low. "I want Papa-kya-"

"It's all right," Otah said. "I'm not so tired I can't tell my own boy a

story."

Kiyan smiled at him, her eyes amused and apologetic both. I tried to

spare you.

"Once, hack before the Empire, when the world was very new," Otah said,

then paused. "There, ah. There was a goat."

The goat-whose name was coincidentally also Danat-went on to meet a

variety of magical creatures and have long, circuitous conversations to

no apparent point or end until Utah saw his son's eyes shut and his

breath grow deep and steady. Kiyan rose and silently snuffed all but the

night candle. The room filled with the scent of spent wicks. Otah let go

of his son's hand and quietly pulled the netting closed. In the

near-darkness, Danat's eyelids seemed darker, smudged with kohl. His

skin was smooth and brown as eggshell. Kiyan touched Otah's shoulder and

motioned with her gaze to the door. He laced his fingers in hers and

together they walked to the hallway.

The physician's assistant sat on a low stool, a howl of rice and fish in

his hands.

"I will be here for the night, Most High," the assistant said as Otah

paused before him. "My teacher expects that the boy will sleep soundly,

but if he wakes, I will be here."

Otah took a pose expressing gratitude. It was a humbling thing for a

Khai to do before a servant, even one as skilled as this. The

physician's assistant bowed deeply in response. The walk to their own

rooms was a short one-down one hallway, up a wide flight of stairs

worked in marble and silver, and then the gauntlet of their own

servants. The evening's meal was set out for them-quail glazed with pork

fat and honey, pale bread with herbed butter, fresh trout, iced apples.

More food than any two people could eat.

"It isn't in his chest," Kiyan said as she lifted the trout's pale flesh

from delicate, translucent bones. "His color is always good. His lips

never blue at all. The physician didn't hear any water when he breathes,

and he can blow up a pig's bladder as well as I could."

"And all that's good?" Otah said. "He can't run across a room without

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.

"What about the one from the Dancer's Court?" Liat said. "The one with

the stories about the half-Bakta boy who intrigued for the Emperor.

Maati pursed his lips.

""They're a bit bloody, some of them," he said.

"Danat's a boy. He'll love them. Besides, you read them to Nayiit

without any lasting damage," Liat said. "Those and the green hook. The

one that was all political allegories where people turned into light or

sank into the ground."

"The Silk Hunter's Dreams," Maati said. "That's a thought. I have a copy

of that one too, where I can put my hand on it. Only, Otah-kvo, don't

tell him the one with the crocodile. Nayiit-kya wouldn't sleep for days

after I told him that one."

"I'll trust you," Otah said.

"Wait," Maati said, and with a grunt he pulled himself to standing. "You

two stay here. I'll be back with it in three heartbeats."

An uncomfortable silence fell on Otah and Liat. Otah turned to consider

Eiah's sleeping face. Liat shifted in her chair.

"She's a lovely girl," Liat said softly. "We spent the day together, the

three of us, and I was sure she'd wear us thin by the end of it. Still,

we're the ones that lasted longest, eh?"

"She doesn't have a head for wine yet," Otah said.