…

After dark, Niku came back. I neither felt like going to the campfires, or inside my tent where I’d be closer to Kallijas, so I had Iperaiga light the pair of glass-globed standing torches I’d spotted when we’d overrun the Arkan camp, and did more semanakraseyeni work. You can disappear your troubles in wine or Arkanherb or sex or company; at least if you do it in work, work gets done.

Dear Piatsri:

I almost don’t know how to begin writing. Why is my life never simple? By tying myself to Chevenga, have I climbed onto the back of a dragon? I can’t even write Merao about this, because it’s her nation and her semanakraseye.

Niku and I did the same thing as one: reached for the baby saying “Shh shh, Vriah-ria, it’s all right!” Since she was closer, she got there to seize her up first. If anything, the next cry was louder. All-Spirit, I thought, how must life be for this child, when her sources of sustenance themselves are sources of distress? “I am probably feeling less than you,” I said. “Let me try.” She passed her to me wordlessly, and I said,

My body leapt up out of bed almost of its own accord. “She said you’d know her,” Sish said as I blew past her.

I went flat out all the way, almost leaving behind the sentry who was showing me the way, while Sish nipped at my heals, saying, “Cheng, shouldn’t you put on something more than a marya? Sword and wristlets, perhaps?”