coughing until his head aches."
"All that's better than the alternative," Kiyan said. "They don't know
what it is. They give him teas that make him sleep, and hope that his
body's wise enough to mend itself."
""Phis has been going on too long. It's been almost a year since he was
really well."
"I know it," Kiyan said, and the weariness in her voice checked Otah's
frustration. "Really, love, I'm quite clear."
"I'm sorry, Kiyan-kya," he said. "It's just ..."
He shook his head.
"Hard feeling powerless?" she said gently. Otah nodded. Kiyan sighed
softly, a sympathy for his pain. Then, "Agoat?"
"It was what came to mind."
After the meal, after their hands had been washed for them in silver
howls, after Otah had suffered yet another change of robes, Kiyan kissed
him and retreated to her rooms. Otah stepped down from his palace,
instructed the retinue of servants that he wished to be left alone, and
made his way west, toward the library. The sun had long since slipped
behind the mountains, but the sky remained a bright gray, the clouds
touched with rose and gold. Spring would soon give way to summer, the
long, bright days and brief nights. Still, it was not so early in the
season that lanterns didn't glow from the windows that he passed. Stars
glittered in the east as the night rose. The library itself was dark,
but candles burned in Maati's apartments, and Otah made his way down the
path.
Voices came to him, raised in laughter. A man's and a woman's, and both
familiar as memory. They sat on chairs set close together. In the yellow
candlelight, Maati's cheeks looked rosy. Liat's hair had escaped its
bun, locks of it tumbling across her brow, down the curve of her neck.
The air smelled of mulling spices and wine, and Eiah lay on a couch, one
long, thin arm cast over her eyes. Liat's eyes went wide when she caught
sight of him, and Maati turned toward the door to see what had startled her.
"Otah-kvo!" he said, waving him forward. "Come in. Come in. It's my
fault. I've kept your daughter too long. I should have sent her home
sooner. I wasn't thinking."
"Not at all," Otah said, stepping in. "I've come for your help actually."
Maati took a pose of query. His hands were not perfectly steady, and
Liat stifled a giggle. Both of them were more than a little drunk. A
howl of warmed wine sat on the edge of the brazier, a silver serving cup
hooked to the rim. Otah glanced at it, and Maati waved him on. There
were no bowls, so Otah drank from the serving cup.
"What can I do, Most High?" Maati asked with a grin that was for the
most part friendly.
"I need a book. Something with children's stories in it. Fables, or
light epics. History, if it's well enough written. Danat's asking me to
tell stories, and I don't really know any."
Liat chuckled and shook her head, but Maati nodded in understanding.
Otah sat beside his sleeping daughter while Maati considered. The wine
was rich and deep, and the spices alone made Otah's head swim a little.