Seasons of War

taken over from her father, years ago in Udun. He was in her common room, listening to a flute player fumble through old tunes that everyone knew, and wondering if the lovely fox-faced woman serving the wine had meant to touch his hand when she poured. From such small things are lives constructed. Something of his thought must have shown in his face, because her features softened and something near a blush touched her cheeks as Eiah lowered herself to a couch and collapsed. He noticed that her usual array of rings and jewels were gone; but for the quality of her robe, she could have been a merchant’s daughter.
    ‘You look spent, Eiah-kya,’ Otah said. Then, to Kiyan, ‘What’s she been doing? Carrying stones up the towers? And what’s happened to jewelry?’
    ‘Physicians don’t wear metalwork,’ she said, as if he’d asked something profoundly stupid. ‘Blood gets caught in the settings.’
    ‘She’s been with them all day,’ Kiyan said.
    ‘We had a boy come in with a crushed arm,’ Eiah said, her eyes closed. ‘It was all bloody and the skin scraped off. It looked like something from a butcher’s stall. I could see his knuckle bones. Dorin-cha cleaned it up and wrapped it. We’ll know in a couple days whether he’ll have to have it off.’
    ‘ We’ll know?’ Otah asked. ‘They’re having you decide the fate of men’s elbows?’
    He saw a dark glitter where his daughter’s eyes cracked just slightly open. ‘Dorin-cha will tell me, and then we’ll both know.’
    ‘She’s been quite the asset, they say,’ Kiyan said. ‘The matrons keep trying to send her away, and she keeps coming back. They tell her it’s unseemly for her to be there, but the physicians seem flattered that she’s interested.’
    ‘I like it,’ Eiah said, her voice slurring. ‘I don’t want to stop. I want to help.’
    ‘You don’t have to stop,’ Otah said. ‘I’ll see to it.’
    ‘Thank you, Papa-kya,’ Eiah murmured.
    ‘Off to your bed,’ Kiyan said, gently shaking Eiah’s knee. ‘You’re already half-dreaming.’
    Eiah frowned and grunted, but then came to her feet. She stumbled over to Otah, genuine exhaustion competing with the theatrics of being tired, and threw her arms around his neck. Her hair smelled of the vinegar the physicians used to wash down their slate tables. He put his arms around her. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes. His baby girl, his daughter. He would see her tomorrow, and then he would march out into the gods only knew what.
    Tomorrow, he told himself, I will see her again tomorrow. This won’t be the last time. Not yet. He kissed her forehead and let her go.
    Eiah tottered to her mother for another kiss, another hug, and then they were alone. Kiyan gently plucked the papers from his hands and put them back on the desk.
    ‘I’m not certain that worked as a punishment,’ Otah said. ‘We’re halfway to raising a physician.’
    ‘It lets her feel she’s useful,’ Kiyan said as she pulled him to the couch. He sat at her side. ‘It’s normal for her to want to feel she’s in control of something. And she isn’t squeamish. I’ll hand her that much.’
    ‘I hope feeling useful is enough,’ Otah said. ‘She’s got her own will, and I don’t think she’d be past following it over a cliff if it led her there.’
    He saw Kiyan read his deeper meaning. I hope we are all still here to worry about it .
    ‘We do as well by them as we can, love,’ she said.
    ‘I think about Idaan,’ Otah said.
    Kiyan took his hand.
    ‘Eiah isn’t your sister. She isn’t going to do the things she did,’ she said. ‘And more to the point, you aren’t your father.’
    For a moment, he was consumed by memories: the father he had met only once, the sister who had engineered the old man’s murder. Hatred and violence and ambition had destroyed his family once. He supposed it was inevitable that he should fear it happening again. Otah raised Kiyan’s hand to his lips, and then sighed.
    ‘I have to go to Danat. I haven’t seen him yet. Go with me?’
    ‘He’s asleep already, love. We stopped in on our way here. He won’t wake before morning. And you’ll have to find different stories to read to him next time. Everything you left there, he’s read to himself. Our boy’s going to grow up a scholar at this rate.’
    Otah nodded, pushing aside a moment’s guilt over the relief he felt. Seeing Danat was one less thing, even if it was more important than most of the