“Kirana isn’t going to die,” Ahkio said. Of the two surviving children of the former Kai, Kirana was the one who could channel the power of the satellites. When Tira was ascendant, she could heal the blind and coax a morning star vine to become a sturdy ship’s rigging. The rest of the time, she excelled at talking down disputes among bitter clan-rivals and managing trade negotiations with the Aaldians and Tordinians to the south.

Ahkio taught ethics to the children of shepherds.

Nasaka exhaled more sweet-smelling smoke. It was a foreign blend of cloves, purple hasaen flowers, and Tordinian tobacco, a spicy, not unpleasant scent that clung to the woman night and day: a smell uniquely Nasaka. It put Ahkio in mind of the temples, and another burning, a long time ago.

“I hoped you would marry,” Nasaka said, “a good strong Osono girl or two. It was why I permitted you to leave the temple.”

“Kirana married, and see how happily that turned out. You never got your heirs from her and what’s-his-name.”

“And look where we are because of that. I have a dying Kai and only her weak, irresponsible brother to tap for the seat.”

“My life is here,” Ahkio said. He looked into the dim yard. The moons were rising. “I’ve kept house with Meyna and her husbands–”

“Oh, Meyna this, Meyna that,” Nasaka said, and her tone let Ahkio know the low regard she held for her.

“Don’t speak ill of Meyna in her own house.”

“I need you at the temple tonight,” Nasaka said. “Clan Leader Saurika has someone prepared to take over your classes.”

Ahkio thought about telling her no. He thought about running off into the sheep fields. But telling Nasaka no never ended well. He knew that as well as anyone.

“Is she really dying?”

“I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

“Who did it, Nasaka?”

“It’s some illness.”

“Then call some sensitive tirajista who can still channel Tira in decline, and she’ll fix it. Don’t take me for a fool.”

Nasaka sucked at the end of her pipe. The silence stretched. Then, “Whatever her illness, it can’t be cured. It’s gotten worse, Ahkio. I’m sorry. I don’t know how much time she has, and I want you to sit with her before the end.”

Ahkio pressed his hands to his eyes. Took a deep breath. “Was it Tir’s family?” he asked. “Rhin and Hadaoh’s father?”

“I suggest you pack your things and come with me,” Nasaka said. “If it was, then this house is no longer safe for you.”

Ahkio turned away from her. He went back around the house to where his kin had gathered. He could not still his hands. Politics had caught up with him, years after he thought all those terrible days were dead and burned.