The Killing Moon by Jemisin N. K

Author:Jemisin, N. K. [Jemisin, N. K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction & Fantasy, Fiction, Romance, Science Fiction, Literature & Fiction, Adult, Fantasy, Epic
ISBN: 9780356500768
Amazon: 0356500764
Goodreads: 11774272
Publisher: Hachette Book Group
Published: 2012-05-01T07:00:00+00:00

Ehiru resumed his fallen aristocrat’s guise and found Gehanu in her tent. “Have you any eathir root, mistress? In some lands they call it ghete.”

Gehanu paused in the middle of chewing some sort of spiced meat on a skewer. Village women had come among the minstrel band during the unpacking, selling food and drink. “You planning to put someone to sleep?”

Ehiru smiled and touched his own torso, just below his rib cage. “Ghete can ease spasms here. It sometimes stops a cough.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Ah. For Talithele, che?”

“Is that the name of your elder? Yes, mistress.”

“You don’t look like a healer.”

“There are healers in my family, mistress. Some even serve the Hetawa in Gujaareh. I picked up a few tricks.”

“Mmm. Hold on. Kanek!” Her bellow almost caught Ehiru by surprise, but he had grown used to the woman’s rough mannerisms over the past few days. There was a shuffle outside and then Kanek poked his head into the tent, scowling. “Go find the village headman and ask for ghete root,” Gehanu told him.

“Ghete? Palm wine tastes better, Mother.”

“Just do it, you disrespectful shiffa.” She glared until the boy disappeared. They heard his grumbles as his footsteps faded.

“Thank you, mistress.” Ehiru flattened both his hands and bowed over them.

“Ete sowu-sowu.” Ehiru thought the language might have been Penko, but he could not be certain. Her Gujaareen was fluent, at least, though she tended to speak too fast; it took time for him to sift out the words from her accent. “If you can make Talithele more comfortable, it will be worth getting in debt with the greedy old bastard who runs this town.” She set down the skewer and rummaged among her robes for a moment, finally coming up with a long pipe. She raised her voice again. “And an ember from the fire!” A faint annoyed sound was the only reply.

Ehiru smiled. “It’s good to have dependable sons.”

“Ah-che. Like that boy of yours, hmm? I see him hovering always, making sure no one bothers you much, taking care of problems before you notice.” She did not see Ehiru’s look of surprise as she rummaged again and came up with dried leaves, which she began to pack into the pipe. “If only my sons were as clever and thoughtful. Though of course Niri isn’t your son.” She glanced up at him, her big southerner eyes bright and sharp.

“No, mistress, he is not.”

She grunted and bit another piece of meat off the skewer. “Bed-warmer?”

Ehiru smiled at the notion. “Protégé. I’m teaching him about life.”

Gehanu grunted in amusement. “And he listens? Motro sani’i—a miracle to amaze even the gods.”

“He listens when it suits him.” Ehiru smiled. “Young men.”

“Mmm. Too young for sense, too old to beat. But young women are worse, trust me. Three daughters back home, along with my other three sons. Should probably beat my husband for inflicting all of them on me, but he’s pretty and he doesn’t eat much, so I keep him around.” She cocked her head, examining him.

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