"Besides being insane, you mean."

"You should know better than to talk to me like that. I am your mistress, remember?"

"Yes, little one." Tsem sighed. "But your father is a higher master. He would be most upset with me should harm befall you. Anyway,"—Tsem shrugged—"I can't help it if I say the wrong thing now and then. Tsem not too bright, you know."

Hezhi laughed scornfully. "Yes, I've seen you do that trick before my father and his court. 'Tsem want to help.' 'Tsem not understand such things, Master.' But I know better, Tsem. And you know I know better."

"You know too much for someone so young," Tsem said softly.

"It must be the Royal Blood working in me," Hezhi replied, through a contrived smile.

Tsem's face clouded, his thick eyebrows coming together like twin thunderstorms. But beneath the clouds, his eyes were gentle, sad. He grasped her arm. "Don't even say that, Princess," he whispered.

Hezhi frowned. "I don't understand. I am my father's daughter. I carry the Royal Blood—from my mother's line, too. I will be like them, powerful. One day."

"One day," Tsem said, shaking his head as if to clear it. "But now let's get you back aboveground, to a proper bath and fresh clothes."

"No," Hezhi replied. She pressed herself away from the half Giant. "No. I'm going on."

"Oh? So you can keep falling into pools?"

"I should have brought a lantern, that's all. Now I have one. Say…" Hezhi frowned. "I thought I lost you, like always. How did you find me?"

Tsem grinned a little, showing his enormous teeth. "You not lose Tsem, little Mistress. Tsem always stay far back, always out of sight."

Hezhi reddened. "You're using your dumb voice. Because I thought you were dumb, too. But I guess I was the one who…" She broke off again, this time to stifle a sudden giggle.

"What?" Tsem demanded.

"I was just picturing someone your size sneaking around after me and D'en."

Tsem touched her lightly on the shoulder. "I'm sorry about D'enata."

"His name," Hezhi snapped, all sudden humor vanished, "is D'en. Nn! And I'm going to find him!"

"I knew that was what you were about!" Tsem exclaimed. "Princess, it is hopeless. Give up this notion. Try to forget your friend. It is all that you can do."

"I will not."

"Where will you go from here? Even with a lantern? Your trail ends there, in the water." He gestured at the submerged lower stair.

That silenced her. Tsem was right. Or was he? In her excitement, in arguing with Tsem, Hezhi had not looked around properly, now that she was able. But Tsem was indeed right. She could just barely see the arch of one door, there beyond the stair. If she could reach that, she might duck under it and find another room. Or she might not.

"I'll go back," she said, "but only so far as another turning. There are many ways down into this darkness. One must lead to D'en."

Tsem wagged a finger. "I will carry you out, Princess. Your father will thank me."

"And I will come back, Tsem. Again and again, until I either find him or fall too far for even you to save me. If you always follow me, you know what I think of doing, at times. And now that I know how smart you are, I think I may get away from you. I was never as clever as I could be, Tsem, since I didn't realize I had to be."

Tsem knitted his brows back together. "What do you want of me, Mistress? My task is to keep you safe. I can't let you run around down here. There are things down here."

"There are things up there, too."

"I don't mean ghosts, little Princess. Those are mostly harmless, and the priests keep the bad ones swept out. Down here there are real things. And the priests don't come down here to sweep."

Hezhi sighed. "My mind is made up. You can either go with me—where I want to go—or you can leave me alone. Which will it be? Protect me, or let me roam?"

"My head," Tsem growled, "is as likely to leave my shoulders either way."

"I wouldn't let them do that, Tsem."

"You have no control over such things, Princess."

For a moment, Hezhi nearly relented. Tsem was so good, so loyal. Almost as much a friend as D'en had been. But Tsem and all of the other servants kept a certain distance from her—even Qey, the woman who had nursed her, been all but completely her mother. Even Qey had been withdrawing from Hezhi these last few years. D'en had been unreserved with his affection.

"Tsem," Hezhi said evenly, "I will find D'en. With or without you."

Tsem nodded sadly, not in her direction, but out over the sunken hall. "Very well." He sighed. "With me, then. But not now, Mistress. Not today. Tomorrow, when you've rested, when we get you some proper clothes."

"You'll come with me?"

"Yes, though it won't do any good," Tsem said sadly.

"We will find him," Hezhi insisted.

"Maybe that will not be a good thing," Tsem gently replied.

"Do you think he is dead?"

Tsem regarded her for a long moment, then scooped her up in his great arms. "You'll catch a fever like this, Princess." He bent and took the lantern in one massive hand and carefully started up the mud-covered stair.

"Why do they take them off, Tsem?"

It seemed that Tsem considered that question for perhaps too long a time before answering. "I don't know, Princess."

"I think you do," Hezhi told him petulantly. "Do they take servants off, too?"

"No. Not like that. When a servant is punished, it is done publicly, with much fanfare. So the rest of us will know."

Tsem was past the slickest mud now, and gray light was beginning to filter in from farther up the tunnel, where it turned right.

"Do you really not know why they take them off, Tsem?"

"I really don't. Not for sure."

"Do you think that they will take me off?"

"No," Tsem answered, his voice curiously flat and clipped.

"If they could take off D'en, why not me?" Tsem shrugged his massive shoulders. "You think too much, Princess. Because they won't, that's all."

Tsem could be a wall in more ways than one. Hezhi knew when he would say no more.

The hot bathwater felt good. The angry gaze of Qey did not. Her middle-aged face was as round and tight as a fist; her hazel eyes sparkled dangerously in the lamplight as she leaned over to scrub just a bit too hard at the mud crusted on Hezhi's feet.

"Where is your dress?" Qey whispered after a time. Her soft voice was not conspiratorial, not pitched to trade secrets. It was reined in low only so that it would not be a shout. Hezhi winced as the less-than-kind attentions of the scrub rag moved up to her face and neck. She did not answer.

"Your dress! Do you know? Your parents will think I sold it. I may be beaten. Or Tsem! If you won't think of me, think of him. Surely someone saw him carrying you, all but naked. They might castrate Tsem!"

Hezhi wasn't sure what castration was, but she knew it couldn't be good, not if Tsem was threatened with it.

"Nobody saw us," Hezhi shot back. Soap was smarting her eyes, and more tears swam about there, as well, despite all that she had shed since the disappearance of D'en. Her eyes seemed like the River, limitlessly full.

"You can't be sure of that. You're just a child!" But her voice had begun to soften, her frantic scrubbing becoming more gentle. When Hezhi's tears finally burst forth, Qey took her in her arms, soaking the front of her simple dress with soap and bathwater.

"Child, child," Qey whispered. "What are we to do with you?"

Later, in the kitchen, Qey did not bring up the matter at all. Bright sunlight flooded the courtyard outside, washed the inner kitchen walls with cheerful color. Strings of garlic and shallots dazzled white and purple above the table as Qey kneaded huzh, the thick black bread that Hezhi loved, especially with pomegranate syrup and cream. The warm pungence of the yeast mingled with the scent of coffee warming on the indoor skillet-stove and juniper smoke wafting in from the courtyard, where the bread oven was slowly heating up. Tsem was dozing in the sunlight, a happy smile on his broad face.