After a day of fitful limbs and an uncertain stomach, Kigal’s queasiness mostly left her by nightfall. Her knees were still weak, and it was a challenge to hold her head up, but she could do it. The sweat had dried to leave a salty film on her, but at least she was no longer vomiting. No longer was she hungry, either. A strange wistfulness picked at her as she thought of fresh bread, its scent hot and rich with warm flour and butter, but it was now a want instead of a need.
With her back resting against the huluppu tree, she toyed with the collection of vials she’d been given, unstoppering each to give it a whiff, rolling them between her palms to watch the oils inside dance on the glass. Each one was unique. Some had been perfumed with myrrh and cedarwood and juniper, some languorously t
