them all."
"Of course they won't," Liat said, but the girl's eyes met hers and Liat
faltered. There was so much of Otah's cool distance in a face that
seemed too young to look on the world so dispassionately. She was like
her father, prepared to pass judgment on the gods themselves if the
situation called her to do it. Comfortable lies had no place with her.
Liat looked down. "I don't know," she said. "Perhaps there won't be."
"Here, now," the physician said. "Take this with you, Liat-cha. Pour it
into a bowl of water and once it's dissolved, drink the whole thing. It
will he bitter, so drink it fast. You'll likely want to lie down for a
hand or two afterward, to let it work. But it should do what needs doing."
Liat took the paper packet and slipped it into her sleeve before taking
a pose of gratitude.
"We should have a lunch in the gardens again," Eiah said. "You and Uncle
Nlaati and me. Loya-cha would come too, except he's a servant."
Liat felt herself blush, but the physician's wry smile told her it was
not the first such pronouncement he'd been subjected to.
"Perhaps you should wait for another day," he said. "Liat-cha had a
headache, remember."
"I know that," Eiah said impatiently. "I meant tomorrow."
"'T'hat would be lovely," Liat said. "I'll talk with Nlaati about it."
"Would you be so good as to get the stiff brushes from the back and wash
them for me, Eiah-cha?" the physician said. "Famiya's anxious to be done
with us, I'm sure."
Eiah dropped into a pose of confirmation for less than a breath before
darting off to her task. Liat watched the physician, the amusement and
fondness in his expression. He shook his head.
"She is a force," he said. "But the powder. I wanted to say, it can be
habit-forming. You shouldn't have it more than once in a week. So if the
pain returns, we may have to find another approach."
"I'm sure this will be fine," Liat said as she rose. "And ... thank you.
For what you've done with Eiah, I mean."
"She needs it," the man said with a shrug. "Her father's ridden off to
die, her mother and her friend the poet are too busy trying to keep us
all alive to take time to comfort her. She buries herself in this, and
so even if she slows us down, how can I do anything but welcome her?"
Liat felt her heart turn to lead. The physician's smile slipped, and for
a moment the dread showed from behind the mask. When he spoke again, it
was softly and the words were as gray as stones.
"And, after all, we may need our children to know how to care for the
dying before all that's coming is done."
MAAT1 RIBBED HIS EYES wlTH THE PALMS OF HIS HANDS, SQUINTED, blinked.
The world was blurry: the long, rich green of the grass on which they
lay was like a single sheet of dyed rice paper; the towers of Machi were
reduced to dark blurs that the blue of the sky shone through. It was
like fog without the grayness. He blinked again, and the world moved
nearer to focus.
"How long was I sleeping?" he asked.
"Long enough, sweet," Liat said. "I could have managed longer, I think.