In the Labyrinth of Drakes by Marie Brennan

that.”
    I searched for something to say that would not sound inane, and failed. “Your family seems to be doing well now.”
    â€œWell enough.” He reached out and touched one of the eucalyptus leaves, tugged it free and inhaled its clean scent. “Husam has kept me busy seeing to business matters, mostly here in Qurrat, while he goes to the caliph’s court. Until he sent me to the desert, that is.”
    I could not repress the urge to ask, “How many months ago was this?”
    His smile was ironic. “Not long before your predecessor left.”
    Meaning the sheikh had probably learned of Lord Tavenor’s impending departure, and the likelihood of me coming in his place—or if not me, then at least Tom, who was thoroughly tainted by association. But I could not say that, and so I turned to what I thought would be a lighter topic. “What have you been doing in the desert? Seeking out Draconean ruins?”
    It was the wrong thing to ask. Suhail’s expression became shuttered. “No. Fighting the Banu Safr. One of the rebellious tribes.”
    The phrase meant nothing to me at the time, and I did not pursue it; Akhian politics were not what interested me just then. “I am sorry. I hope there has not been much bloodshed.”
    â€œNot until recently.”
    I thought of the bad news that Suhail had brought with him on his first arrival, and felt sick at heart.
    â€œWhat of you, though?” Suhail asked, with the air of a man making an effort to be less grim. “It seems you have done well.”
    I gave him an abbreviated version of the events that had brought Tom and myself to Akhia, and spent a pleasant moment in tales of Jake’s exploits at Suntley. Suhail seemed more like himself as I went on, and even laughed at an incident involving the school fish-pond. He was the one, after all, who had taught my son to improve his swimming—though I doubted he had intended it to be put to such ends.
    But I recognized the look in Suhail’s eyes. I had seen it in the mirror for two long years when I was growing up: the period I referred to as the “grey years” in the first volume of my memoirs. For the sake of my family, I had sworn off my interest in dragons, and the lack of it had leached all colour from my life. As it happened, my good behaviour was ultimately rewarded, and I did not regret the path I had taken to my present point. Suhail, on the other hand …
    I could not say this to him. I knew too little of his situation; it would be the height of arrogance for me to barge in, thinking I knew what was best for him simply because I had once experienced a similar thing. Perhaps a marriage was being arranged for him, with a wife of good family who would not mind her husband gallivanting off to study ancient ruins. Or perhaps Suhail did not begrudge his brother the aid their tribe required. His circumstances might be of limited duration, a thing for him to endure for a little while before returning to the life he loved. All of these might be possible—and none of them were my business.
    One thing was my business, though, and it had been tucked into my sleeve since that first encounter in the courtyard, waiting for the moment when I might deliver it. And if it brought a spot of colour into Suhail’s own grey years, that would ease my mind a great deal.
    I pulled the paper loose from my sleeve and tried to smooth it out into a more respectable-looking packet. “Here. This is for you.” When Suhail eyed it warily, I said, “It is nothing inappropriate. You could post it in the town square and no one would think anything of it.” Indeed, most of them would have no idea what it was.
    He took the paper and unfolded it the rest of the way. This took a fair bit of unfolding; it was thin tissue, and quite a large piece when stretched to its full extent. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mahira watching in curiosity, and not