"Merciful Lord! You nearly frightened me out of my wits!" He held his chest and exhaled strongly.

"I'm sorry, son, I didn't mean to frighten you."

"Of course, Mother. It's just-unexpected, to see you here."

Neema wrung her hands nervously, a small tic twitching at her cheek. "I know, and I wouldn't bother you, but...."

"Mother," Makedde said, slightly chiding. "You are no bother; you are welcome any time. What is it?" He looked at her curiously. "Are you all right?"

She smiled thinly. "Actually, no. My head hurts."

"Again?" He kissed her. "If I had to live with dad and his schemes I'd have headaches too. So what is it now, Old Maloki again?

"Yes. Always." She moaned. "I was wondering if you could help me with it. I need something stronger."

He chuckled softly and led her over to his sleeping mat where they sat down. "Oh, the day I can't fix a little headache is the day I give up my work." He cocked his head, studying her face. "Did you fall or did it just start hurting?" He began to feel her head ever so gently.

"No, I didn't fall, it just started hurting one day, and it's been getting worse ever since."

His fingers massaged her temples and she wailed in pain. Makedde jerked his hands back as though he had been burned. He looked at her, astonished. "How long ago was this 'one day'?"

She looked at him miserably, tears glinting at the corners of her eyes. "Only since the last time you came to eat dinner with us at home; on Metutu's birthday, remember?"

He gaped at her. "Your head has been hurting for two moons?? My gods, why didn't you tell me!"