Hierosol was so old and complex and ingrown that to Qinnitan every neighborhood seemed to be its own city, its own world-tree-covered Fox-gate Hill sloping gently behind her, home of rich merchants, and just below the sailmakers' and shipwrights' quarter of Sandy Head, bustling with work from the adjacent Harbor of Kalkas. Not just a new city to explore but dozens of new worlds, all waiting for her and her newfound freedom. For a girl who had spent the last several years in the cloistered ways of the Hive and the Seclusion, it was dizzying to contemplate.

She had been brought here across the narrow sea from Xis by Axamis Dorza, the captain of the boat that had carried her away from her lifelong home when Dorza's master Jeddin fell suddenly and precipitously from the autarch's favor. When word of Jeddin's capture had caught up to them in Hierosol, most of the sailors on the Morning Star of Kirous had melted away into the shadowy alleys of the port. Those few that remained were even now scraping the ship's old name off the hull and repainting it. Qinnitan supposed Jeddin's slim, fast ship would belong to Dorza now, which must be at least some small compensation to him for being associated with the now infamous traitor.

It had been kind of Axamis Dorza, she knew, if also pragmatic, to take her into his home in the,Onir Soteros district at the base of the rocky hills that leaned above Sandy Head. Although he could not know it, Dorza must suspect that Qinnitan was in even greater jeopardy than himself, and though hiding her from the autarch's spies might keep Dorza himself safe in the short run, it was bound to look bad if she was ever captured. In fact,

the captain had made it clear that he was not happy with Qinnitan roam-ing the streets, even dressed in the fashion of a respectable Xandian girl (which left little of her visible) but she had made it equally clear to him that she would no longer be anyone's prisoner, especially in Dorza's small house. It was not his house at all, really, but the property of his Hierosoline wife, Tedora. Qinnitan suspected the captain had a larger, more respectable house and also a more respectable wife and family back home in Xis, but she was too polite to inquire. Qinnitan also suspected that she would not have been allowed such freedom in that other house, but Tedora was a woman of Eion, not Xand, and was more interested in drinking wine and gossiping with her neighbors than watching over the moral education of a fugitive Xixian girl. Because of that, and a certain confused subservience Qinnitan inspired in Dorza, most of the freedom which had been stolen from her since her girlhood in Cat's Alley had been returned.

In fact, other than her terror of the autarch and her fear of being recap¬tured, there was only one sizeable fly in the honey of her current Hieroso¬line harbor…

"Ho, there you are! Wait for me!"

Qinnitan flinched reflexively-in the back of her mind she was always waiting for the moment one of the autarch's minions would lay a hand on her-although within half a heartbeat she had known who it was.

"Nikos." She sighed and turned around. "Were you following me?"

"No." He was taller than his father Axamis, all the size of a man and none of the gravity or sense, the fuzz of his first black beard covering his chin, cheeks, and neck. He had trailed her like an oversized puppy since his fa¬ther had first brought her home. "But he was, and I followed him." Nikos pointed at the small, silent boy who was standing so close to her he must have come within arm's reach without her even hearing.

"Pigeon!" she said, frowning at him. "You were to stay in bed until you're well."

The mute boy smiled and shook his head. His face was even paler than usual, and he had a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead. He held out his hands, palm up, to show that as far as he was concerned he was too healthy to be left at home.

"Where are you going, Qinnitan?" Nikos asked.

"Don't call me by that name! I wasn't going anywhere. I was thinking, enjoying the quiet. Now it's gone."

Nikos was immune to such remarks. "Some big ships just came in from

Xis, I do you want to go down to the harbor to look at them? Maybe you know some of the people on board."

Qinnitan could not think of anything more foolish or dangerous. "No, i do not want to go look at them. I've told you-your father has told you- that I can have nothing to do with anyone from the south. Nothing! Do you never learn?"

Now he did look a little hurt, her tone finally piercing the armor of his nearly invincible disinterest in anything outside his tiny circle of familiar¬ity. "I just thought you might like it," he said sullenly. "That you might be a little homesick."

She took a breath. She could not afford to anger Nikos as long as she lived in his house. The problem was, the boy fancied her. It was ludicrous that she was suffering from the unwanted attentions of a lumbering child her own age when only weeks before the greatest king in the world had kept her locked away in the Seclusion, threatening death to any whole man who so much as looked at her, but along with freedom, she was learning, came the costs of freedom.

She let Nikos trail after her as they climbed the winding streets of Fox-gate Hill in the shadow of the old citadel walls, up into the crocus-starred heights where shops and taverns gave way to the houses of the wealthy, pretty white-plastered places with high walls that concealed gardens and shady courtyards, although all these secrets could be seen from the streets above, so that each level of society was exposed to the inspection of its wealthier neighbors. These houses, despite their size and beauty, still stood close together, side by side along the hilly roads like seashells left along the line of the retreating tide. She could only imagine what it would be like to live in such a place instead of Captain Dorza's noisy, rickety house that smelled of fish and spilled wine. She wondered even more acutely what it would be like to have a house of her own, a place where no one entered without her permission, where she did what she wanted, spoke as she wanted.

It was not to be, of course. She could hide here in Hierosol with people who spoke her language, or she could go back to Xis and die. What other choices were there?

Pigeon was tugging at her arm; she was suddenly reminded that her own life was not her only responsibility.

Freedom. Sometimes it seemed that the more of it she had, the more she lacked.

•**

Nikos had pretended to bump against her for the fifth or sixth time, and this time had actually managed to put his hand on her rump and give it a squeeze before she could slap it away, when she decided to turn back to the captain's house. Her privacy stolen, her thoughts dragged down by Nikos' innocently stupid questions and less innocent attempts to paw her, she knew the best of the day was over. Qinnitan sighed. Time to go back to Tedora and that laugh of hers like the cry of an irritated goat, to the thick smoke in the air and the endless noise and the jumble of screeching chil¬dren. She couldn't blame Nikos for wanting to spend time out of doors, she just wished he would spend it somewhere other than in her vicinity.

She put her arm around Pigeon, who pressed against her happily-he, at least, seemed quite content with their new life, and played with the younger children as comfortably as if they were his own brothers and sis¬ters-then pulled her hood a little closer around her face, as she always did when she walked through the neighborhood around the captain's house, where nearly half the people seemed to come from Xis and many of them were sailors who shipped back and forth across the Osteian Sea several times a year. The house seemed oddly quiet as they walked down the long path: she could hear one of the younger children talking cheerful nonsense, but not much else.