The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms - By N. K. Jemisin Page 0,96

meant to be spoken by mortals, but I had a goddesss soul. That had to be good for something.

Atadie, I whispered, and the wall opened up.

I went through two dead spaces before finding Siehs orrery. As the wall closed behind me, I looked around and noticed that the place looked starkly bare compared to the last time Id seen it. Several dozen or so of the colored spheres lay scattered on the floor, unmoving, a few showing cracks or missing chunks. Only a handful floated in their usual places. The yellow ball was nowhere to be seen.

Beyond the spheres, Sieh lay on a gently curved hump of palace-stuff, with Zhakkarn crouched beside him. Sieh was younger than I had seen him in the arena, but still too old: long-legged and lanky, he must have been somewhere in late adolescence. Zhakkarn, to my surprise, had removed her headkerchief; her hair lay in close-curled, flattened ringlets about her head. Rather like mine, except that it was blue-white in color.

They were both staring at me. I crouched beside them, setting down the chest. Are you all right? I asked Sieh.

Sieh struggled to sit up, but I could see in his movements how weak he was. I moved to help, but Zhakkarn had him, bracing his back with one big hand. Amazing, Yeine, Sieh said. You opened the walls by yourself? Im impressed.

Can I help you? I asked. Somehow?

Play with me.

Play But I trailed off as Zhakkarn caught my eye with a stern look. I thought a moment, then stretched out my hands, palms up. Put your hands over mine.

He did so. His hands were larger than mine, and they shook like an old mans. So much wrongness. But he grinned. Think youre fast enough?

I slapped at his hands, and scored. He moved so slowly that I couldve recited a poem in the process. Apparently I am.

Beginners luck. Lets see you do it again. I slapped at his hands again. He moved faster this time; I almost missed. Ha! All right, third times the charm. I slapped again, and this time did miss.

Surprised, I looked up at him. He grinned, visibly younger, though not by much. A year, perhaps. See? I told you. Youre slow.

I could not help smiling as I understood. Do you think you might be up for tag?

It was midnight. My body wanted sleep, not games, which made me sluggish. That worked in Siehs favor, especially once he recovered enough to actually run. Then he chased me all over the chamber, amusing himself since I presented very little real challenge. It was doing him such noticeable good that I kept at it until he finally called a halt and we both flopped on the floor, panting. He looked, at last, normala spindly boy of nine or ten, beautiful and carefree. I no longer questioned why I loved him.

Well, that was fun, Sieh said at last. He sat up, stretched, and began beckoning the dead spheres to himself. They rolled across the floor to him, where he picked them up, petted them fondly, then lifted them into the air, giving each a practiced twist before releasing it to float away. So whats in the chest?

I glanced at Zhakkarn, who had not joined in our play. I suspected childrens games did not mesh well with the essence of battle. She nodded to me once, and this time it was approving. I flushed and looked away.

Letters, I said, putting my hand on my mothers chest. They are I hesitated, inexplicably reticent. My fathers letters to my mother, and some unsent drafts from her to him. I think I swallowed. My throat was suddenly tight, and my eyes stung. There is no logic to grief.

Sieh ignored me, brushing my hand out of the way before opening the chest. I regained my composure while he took out each letter, skimmed it, and laid it on the ground, eventually standing up to enlarge the pattern. I had no idea what he was doing as he finally set the last letter into the corner of a great square some five paces by five, with a smaller square off to the side for my mothers letters. Then he stood and folded his arms to stare down at the whole mess.

There are some missing, said Zhakkarn. I started to find her looming behind me, gazing down at the pattern as well.

Puzzled, I went to look myself, but could not read either my mothers fine script or my fathers more sprawling