A knock. What was this? No one knocked, not Senghor; but it was Seng-hor, and he said, "The women want you to go down and tell them stories."

His manner was different. And when she went into the big room, she thought the girls looked at her differently, while they called, "Mara, talk to us," and the little one, Crethis, from Leta's lap, said, "Mara, start from the beginning again."

Now Mara began earlier than she had, which was the moment of running away from her parents' house into the dark, and started with her life as a small child — that wonderful, friendly, easy, indulged life where she woke every morning to the adventure of a child's discoveries, and to the expectation of What did you see, Mara, what did you see? And, as she talked, she remembered even more details, little things half forgotten: how the water in a stream ran over a shallow stone and made patterns; the soft flower smell of her mother when she came to say goodnight. Mara talking, her mind a long way in her past, was looking at plump Crethis, with her baby face and wet pink lips, and she knew who was the infant she had been dreaming about. Crethis, lying inside a sheltering arm and looking out at Mara, was like a little girl. She was a little girl, even a baby, with her wandering hands, touching this, poking at the face just above her, and laughing. The face that was unlike all the others, with its heavy, green eyes and pale lashes, white, glistening white, and the heavy, pale hair that fell over Crethis's face so that she pulled it and laughed. But because Leta was so different, she never lacked customers, and a man came in and pointed at her, and she had to get up and go off into one of the little rooms with him. Crethis crawled to Mara and climbed inside her arms. Mara talked on, hearing in her voice undertones of longing, like a song, and thought, Yes, but I'm not telling them about how the dust piled up in the courtyards and the fountains were dry and the trees stood pining for water.

And now Crethis reached forward to touch Mara's face and said, "Princess Mara, and you lived in a palace."

Mara understood the new respect she was getting from Senghor, and the curiosity of the girls, and she said, "If I was a princess I didn't know it, and I'm not a princess now."

The evening's customers were coming in, and the girls got themselves out of their lazy poses, and sat about attractively and talking coquettishly to each other, with an eye on the door to see who would appear.

Daulis arrived. He looked worried, hurried, and at once signalled to Mara. Crethis got up but he shook his head — no. At this moment Leta came back and, seeing Daulis, went to him and talked urgently, in a low voice, holding his arm.

"Wait," he said. "Wait, Leta. Wait."

He and Mara went up to her room. Mara had time to see how Crethis cuddled up to another girl, not Leta, who was standing staring after Daulis. They did not sit down.

Daulis said, "Something bad. It is my fault. I am afraid I said something to Crethis about you."

"A princess," said Mara. "A princess in a brothel."

He made a gesture — don't. And his face was miserable, all apology and anxiety. Seeing him thus she thought much less of him: he even seemed smaller, less impressive.

"So," said Mara, "she told the girls and the girls have told customers."

"I have the money to buy you out. It is partly mine and partly Shabis's money. But now some Council members want to buy you."

"A princess prostitute?" said Mara.

"A Mahondi princess. It would be a feather in their caps. And they are going to offer Dalide double the price I settled on with her. I haven't got that much."

Mara thought, I've got it, here, on my body, but I'm not going to tell him. I might need it later even more than I do now.

"Luckily Mother Dalide is away. She wouldn't be able to resist, although she agreed on the price. I think you would soon find yourself in a much more unpleasant captivity than this one. And so we are going to move fast. I have made a statement before the chief magistrate, who is a good friend of mine, luckily, that the price was agreed between me and Dalide. It is legally binding, but I am sure Dalide and those crooks would find a way around it. I propose to take you up north with me to Kanaz immediately. And then when you have met up with Dann, we'll go on."

"Who controls the exit lines north from here?"

"The Council, of course. I am one of them. We have to leave before the others find out."

"And who is so keen to get this princess safely out of Bilma? Where am I supposed to be?"

He hesitated. "You'll soon know, Mara. I promise. You'll understand it all. Meanwhile, we must hurry."

She began putting her clothes into the sack, sad that these so beautifully washed and pressed dresses would be crushed up again.

Outside there were loud, arguing voices. Senghor and Leta. She came in, trying to shut the door on Senghor. He would not be shut out. Daulis had to push him back.

Leta said, "Daulis, why wouldn't you listen to me? I was trying to tell you. I've just been with the Chief of the Council, and he said that they are putting a guard on the north station."

Daulis sat down heavily on the bottom of the bed and put his head in his hands.

"But if you listen to me," said Leta, "Just listen. I know a way. You must marry Mara and then they can't stop you — well, you aren't married, are you?"

Daulis was silent, but a quick, almost furtive look at Mara said that he did not want to marry her.

"The marriage would not be legal outside the country of Bilma." "Wouldn't it? How do you know?"

Leta laughed, angrily. "I know. I have spent years trying to think of ways to get out. I know about the laws. There isn't a man in Bilma with any kind of expertise who has been in my bed, that I haven't used. Information. I have been in this place ten years," she said. "Ten years." And Mara could hear the horror of it, in her voice, full of hate. "Take me out with you," she said. "I have saved some money. Mother Dalide lets us keep a little. I have had my price ready for two years now. I could buy myself free, here, but when I walked around Bilma I'd be looking into the faces of men I've had sex with. In Kanaz no one will know me."

"Surely if I took anyone it should be Crethis?" said Daulis.

Leta, Mara could see, was only just controlling impatience.

"I know you are fond of her," she said.

"Yes, I am," he insisted.

"Have you thought what you'd do with her? She's not like me, she's not independent. You'd have her on your hands."

"A pleasure," he said. But it was only to keep his end up — he was looking doubtful.

"There are women who hate this life," said Leta. "Like me. And there are some who like it. And Crethis is one." Daulis shook his head — shaking away the thought. "Crethis can have six men in a night and she often does, she's popular. And she will enjoy every minute of it." Daulis had got up and was staring out of the window where sparks from the watchmen's fire fled up into the dark. "If you took her out of this house she'd be back. It's her home. And if you took her to Kanaz she'd be back into the brothels in no time."

Silence from Daulis. He had his face turned well away but there were tears on his face.

"Yes, you love her. But she's a little girl. She was six years old when she came here — and began her life as a whore. She has never spent a night alone, except when she was ill last year with the lung disease."

"I promised her," said Daulis.

"What did you promise? A member of the Council couldn't have promised marriage to a whore out of Mother Dalide's brothel?" "I promised her safety in my house."

"You're not the only one. Your friend the Chief of the Council took her out to his home, and she was back here six days later. This house is her home and Mother Dalide is her mother."