Seasons of War

couldn’t bring himself to ask the favor. Not knowing what he knew. Not intending what he intended.
    When evening came, the boatman sang out, his second joining the high whooping call. There was no reason for it that Maati could see, only the habit of years. The boat angled its way to a low, muddy bank. When the water was still enough, the second dropped over the side and slogged to the line of trees, a rope thick as his arm trailing behind him. Once the rope had been made fast to the trees, he called out again, and the boatman shifted the mechanism of the boiler from paddle wheel to winch, and the great rope went taut. It creaked with the straining, and river water flowed from the strands as if giant hands were wringing it. By the time the boatman stopped, the craft was almost jumping distance from the shore and felt as solid as a building.
    It made Maati uncomfortable, afraid that they had grounded it so well that they wouldn’t be able to free it in the morning. The boatman and his second showed no unease.
    A wide plank made a bridge between boat and shore. The boatman wrestled it into place with a stream of perfunctory vulgarity. The second, his robes soaked and muddied, trotted back onto the deck.
    ‘We’re doing well, eh?’ Maati said to the boatman. ‘The distance we went today must have been four days’ ride.’
    ‘We’ll do well enough,’ the boatman agreed. ‘Have you in Utani before the last leaf drops, that’s certain.’
    Large Kae went across to the shore, two tents on her wide back. Eiah was just behind her with a crate of food to make the evening meal. The twilight sky was gray streaked with gold, and the calls of birds gave some hint to where the boatman’s songs had found their start. On another night, it would have been beautiful.
    ‘How many days do you think that would be?’ Maati asked, trying to keep his tone light and friendly. From the boatman’s perfunctory smile, it wasn’t an unfamiliar question.
    ‘Six days,’ the boatman said. ‘Seven. If it’s been raining to the north and the river starts running faster, it could go past that, but this time of year, that’s rare.’
    Vanjit shifted past them, brushing against Maati as she stepped onto the plank. The andat was curled against her, its head resting on her shoulder like a tired child might.
    ‘Thank you,’ Maati said.
    They made camp a dozen yards inland, where the ground was dry. It was habit now. Routine. Eiah dug the fire pit, Small Kae gathered wood. Large Kae put the sleeping tents in place. Irit would have started cooking, but Maati knew well enough how to take her part. A few bowlfuls of river water, crushed lentils that had been soaking since morning, slivers of salted pork, an onion they’d hauled almost from the school. It made for a better soup than Maati had first expected, though the gods all knew he was tired of it now. It would keep them alive until morning.
    Vanjit stepped out of the shadows just as Maati filled a bowl for the boatman, the andat on one hip, a satchel on the other. Everyone was aware that she hadn’t helped to make camp. No one complained. In the firelight, she looked younger even than she was. Her eyes flashed, and she smiled.
    Vanjit sat at Maati’s side, accepting the next full bowl. The andat rested at her feet, shifting its weight as if to crawl away but then shifting back. The boatman and his second went back to their boat, bowls steaming in their hands. It was, Maati supposed, all well for passengers to sleep on the shore, but someone needed to stay with the boat. Better for them as well. It would have been awkward, explaining why the baby’s breath didn’t fog.
    When they had gone, Eiah rose to her feet. The darkness under her eyes was dispelled by her smile. The others looked up at her.
    ‘I would like to announce a small celebration,’ she said. ‘I’ve been reworking the binding for Wounded, and as of today, the latest version 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