'I was talking with one of the footmen. The Galts came up the river from Yalakeht, and they left heading North on the road to Amnat-Tan. They're likely only a day or so ahead of us. It doesn't seem like they're interested in Tan-Sadar.'
'Why not?' Otah said, more than half to himself. 'It's the nearest city.,,
'Marshes,' a low voice said from behind them. The blacksmith, Saya, had come up behind them. 'There's decent roads between here and Amnat-Tan. And then the North Road between all the winter cities. Tan-Sadar's close, Most High. But there's two different rivers find their start in the marshes between here and there, and if their wagons are like the one they've left down there, they'll need roads.' The thick arms folded into a pose appropriate for an apprentice to his master. 'Come and see yourself, if you'd care to.'
The steam wagon was wider than a cart, its bed made of hard, oiled wood at the front, and sheeted with copper at the back. A coal furnace twice the size of a firekeeper's kiln stood around a steel boiling tank. Saya pointed out how the force of the steam drove the wheels, and how it might be controlled to turn slowly and with great force or else more swiftly. Otah remembered a model he'd seen as a boy in Saraykeht. An army of teapots, the Khai Saraykeht had called them. The world had always told them how it would be, how things would fall apart. They had all been deaf.
'It's heavy, though,' Saya said. 'And there's housings there at the front where you could yoke a team of oxen, but I wouldn't want to pull it through soft land.'
'Why would they ever pull it?' Nayiit asked. 'Why put all this into making it go on fire and then use oxen?'
'They might run out of coal,' Otah said.
'They might,' Saya agreed. 'But more likely, they don't want to rattle it badly. All this was a rounded chamber like an egg. Built to hold the pressure in. You can see how they leaved the seams. Something cracked that egg, and that's why this is all scrap now. Anyone who was nearby when it happened… well. Anything strong enough to make a wagon this heavy move in the first place, and then load it with men or supplies, and then keep it going fast enough to be worth doing… it'd be a lot to let loose at once.'
'How?' Otah said. 'How did they break it?'
Saya shrugged.
'Lucky shot with a hard crossbow, maybe. Or the heat came too high. I don't know how gentle these things are. Looking at this one, though, I'd like a nice smooth meadow or a well-made road. Nothing too rutted.'
'I can't believe they'd put men on this,' Nayiit said. 'A wagon that could kill everyone on it if it hits a had hump? Why would anyone ever do that?'
'Because the gain is worth the price,' Otah said. 'They think the men they lose from it are a good sacrifice for the power they get.'
Otah touched the twisted metal. The egg chamber had burst open like a flower bud blooming. The petals were bright and sharp and too thick for Otah to bend hare-handed. His mind felt perfectly awake, and his head felt full. It was as if he were thinking without yet knowing what he was thinking of. He squatted and looked at the wide, blackened door of the coal furnace.
'This is made of iron,' Otah said.
'Yes, Most High,' Saya agreed.
'But it doesn't melt. So however hot this runs, it can't be hotter than an ironworking forge, ne? How do they measure that, would you guess?'
Saya shrugged again.
'They're likely using soft coal, Most High. Use coal out of a Galt mine, it won't matter how much they put in it, it'll only come so hot. Forging iron needs hard coal. It's why the Galts buy their steel from Eddensea.'
'And how long would it take them to reach Amnat-Tan if they were using these?'
'I've no way to know, Most High,' Saya said taking a pose of apology. 'I've never seen one working.'
Otah nodded to himself. His head almost ached, but he could feel himself putting one thing with another like seeing fish moving below glass-clear ice.
'Otah-cha?' Nayiit said. 'What is it?'
Otah looked up, and was surprised to find himself grinning.
'Tell the men to rest until midday. We'll start hack to the main force after that.'
Nayiit took an accepting pose. But as they walked away, Otah saw him exchange confused glances with the blacksmith. Back at their little camp, Ashua Radaani was organizing a pile of books. He took a pose of greeting, but his expression was grim. Otah stood beside him, hands pulled into the sleeves of his robes, and considered the volumes.
'Phis is everything,' Radaani said. 'Fourteen hooks out of the greatest library in the world.'
Otah glanced at the mouth of the high offices. He tried to guess how much knowledge had been lost there, vanished from the world and never to been found again. Nayiit put a thick, dirty hand reverently on the stack before him.
'I can only read half of them,' Radaani said. 'The others are too old, I think. One or two from the First Empire.'
'We'll take them to Maati and Cehmai,' Otah said. 'Maybe they'll he of use.'
'We're going back to Machi?' Radaani said.
'Those who'd like to, yes. The rest will come with me to Cetani. I'm going to meet with the Khai Cetani. We'll have to hurry, though. The Gaits will he taking the long way, and sacking Amnat-Tan while they're at it. I hope that will give us the time we need.'
'You have a plan, Most High?' Radaani sounded dubious.
'Not yet,' Otah said. 'But when I do, it'll be better than my last one. I don't expect many men to follow me. A few will suffice. If they're loyal.'
'We could make for 'Ian-Sadar,' Radaani said. 'If it's allies we need, they're closer.'
'We don't, or at least not as badly as we need rough roads and an early winter.'
Radaani didn't show any sign of understanding the comment, he only took a pose of acceptance.
''T'hat does sounds more like Cetani, Most High. I'll have the men ready to go at midday.'
Otah took a pose that acknowledged Radaani's words and walked hack to the cart where Saya had found him. The wheat gruel had gone cold and sticky but it was still as sweet. In his mind, he was already on his way to Cetani. The road between Cetani and Machi wasn't one he had traveled often; he had kept to the South in the years he had been a courier, and the Khaiem had always been reluctant to meet one another, preferring to send envoys and girl children to wed. Nonetheless, he had traveled it. He was still trying to recall the details when Nayiit interrupted him.
'What are we going to do in Cetani, Most High?'
The boy's face was sharp and focused. Eager. Otah saw something of what he had been at that age. He knew the answer to Nayiit's question as soon as it was spoken, but still it took him a moment to bring himself to say it.
'You aren't coming, Nayiit-cha. I need you to see those books back to Maati.'
'Anyone can do that,' Nayiit said. 'I'll be of use to you. I've been through Cetani. I was there just weeks ago, when we were coming to Machi. I can-'
'You can't,' Otah said, and took the boy's hand. His son's hand. 'You called a retreat when no one had given the order. In the Old Empire, I'd have had to see you killed for that. I can't have you come now.'
The surprise on Nayiit's face was heartbreaking.
'You said it wasn't my fault,' he said.
'And it isn't. I would have called the retreat myself if you hadn't. What happened to our men, what happened here, to the Dai-kvo.. . none of that's yours to carry. If you'd done differently, it would have changed nothing. But there will be a next time, and I can't have someone calling commands who might do what you've done.'
Nayiit stepped hack, just out of his reach. Ah, Maati, Otah thought, what kind of son have we made, you and I?
'It won't,' Nayiit said. 'It won't happen again.'
'I know. I know it won't,' Otah said, making his tone gentle to soften hard words. 'Because you're going back to Machi.'
