Seasons of War

The delight never left its face.
    ‘It is,’ someone said in a voice woven from awe and tears. ‘It’s a baby.’
    And as if the word had broken a dam, chaos flowed through the way-house. Vanjit dashed forward, her hands low to scoop up the andat, and the crowd surged with her. The chorus of questions and shouts rose, filling the air. Maati started forward, then stopped. The older of the drummers appeared from amid the throng and embraced him, tears of joy in the man’s eyes.
    Through the press of the crowd, Maati saw Eiah standing alone. Her expression was cold. Maati pulled back from his grinning companion and struggled toward her. He heard Vanjit talking high and fast behind him, but couldn’t make out the words. There were too many voices layered over it.
    ‘Apparently we’ve decided not to travel quietly,’ Eiah said in tone of cold acid.
    ‘Get the others,’ he said. ‘I’ll prepare the cart. We can leave in the night.’
    ‘You think anyone here is going to sleep tonight?’ Eiah said. ‘There’s a baby. A full-blooded child of the cities, and Vanjit the mother. If the gods themselves walked in the door right now, they’d have to wait for a room. They’ll think it’s to do with me. The physician who has found a way to make women bear. They’ll hound me like I’ve stolen their teeth.’
    ‘I’m sorry,’ Maati said.
    ‘Word of this is going to spread. Father’s going to hear of it, and when he does, he’ll be on our heels.’
    ‘Why would he think it was you?’
    ‘Galt went blind, and he headed west. For Pathai. For me,’ Eiah said.
    ‘He can’t know you’re part of this,’ Maati said.
    ‘Of course he can,’ Eiah said. ‘I am, and he isn’t dim. I didn’t think it was a problem when no one knew who or where we were.’
    A round of cheering broke out, and the wayhouse keeper appeared as if from nowhere, two bottles of wine in each hand. Vanjit had been ushered to a seat by the fire grate. Clarity-of-Sight was in her arms, beaming at everyone who came close. Vanjit’s cheeks were flushed, but she seemed pleased. Proud. Happy.
    ‘This was my mistake,’ Maati said. ‘My failure as much as anything. I distracted her from the thing. It has more freedom when her mind is elsewhere.’
    Eiah turned her head to look at him. There was nothing soft in her eyes. Maati drew himself up, frowning. Anger bloomed in his breast, but he couldn’t say why or with whom.
    ‘Why is it so important to you,’ Eiah asked, ‘that nothing she does be wrong?’
    And with a sensation that was almost physical, Maati knew what he had been trying for months to ignore. A wave of vertigo shook him, but he forced himself to speak.
    ‘Because she should never have become a poet,’ he said. ‘She’s too young and too angry and more than half mad. And that beast on her lap? We gave it to her.’
    Eiah’s startled expression lasted only a moment before something both resignation and weariness took its place. She kissed Maati’s cheek. They stood together, a silence within the storm. He had said what she had already known, and she too had wished it was not truth.
    Large Kae and Small Kae quietly prepared the cart and horses. While the wayhouse and every man and woman within running distance came to pay homage to child, mother, and physician, Irit and Maati packed their things. Eiah saw to it that the wine flowed freely, that - near the end - the celebratory drinks were all laced with certain herbs.
    It was still four hands before dawn when they made their escape. Maati and Eiah drove the cart. Large Kae rode ahead, leading the spare horses. The others slept in the cart, exhausted bodies fitted in among the crates and sacks. The moon had already set, and the road before them was black and featureless apart from Large Kae’s guiding torch. The fog had cleared, but a deep cold kept Maati’s cloak wrapped tight. His eyes wanted nothing more than to close.
    ‘We can make the river in seven days if we go through the night. Large Kae will fight against it for the horses’ sake,’ Maati said.
    ‘I’ll fight against it for yours,’ Eiah said. ‘There was a reason I was trying to make this journey restful.’
    ‘I’m fine. I’ll last to Utani and years past it, you watch.’ He sighed. His flesh seemed about to drip off his bones from simple exhaustion. ‘You watch.’
    ‘Crawl back,’ Eiah said. ‘Rest. I can do this alone.’
    ‘You’d fall asleep,’ Maati said.
    ‘And use you for a