The Price of Spring (Long Price Quartet #4)(96)

He looked at the bowl of dark tea in his hands. The warmth of it was almost gone. Small bits of leaf and root shifted in the depths. An idea occurred to him. Not, perhaps, a brilliant one, but they would reach the river and hire a boat in the morning. It was a risk worth taking.

"Eiah-kya," he said softly. "Something's odd with this tea. Could you...?"

Eiah looked over at him. She looked old in the dim light of moon and fire. She came to the tree where he sat. Large Kae's gaze followed her. The sleepers in the cart didn't stir, but the andat's eyes were on him. Maati held out the bowl, and Eiah sipped from it.

"We need to speak," Maati said under his breath. "The others can't know."

"It seems fine. Give me your wrists," Eiah said in a conversational tone. Then, softly, "What's happened?"

"It's the andat. Blindness. It spoke to me. It told me to kill Vanjit-cha. This is all its doing."

Eiah switched to compare pulses in both wrists, her eyes closed as if she were concentrating.

"How do you mean?" she whispered.

"The babe was always clinging to Ashti Beg. It made Ashti-cha feel that it cared for her. Vanjit grew jealous. The conflict between them was the andat's doing. Now that it thinks we're frightened of it, it's trying to use me as well. It's Stone-Made-Soft encouraging Cehmai-cha into distracting conflicts. It's Seedless again."

Eiah put down his wrists, pressing her fingertips against his palms with the air of a buyer at a market.

"Does it matter?" Eiah murmured. "Say that the andat has been manipulating us all. What does that change?"

Eiah put down his hands. Her smile was thin and humorless. Something scurried in the bushes, small and fast. A mouse, perhaps.

"Is all well?" Large Kae called from the fire. In the cart, someone moaned and stirred.

"Fine," Maati said. "We're fine. Only adjusting something." Then, quietly, "I doubt it changes anything. Vanjit's more likely to side with Clarity-of-Sight than with us. If it is scheming against her-and, really, I can't see why it wouldn't be-it's better placed to get what it wants. It is her. It knows what she needs and what she fears."

"You think she wants to die?" Eiah asked.

"I think she wants to stop hurting. Binding the andat was supposed to stop the pain. Having a babe was supposed to. Revenge on the Galts. Now here she is with everything she wanted, and she still hurts."

Maati shrugged. Eiah took a pose of agreement and of sorrow.

"If she weren't a poet, I'd pity her," Eiah said. "But she is, and so she frightens me."

"Maati-kya?" Vanjit's voice came from the darkness over Eiah's shoulder. It was high and anxious. "What's the matter with Maati-kvo?"

"Nothing," Eiah said, turning back. Vanjit was sitting up, her hair wild, her eyes wide. The andat was clutched to her breast. Eiah took a reassuring pose. "Everything's fine."

Poet and andat looked at Maati with expressions of distrust so alike they were eerie.

THE RIVER QIIT HAD ITS SOURCE FAR NORTH OF UTANI. RAINS FROM THE mountain ranges that divided the cities of the Khaiem from the Westlands flowed east into the wide flats, gathered together, and carved their way south. Utani, the ruins of Udun, and then far to the south, the wide, silted delta just east of Saraykeht.

At its widest, the river was nearly half a mile across, but that was farther south. Here, at the low town squatting on the riverfront, the water was less than half that, its surface smooth and shining as silver. Eight thin streets crossed one another at unpredictable angles. Dogs and chickens negotiated their peace in bark and squawk, tooth and beak as Maati drove past. Two wayhouses offered rest. Another teahouse was painted in characters that made it clear there were no beds for hire there, and grudgingly offered fresh noodles and old wine. The air smelled rich with decay and new growth, the cold water and the dust of the road. There should have been children in the streets, calling, begging, playing games both innocent and cruel.

Maati drew the cart to a halt in the yard of the wayhouse nearest the riverfront itself. Large Kae dismounted and went in to negotiate for a room. After the incident with the andat, the agreement was that someone would always be in a private room with the shutters closed and the door bolted, watching the andat. If all went as he intended it, they would be on the river well before nightfall, but still ...

Vanjit's scowl had deepened through the day. Twice more they had passed men and women with pale skin and blind eyes. Two were begging at the side of the road, another was being led on the end of a rope by an old woman. Eiah had not insisted on stopping to offer them aid. Happily, there were no Galtic faces at the wayhouse. Vanjit paused in the main room, her hand on Maati's shoulder. The andat was in her other arm, concealed by a blanket and as still as death.

"Maati-kvo," she said. "I'm worried. Eiah has been so strange since we left the school, don't you think? All the hours she's spent writing on those tablets. I don't think it's good for her."

"I'm sure she's fine," Maati said with what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

"And giving silver to those Galts," Vanjit said, her voice creeping higher. "I don't know what she means by that. Do you?"

Large Kae came in from a dark corridor and motioned them to follow. Maati almost had to pull Vanjit to get her attention. She glared at Large Kae's back as they walked.