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