Seasons of War

what the philosophers meant by wisdom.
    Somewhere ahead, Maati and Eiah and the new poet were making their own way to Utani and, he thought, the proclamation of their victory. Perhaps Eiah would bind her andat as well, and return to the women of the Khaiate cities their wombs. There would be children again, a new generation to take the place of the old. All that would be sacrificed was Galt, and the world would be put back as it was. An empire now, instead of a scattering of cities, but with the andat, slaves of spirit and will, putting them above the rest of the world.
    Until a new Balasar Gice found a way to bring it all down, and the cycle of suffering and desperation began anew.
    ‘You’ve gone solemn,’ Idaan said.
    ‘Steeling myself for failure,’ Otah said. ‘We’ll be on them soon, I think. And . . .’
    ‘You’ve been thinking about forgiveness,’ Idaan said. Otah looked at Ana, listening, rapt. Idaan shook her head. ‘The girl’s strong enough to know the truth. There’s no virtue in softening it.’
    ‘Please,’ Ana said.
    Otah took a deep breath and let it slide out between his teeth. River water traced a cold path down his back. On the east bank, half a hundred crows took to the air, startled by something on the ground or just one another.
    ‘If we lose Galt,’ Otah said, stopped, and began again, more slowly. ‘If we lose Galt, I don’t believe I can forgive them. I know what you said, and Danat. I should. I should do whatever it takes to stop all this, even if it means agreeing that I’ve lost, but it’s beyond me. I’m too old to forgive anymore, and . . .’
    ‘And,’ Idaan said, making it sound like agreement.
    ‘I don’t understand,’ Ana said.
    ‘That’s because you haven’t killed anyone,’ Idaan said. Otah looked up at her. Idaan’s eyes were dark but not unsympathetic. When she went on, the words were addressed to Ana, but her gaze was fixed on his. ‘There are some things about my brother that few people know. His best friend, Maati, was one who knew his secrets. And because of Maati, Cehmai. And so I am also one of the few to know what happened all those years ago in Saraykeht.’
    To his surprise, Otah found himself weeping silently. Ana leaned forward, her brow fierce.
    ‘What happened?’ she asked.
    ‘I killed a good man. An honorable, unwell man with a wounded soul,’ Otah said softly. ‘I strangled him to death in a little room off a mud-paved alley in the soft quarter.’
    ‘Why?’ Ana asked.
    The answers to that seemed so intricate, so complex, he couldn’t find words.
    Idaan could.
    ‘To save Galt,’ she said. ‘If the man had lived, all of Galt would have at least suffered horribly, and likely been wiped from the map. Otah had the choice of condemning his city or letting thousands upon thousands upon thousands of your countrymen die. He chose to betray Saraykeht. He’s carried it ever since. He’s ordered men killed in war. He’s sentenced them to death. But he’s only ever ended one life himself. Seen something that had been a man become only a body. If you haven’t done it, it’s a hard thing to understand.’
    ‘That’s truth,’ Otah said.
    ‘And along with all the other insults and injuries and pain that he’s caused. Along with the deaths,’ Idaan said, sorrow and amusement mixed in her voice, ‘Maati Vaupathai has taken away the thing that made Otah’s slaughter bearable. He took away the reason for it. Galt is dying anyway.’
    ‘I also did it for Maati,’ Otah said. ‘If I hadn’t, he’d be fighting against Seedless today.’
    ‘And I wouldn’t have been born,’ Ana said. She put out a wavering hand to him, and Otah took it. Her grasp was stronger than he’d expected. There were tears in her milky eyes. ‘I won’t forgive him either.’
    Idaan sighed.
    ‘Well,’ his sister said, ‘at least we’ll be damned for what we are.’
    The second sang something from the bow, a high trill that ended in words Otah couldn’t make sense of. The paddle wheel, in the stern, shifted and creaked, the deck beneath him lurching. Otah stood, unsteadily.
    ‘Sandbar,’ Danat called to him. ‘It’s all right. We’re fine.’
    ‘Ah, well then. You see?’ Idaan said with a chuckle. ‘We’re fine.’
    They stayed on the river as long into the twilight as they could. Otah could see the unease in the boatman’s expression and hear it in his voice. Otah’s assumption was that the boats would travel at nearly the same