moth that had lighted on the back of her hand. Her face was such a clear
mix of her parents-Kiyan's high cheeks, Otah's dark eyes and easy smile.
Maati took a pose of greeting as he walked up, and when Eiah moved to
reply, the moth took wing, chuffing softly through the air and away. In
flight, the wings that had been simple brown shone black and orange.
"Athai's gone then?" she asked as Maati unlocked the doors to his
apartments.
"He's likely just over the bridge by now."
Maati stepped in, Eiah following him without asking or being asked. It
was a wide room, not so grand as the palaces or so comfortable as the
poet's house. A librarian's room, ink blocks stacked beside a low desk,
chairs with wine-stained cloth on the arms and hack, a small bronze
brazier dusted with old ash. Maati waved Eiah off as she started to
close the door.
"Let the place air out a bit," he said. "It's warm enough for it now.
And what's your day been, Eiah-kya?"
"Father," she said. "He was in a mood to have a family, so I had to stay
in the palaces all morning. He fell asleep after midday, and Mother said
I could leave."
"I'm surprised. I wasn't under the impression Otah slept anymore. He
always seems hip-deep in running the city."
Eiah shrugged, neither agreeing nor voicing her denial. She paced the
length of the room, squinting out the door at nothing. Maati folded his
hands together on his belly, considering her.
"Something's bothering you," he said.
The girl shook her head, but the frown deepened. Maati waited until,
with a quick, birdlike motion, Eiah turned to face him. She began to
speak, stopped, and gathered herself visibly.
"I want to be married," she said.
Maati blinked, coughed to give himself a moment to think, and leaned
forward in his chair. The wood and cloth creaked slightly beneath him.
Eiah stood, her arms crossed, her gaze on him in something almost like
accusation.
"Who is the boy?" Maati said, regretting the word boy as soon as it left
his mouth. If they were speaking of marriage, the least he could do was
say man. But Eiah's impatient snort dismissed the question.
"I don't know," she said. "Whoever."
"Anyone would do?"
"Not just anyone. I don't want to be tied to some low town firekeeper. I
want someone good. And I should be able to. Father doesn't have any
other daughters, and I know people have talked with him. But nothing
ever happens. How long am I supposed to wait?"
hlaati rubbed a palm across his cheeks. This was hardly a conversation
he'd imagined himself having. He turned through half a hundred things he
might say, approaches he might take, and felt a blush rising in his cheeks.
"You're voting, Eiah-kya. I mean ... I suppose it's natural enough for a
young woman to ... he interested in men. Your body is changing, and if I
recall the age, there are certain feelings that it's ..."
Eiah looked at him as if he'd coughed up a rat.