Yanik

“Either way, I'd brought a pair of hands and enough general surgical experience to be useful. If you'd ever had be a saint to heal someone, medicine would have been doomed from the start.”
― Greg Egan, Rewired: The Post-Cyberpunk Anthology

“Poor kid. All of them, really. And the years stretch ahead, a march beneath a sun that never goes down.”
― Stephen King, The Bazaar of Bad Dreams

“The central garden courtyard rang with conversation and tinkling bells, sphere vines in every shade of green and blue bobbing from ropes across the yard. There were streamers and bouquets of everbue branches, and white incense smoke curled up from the four corners.
Marda saw Ferize and her partners cushioned on blankets and holding their new babies for everyone to greet. On the long table were bowls of cider and small towers of honey candy, a few bottles of gnostra berry wine probably from town and candied fruit and boxes of pastries certainly from town. Most people wore the simple tunics of the Path, but there were others, newcomers, and visitors. Two small droids near the road to town projected competing music, and Marda nearly laughed as they fought with percussion.”
― Tessa Gratton, Path of Deceit

“During the months of winter and spring King Casmir looked only twice at the infant princess, in each case, standing back in cool disinterest. She had thwarted his royal will by coming female into the world. He could not immediately punish her for the act, no more could he extend the full beneficence of his favor.
Sollace grew sulky because Casmir was displeased and, with a set petulant flourishes, banished the child from her sight.
Ehirme, a raw-boned peasant girl, and nice to under-gardener, had lost her own infant son to the yellow bloat. With an amplitude of both milk and solitude she be came Suldron's wet-nurse”
― Jack Vance, Suldrun's Garden