the fine-spun wool of his robes.
"For one thing, you haven't hauled a crate for your living in thirty
summers.
""Twenty-five," he said, leaning back into the soft pressure of her
hands. ""Twenty-six now."
"For another, you've hardly done nothing. As I recall, you were awake
before the sun rose."
Otah considered the sleeping chamber-the domed ceiling worked in silver,
the wood and bone inlay of the floors and walls, the rich gold netting
that draped the bed, the still, somber flame of the lantern. The east
wall was stone-pink granite thin as eggshell that glowed when the sun
struck it. He couldn't recall how long it had been since he'd woken to
see that light. Last summer, perhaps, when the nights were shorter. He
closed his eyes and lay hack into the soft, enfolding bed. His weight
pressed out the scent of crushed rose petals. Hayes closed, he felt
Kiyan shift, the familiar warmth and weight of her body resting against
him. She kissed his temple.
"Our friend from the I)ai-kvo will finally leave soon. A message came
recalling him," Otah said. "That was a bright moment. Though the gods
only know what kept him here so long. Sinja's likely halfway to the
VVestlands by now."
"The envoy stayed for Maati's work," Kiyan said. "Apparently he hardly
left the library these last weeks. Eiah's been keeping me informed."
"Well, the gods and Eiah, then," Otah said.
"I'm worried about her. She's brooding about something. Can you speak
with her?"
Dread touched Otah's belly, and a moment's resentment. It had been such
a long day, and here waiting for him like a stalking cat was another
problem, another need he was expected to meet. The thought must have
expressed itself in his body, because Kiyan sighed and rolled just
slightly away.
"You think it's wrong of me," Kiyan said.
"Not wrong," Otah said. "Unnecessary isn't wrong."
"I know. At her age, you were living on the streets in the summer
cities, stealing pigeons off firekeeper's kilns and sleeping in alleys.
And you came through just fine."
"Oh," Otah said. "Have I told that story already?"
"Once or twice," she said, laughing gently. "It's just that she seems so
distant. I think there's something bothering her that she won't say. And
then I wonder whether it's only that she won't say it to me."
"And why would she talk to me if she won't she talk to you?"
When he felt Kiyan shrug, Otah opened his eyes and rolled to his side.
"There were tears shining in his lover's eyes, but her expression was
more amused than sorrowful. He touched her cheek with his fingertips,
and she kissed his palm absently.
"1 don't know. Because you're her father, and I'm only her mother? It
was just ... a hope. The problem is that she's half a woman," Kiyan
said. "When the sun's up, I know that. I remember when I was that age.
My father had me running half of his wayhouse, or that's how it felt