Read Online Seasons of War by Daniel Abraham - Free Book Online

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 floor 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 back into the soft, enfolding bed. His weight pressed out the scent of crushed rose petals. Eyes closed, he felt Kiyan shift, the familiar warmth and weight of her body resting against him. She kissed his temple.
    ‘Our friend from the Dai-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 Westlands 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.
    ‘I 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 back then. Up before the clients, cooking sausages and barley. Cleaning the rooms during the day. He and Old Mani would take care of the evenings, though. They wanted to sell as much wine as they could, but they didn’t want a girl my age around drunken travelers. I thought they were being so unfair.’
    Kiyan pursed her lips.
    ‘But maybe I’ve told that story already,’ she said.
    ‘Once or twice,’ Otah agreed.
    ‘There was a time I didn’t worry about the whole world and everything in it, you know. I remember that there was. It doesn’t make sense to me. One bad season, an illness, a fire - anything, really, and I could have lost the wayhouse. But now here I am, highest of the Khaiem, a whole city that will bend itself in half to hand me whatever it thinks I want, and the world seems more fragile.’
    ‘We got old,’ Otah said. ‘It’s always the ones who’ve seen the most who think the world’s on the edge of collapse, isn’t it? And we’ve seen more than most.’
    Kiyan shook her head.
    ‘It’s