. The

trouble had passed; whether it had been Vanjit's pride or Ashti Beg's

jealousy, it didn't matter.

To show his approval, Maati joined in the cleaning himself, sweeping the

kitchen and building up the fire. In place of the usual lecture, they

discussed the difficulties of looking too long at a binding. It came out

that all of them had felt some disquiet at the state of Eiah's work.

Even that was reassuring.

He and Eiah sat together after the session ended. A small kettle smelled

equally of hot iron and fresh tea. The wind was picking up outside, cold

and fragrant with the threat of rain or snow. By the warm light of the

fire grate, Eiah looked tired.

"I'll leave in the morning," Eiah said. "I want to beat the worst of the

weather, if I can."

"That seems wise," Maati said and sipped his tea. It was still scalding

hot, but its taste was comforting.

"Ashti Beg wants to come with me," she said. "I don't know what to do

about that."

He put down his bowl.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

"That she might leave. After today, I'm afraid she's been soured on the

work."

Maati snorted and waved the concern away.

"She'll move past it," Maati said. "It's finished. Vanjit overstepped,

and she's seen it. I don't think Ashti's so petty as to hold things past

that."

"Perhaps," Eiah said. "You think I should take her with me, then?"

"Certainly. There's no reason not to, and it will give you another pair

of hands on the road. And besides, we're a school, not a prison. If she

truly wants to leave, she should be able to."

"Even now?" Eiah asked.

"What option do we have?" Maati asked. "Chain her to a tree? Kill her?

No, Eiah-kya. Ashti Beg won't abandon the work, but if she does, we have

no choice but to let her."

Eiah was silent for five slow breaths together. When she looked up, he

was surprised by her grim expression.

"I still can't quite bring myself to believe Vanjit did that."

"Why not?"

Eiah frowned, her hands clasped together. Some distant shutter's ties

had slipped; wood clapping against stone. A soft wind pushed at the