Every day Padrigan sat in the sweatroom in a breechcloth, poured a little white wine into an antimony cup, and waited for the antimony to turn the wine into poison. This took a full night.

On the first day he did this, he said, “There are tiny eggs growing inside you. We need to kill them.”

“Will a worm come out of my foot?” Tau-indi was terrified of the worm parasites.

“No, no, not unless you drank water from down in Mzilimake or Devi-naga, and where would you get that kind of water?” Padrigan scooped up Tau-indi and helped them drink the poison wine. “Your father might send you Mzilimake water, hm? Your father the explorer?”

“My father never sends anything,” Tau-indi muttered, and noticed, even in their sickness, that Padrigan was secretly glad of this. Padrigan didn’t want Tahr’s husband to ever come home.

The wine was sweet and sharp. Tau-indi drank it in slow sips until the antimony made them throw up, gushing spring water and sweet potato, gagging, miserable. Padrigan held their hair back until they were done. “We’ll do this every morning. Rinse your mouth.”

The fever got worse. Much worse. Abdumasi showed up to talk about his kittens and his money work, but as he spoke, his hands balled and twisted. Guilt! He was guilty!

“Tell me what you’re doing.” Tau-indi had to rasp through an acid-ravaged throat. “Tell me what you’re up to.”

“I flew a kite. Hey, I won a bet! My oldest kitten killed two pigeons in one leap.”

“No. Tell me the truth”

Abdumasi wouldn’t answer, he wouldn’t say what Tau already knew: yes, Tau-indi, it’s true, it’s true, she and I are going on without you. You will never be a part of us. You were born alone and alone you will always remain.

Kindalana came too, as if drawn by the curl of trim between her and Abdumasi. She read from a beginner’s text in Uburu.

“You want me to learn?” Tau-indi moaned.

“Of course. I’ve finally got you in a place to listen.” She refused to look up. The wedge of skin between her brows held worried furrows.

“Please take care of Abdumasi,” Tau-indi said, in spite. “I’ll be fine.”

“Oh. Abdu.” Kindalana turned the page. “He’s going to Jaro to learn barter. I don’t see much of him.”

I’m sure you don’t, Tau-indi thought.

After a long wet time balled up inside sweaty blankets with their nose full of the stink of vomit, Tau-indi looked up to see Padrigan’s eyes all red and wet. Why was Padrigan here? It wasn’t time for antimony wine. And why oh why was there white ash on his brow? Why was Padrigan grieving? Had something happened to Kindalana?

The man said: “Are you lucid, manata?”

Manata. Beloved friend. “I’m here, Abdumasi,” Tau-indi said, for the word had blurred Padrigan and Abdumasi together.