Daniel Abraham - THE

is complete."

Small Kae smiled and applauded. Large Kae grinned. Eiah made a show of

pulling a wineskin from her bags. They all applauded now. Even Vanjit.

But Eiah's gaze faltered when her eyes met Maati's, and his belly soured.

Something in her wine to deepen her sleep. She mustn't see the blow coming.

"Yes," Maati said, trying to hide his fear. "Yes, I think celebration is

in order."

"You've seen the new draft?" Vanjit asked as Eiah poured the wine into

bowls. "Is it ready?"

"I haven't been through it all as yet," he said. "There are some changes

that make me optimistic. By Udun, I'll have a better-informed opinion."

The two Kaes were toasting each other, the fire. Eiah came to Maati and

Vanjit. She pressed bowls into their hands, and went back to pour one

for herself. Maati drank quickly, grateful for something to do that

would occupy his hands and his mind. If only for a moment.

Vanjit swirled her wine bowl, looking down at it with what might have

been serenity.

"Maati-kvo," Vanjit said. "Do you remember when I first came to you?

Gods, it seems like it was a different life, doesn't it? You were

outside Shosheyn-Tan."

"Lachi," Eiah said from across the fire.

"Of course," Vanjit said. "I remember now. I met Umnit at a bathhouse,

and we'd started talking. She brought me to Eiah-cha, and Eiah brought

me to you. It was that abandoned house, the one with all the mice.

"I remember," Maati said. The two Kaes exchanged a glance that Maati

didn't understand. Vanjit laughed, throwing back her head.

"I can't think what you saw in me back then," she said. "I must have

looked like something the dogs wouldn't eat."

"They were lean times for all of us," Maati said, forcing a jovial tone.

"Not for you," she said. "Not with Eiah to look after you. No, don't you

pretend that she hasn't supported us all from the start. Without her, we

would never have come this far."

Eiah took a pose that accepted the compliment and raised her wine bowl,

but Vanjit still didn't drink from her own. Maati willed her to drink

the poison, to end this.

"I think of who I was then," Vanjit said, her voice soft and

contemplative. She sounded like a child. Or worse, like a grown woman

trying to sound childish. "Lost. Empty. And then the gods touched my

shoulder and turned me toward you. All of you, really. You've been the

only family I've ever had. I mean, since the Galts came."

At her feet, Clarity-of-Sight wailed as if heartbroken. Vanjit turned to

it, her brow furrowed in concentration. The andat squirmed, shuddered,

and became still. The tension in Maati's shoulders was spreading to his

throat. He could see Eiah's hands clutching her bowl.

"The only family I've had," Vanjit said, as if finding her place in a

practiced speech. And then softly, "Did you think I wouldn't know?"

Large Kae put down her bowl, her gaze shifting from Eiah to Vanjit and

back. Maati shifted to the side, his throat almost too tight for words.

"Know what?" he asked. The words came out stilted and rough. Even he

wasn't convinced by them. Vanjit stared at him, disappointment in her

expression. No one moved, but Maati felt something shifting in his eyes.

The andat's attention was on him, the tiny face growing more and more

detailed with each heartbeat.

Vanjit held out the poisoned wine bowl. The color was wrong. No human

would ever have seen the difference, but with the andat driving his

vision and hers, there was no mistaking it. The deep red had a greenish

taint that no other bowl suffered.

"What ... what's that?" Maati squeaked.

"I don't know," Vanjit said in a voice that meant she did. "Perhaps you

should drink it for me, and we could see. But no. You're too valuable.

Eiah, perhaps?"

"I'm sorry. Did I not clean the bowl well enough?" Eiah asked.

Vanjit threw her bowl into the fire, flames hissing and smoke rushing up

in a cloud. There was rage in her expression.

"Vanjit," Eiah said. "I don't think ..."

Vanjit ignored them, untying her satchel with a fast scrabbling motion.

When she lifted it, blocks of wax spilled out, gray and white, like

rotten ice. Maati saw bits of Eiah's writing cut into them.

"You were going to kill me," Vanjit said.

Eiah took a pose that denied the charge. The firelight flickered over

Vanjit's face, and for a moment, Maati thought the poet might believe

the lie. He cleared his throat.

"We wouldn't do that," he said.

Vanjit turned to him, her expression empty and mad. At his feet, the

andat made a sound that might have been a warning or a laugh.

"Do you think he only speaks to you?" Vanjit spat.

Maati sputtered, falling back a step when Vanjit lunged forward. She

only scooped up the andat, turned, and ran into the darkness.

Maati scrambled after her, calling her name with a deepening sense of

despair. The trees were shadows within the night's larger darkness. His

voice seemed too weak to carry more than a few paces before him. It

couldn't have been more than half a hand-less than that, certainlywhen

he stopped to catch his breath. Leaning against an ancient ash, he

realized that Vanjit was gone and he was lost, only the soft rushing of

the river away to his left still there to guide him. He picked his way

back, trying to follow the route he had taken and failing. A carpet of

dry leaves made his steps loud. Something shifted in the branches

overhead. The cold numbed his fingers and toes. The half-moon glimmering

among the branches assured him that he had not been blinded. It was the

only comfort he had.

In the end, he made his way east until he found the river, and then

south to the wide mud where the boat still rested. It was simple enough

to find the little camp after that. He tried to nurture some hope that

he would step into the circle of firelight to find Vanjit returned and,

through some unimagined turn of events, peace restored. The laughter and

soft company of the first days of the school returned; time unwound, and

his life ready to be lived again without the errors. He wanted it to be

true so badly that when he stumbled into the clearing and found Eiah and

the two Kaes seated by the fire, he almost thought they were well.

Eiah turned gray, fogged eyes toward him.

"Who's there?" she demanded at the sound of his approaching steps.

"It's me," Maati said, wheezing. "I'm fine. But Vanjit's gone."

Large Kae began to weep. Small Kae put an arm over the woman's shaking

shoulders and murmured something, her eyes closed and tearstreaked.

Maati sat at the fire. His bowl of soup had overturned.

"She's done for the three of us," Eiah said. "None of us can see at all."

"I'm sorry," Maati said. It was profoundly inadequate.

"Can you help me?" Eiah said, gesturing toward something Maati couldn't

fathom. Then he saw the pile of wax fragments. "I think I have them all,

but it's hard to be sure."

"Leave them," Maati said. "Let them go."

"I can't," Eiah said. "I have to try the thing. I can do it now. Tonight."

Maati looked at her. The fire popped, and she shifted her head toward

the sound. Her jaw was set, her gray eyes angry. The cold wind made her

robes flutter at her ankles like a flag.

"No," he said. "You can't."

"I have been studying this for weeks," Eiah said, her voice sharpening.

"Only help me put these back together, and I can ..."

"You can die," Maati said. "I know you've changed the binding. You won't