Seasons of War

said. ‘You can’t know what will happen if you pit your andat against hers.’
    ‘I won’t have to,’ Eiah said. ‘I’ve thought this through, Papa-kya. I know what I’m doing. There was another section. It was almost square with one corner missing. Can anyone see that?’
    ‘Check the satchel,’ Idaan said as Otah plucked the piece from the hem of Eiah’s robe. He pressed it into her hand. Her fingertips traced its surface before she placed it at the bottom of the second almost-formed tablet. Her smile was gentler than he’d seen from her since he’d walked into the wayhouse. He touched her cheek.
    ‘Maati doesn’t know you’re doing this, then?’ Otah asked.
    ‘We didn’t think we’d ask him,’ Idaan said. ‘No disrespect to Eiah-cha, but that man’s about half again as cracked as his poet.’
    ‘No, he isn’t mad,’ Eiah said, her hands never slowing their dance across the face of the broken tablets. ‘He’s just not equal to the task he set himself. He always meant well.’
    ‘And I’m sure the two dozen remaining Galts will feel better because of it,’ Idaan said acidly. And then, in a gentler voice, ‘It doesn’t matter what story you tell yourself, you know. We’ve done what we’ve done.’
    ‘I wish you would stop that,’ Eiah said.
    Idaan’s surprise was clear on her face, and apparently in her silence as well. Eiah shook her head and went on, her tone damning and conversational.
    ‘Every third thing you say is an oblique reference to killing my grandfather. We all know you did the thing, and we all know you regret it. None of this is anything to do with that. Papa-kya and Maati love each other and they hate each other, and it doesn’t pertain either. Maati’s overwhelmed by the consequences of misjudging Vanjit, and he might not be if he weren’t hauling Nayiit and Sterile and Seedless along behind him.’
    Idaan looked like she’d been slapped. The armsmen were crowded so close, Otah could hear the low flutter of the torches burning, but the men pretended not to have heard.
    ‘The past doesn’t matter,’ Eiah said. ‘A hundred years ago or last night, it’s all just as gone. I have a binding to work, and I’d like to make the attempt before Vanjit blinds Maati and walks him off something tall. I think we have something like half a hand.’
    They worked together in silence, three pairs of hands putting the wax into place quickly. There were still sections missing, and some parts of the tablets were shattered so thoroughly that Eiah’s markings were all but lost. His daughter passed her fingertips slowly over each of the surfaces, her brow furrowed, her lips moving as if reciting something under her breath. Whether it was the binding or a prayer, Otah couldn’t guess.
    Idaan leaned close to Otah, her breath a warm and whispering breeze against his ear.
    ‘She takes the tact from her mother’s side, I assume?’
    His tension and fear gave the words a hilarity they didn’t deserve, and he fought to contain his laughter. The quay was dark around them; the torches kept his eyes from adapting to the darkness. It was as if the world had narrowed to a few feet of lichen-slicked flagstone, a single unshuttered window in the distance, and countless, endless, unnumbered stars.
    ‘All right,’ Eiah said. ‘I can’t be disturbed while I do this. If we could have the armsmen set up a guard formation? It would be in keeping with my luck to have a stray boar stumble into us at the wrong moment.’
    The captain didn’t wait for Otah’s approval. The men shifted, Idaan and Danat with them. Only Otah stayed. As if she saw him there, Eiah took a querying pose.
    ‘You may die from this,’ he said.
    ‘I’m aware of it,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t matter. I have to try. And I think you have to let me.’
    ‘I do,’ Otah agreed. Smiling, she looked young.
    ‘I love you too, Papa-kya.’
    ‘May I sit with you?’ he asked. ‘I don’t want to distract you, but it would be a favor.’
    He brushed the back of her hand with his fingertips. She took him by the sleeve of his robe and pulled him down to sit beside her. The fingers of her left hand laced with his right. For a moment, the only sounds were the gentle lapping of the river against the stone, the diminished hush of torch fire, the cooing of owls. Eiah leaned forward, her fingertips on the first tablet. Otah let go, and both of her hands caressed the wax. She began to chant.
    The words were only words. He