Somewhere, floating in her mind, she found a tendril, pushed down upon it. It was a slight pressure, but she could feel the tendril more clearly as it resisted. She found more such tendrils, knitted them into a string and then a rope, hardened that into a hand and an arm, pressing down. For a moment, the two forces stood in equilibrium, and then slowly, ever so slowly, the expanding force—the thing inside her—began to contract, to dwindle, become denser but smaller, a tree pushed back into its seed. Hidden. After that, her thoughts lost their coherence again, swam away from each other like frightened fish.

"Keep her in bed for the rest of the day," she heard a voice command, and then nothing.

When she awoke, the odor of smoke had been replaced by the perfume of flowers, a great huge bunch of them, blue and red, in a vase near her bed. Tsem was crouched in the corner of the room, head on his knees.

She shook her head to clear it, found that it wouldn't clear entirely; the herbs had not completely run their course. She was able to feel her body again, however, and swung her legs around experimentally. Her mouth was dry and tasted bad, but at least the herbs were gone. Outside, the courtyard was dark, the crickets chirping. A few fireflies rose sparking, so she knew it had been dark for only a short while. She tried to stand up.

Tsem came alert at her motion.

"Stay in bed, Princess," Tsem cautioned. "I can bring you whatever you need."

"I need to pee, Tsem," she replied, reaching beneath her bed for the bucket there. Tsem blushed and looked away. Hezhi realized she was still naked.

"You can get me a gown," she conceded, and Tsem hurried off to find one.

"They didn't take me," she said, when he got back.

"No," Tsem replied.

"Why?"

"I don't know. They usu—" Tsem's head jerked violently and he convulsed for a long moment. Tears started in Hezhi's eyes as she watched, helpless again.

"Never mind," she got out. "Forget it. Forget I asked."

Qey entered the room, glanced at Tsem, who was just regaining his composure.

"Hello, Qey."

"Are you hungry, little one?" Qey asked.

"Not at all," she replied. "But some water would be nice."

Qey nodded and went to get it.

They hadn't taken her, so their test had not turned up any results. But it should have, one way or the other, decided her fate, should it not? If the "thing" in her had shown itself or if it hadn't, one result should have led to her disappearance and the other to her graduation to the royal wing.

"Qey," she asked when the woman returned. "Qey, will I be moving down the Hall of Moments now?"

Qey shook her head. "No, little one. According to the priests it is not yet time. You will stay here a bit longer."

So the test wasn't a yes-or-no test, she realized. The priests had wanted to see the force in her. It was somehow the nature—not the mere presence—of that thing that decided her fate. A negative result—which the priests must have gotten—that only allowed her to remain where she was—remain a child, in essence.

That meant, as the priest had implied, that more "rites" would follow. She knew, knew very deeply, that she would never be able to suppress the force in her again. Next time it would show itself, and she would be either saved or damned.

She dozed again after a time and awoke to the morning sun, feeling much better. There still seemed to be a sort of shroud about her, muffling sight and sound, but it was shredding away now, like the dead skin from a snake. The sausages Qey fried for breakfast were good, the huzh with cream and pomegranate sauce better. It was, in fact, Hezhi's favorite breakfast, and she loved Qey for fixing it.

"I'll be fine," she told the worried-looking woman. "I feel much better."

"I was afraid…" Qey's words stumbled over her tongue and she stopped, tried unsuccessfully to smile. "I'm glad you feel better," she said at last.

"You lied about my bleeding, Qey. You mustn't do that again."

"Hezhi, there are things you don't understand…"

"I understand more than you think," she responded. "And I know that you can't tell me the rest, so you mustn't feel bad."

"Oh. You were always a very bright child, Hezhi. Even when you were very young, in your cradle, you used to look at me in this way, this strange way…" She trailed off.

"Anyway," Hezhi went on, after an embarrassed pause. "I don't want you to lie that way again. Next time they test me, I think that they will discover I have begun bleeding. Do you see? I don't want you to get in trouble for lying."

Qey nodded numbly.

"Qey…" Hezhi took another mouthful of bread, sopped up some cream and jelly with it. "Qey, if you are forbidden to speak of this, don't. But will I be able to see you, after I move over to the royal wing?"

"Well, I… Well, Hezhi, it's not forbidden. You can come see me anytime you like, and of course Tsem will go with you. But I don't think you will want to come back here. There will be so much for you to do, you will have so many new friends…" Qey patted her leg indulgently. "You would just be bored, coming to see an old woman."

"What will you do, Qey? After I am gone?"

"Oh… I don't know. Probably raise another little girl—or a boy. It's what I like to do."

"Really? Did you raise any before me?"

Qey ceased eating, stared down at her plate. She seemed intent on something, something halfway between the plate and her eyes. Hezhi wondered what it might be. A face, perhaps?

"Why, yes," she said, again failing to smile. "Yes, I… raised a little boy."

"Do I know him? What was his name?"

Qey pursed her lips for a moment, sighed deeply, and then stood, a little shakily. "I have wash to do," she said vaguely. "Hezhi, dear, you rest some more."

She watched Qey cross the courtyard to the linen room. Then she went back to her own room, selected a comfortable dress, and changed from her gown into it. She arranged her hair as best she could without Qey's help. Then she found Tsem and started out for the library.

Indexing was a little beyond her that day, and she told Ghan so. He nodded, didn't ask for an explanation or become angry—at her anyway.

"A band of fops came in here this morning," he grumbled. "Boys looking for poetry. Not real poetry, mind you, but the doggerel that passes for it in the court these days. They had a writ, so I couldn't stop them, and they unshelved half of the library before I found a pretense to send them on their way."

"It might have been easier just to show them where what they wanted was," Hezhi told him.

Ghan snorted. "What they wanted is not here. They should have been looking in the private libraries of older fops, not in the Royal Archive. Idiots." He scratched out a few more characters from the book he was copying. "Anyway, you can reshelve those for me."

"I can do that," Hezhi told him.

"And Hezhi…" She turned. It still surprised her when he called her by her name, rather than "you" or a sarcastic "Princess." "After today I will no longer require your labor."

"What?" she choked out. "Ghan, what did I do? I'm sorry, whatever it was."

"Yes, I'm sure you are. If you must know, what you did was to satisfy the terms of your servitude. I feel that you have repaid the debt you owed me."

"But…"

"Your father was very specific in the writ. I will be held accountable if I require you to work after today. The debt is paid, Hezhi."

"But there is so much to do," she argued. "More than you have time for. Who would copy that manuscript if you had to shelve these books?"

"I managed long before you were born, Princess, and I will do quite well tomorrow, and the day after."

He was still copying the book, not looking up at her. Hezhi stood there, not quite sure what to say. Finally Ghan stopped, leaned back on his stool. "Is there something else?" he asked mildly.