'He seemed to think he had rights over you. He wanted to take you home. Stupid man. They're all stupid! They lie with you a few times and then think they have rights. They're just tools to get children.'

'What happened?'

'Matron put guards at the door. He fought to get in. I had to speak to one of my other clients, an influential man. Your father was sent to the front-lines.'

'Was he a soldier?'

'Of course not!' Marnie sneered. 'What do you take me for?'

Tiaan gritted her teeth. She felt like telling her mother exactly what she took her for. 'What happened to him?'

'He never came back,' said Marnie. 'I suppose the enemy ate him.'

It was like a blow in the belly. 'You killed him,' cried Tiaan. 'You killed my father!'

'The enemy killed him. Why should he live when so many others were dying?'

'Why should you you live?' Tiaan snapped. live?' Tiaan snapped.

'Because I create the future!'

'Only as long as you can have children,' Tiaan said frigidly.

Marnie stiffened, drawing in a deep, gasping breath. So that's what the matter was, thought Tiaan. Her life here was practically over and Marnie was terrified.

'I'm sorry, mother. Please.'

Marnie turned her face to the wall and Tiaan knew she would get no more from her on that topic.

There was a long silence. 'Our partners are selected carefully, you said?'

'They're prime specimens,' her mother enunciated, 'chosen for the qualities they bring to our children.'

'But they pay?' Tiaan persisted.

'Of course they pay! Where do you think all this comes from?' She swept an arm around the room.

'Thank you, mother. You've told me all I need to know.' Tiaan went to the door, which opened and an attendant came through, bearing a loaded tray her dinner. 'I'll take that in my room,' she said grandly, and sailed out.

Tiaan hugged her thoughts all the way back to her room. Her father had had cared for her. He'd tried to take her away from this ghastly place. It made her feel warm inside. cared for her. He'd tried to take her away from this ghastly place. It made her feel warm inside.

Logic told her that the poor man must be dead, though she clung to the hope that he had survived, perhaps trapped in a foreign land. All the more important that she find out who he had been and learn his Histories. When she had children they must know. It was practically a crime to bring up a child without its family Histories. She wondered what qualities her father had given to her. Well, she was unlike her mother in practically every respect, so she must be a lot like her father. If Marnie would not tell her, there was only one way to find out. She would have to take another look in the bloodline register.

Tiaan sampled the pastries on her tray. They were delicious, though they left a fatty taste in her mouth and she was still overfull from her previous meal. She had to get away. She would go mad here. That thought made her smile wryly. Or end up like my mother Or end up like my mother.

She went out again, walking the halls, acutely conscious that she was naked under her gown. No one gave it a second glance the other women wore more or less flamboyant versions of the same article.

Tiaan came down a staircase into the colonnaded marble foyer, whereupon she was stopped by an elderly man in maroon and grey livery.

'Tiaan Liise-Mar,' he said. 'Where are you going?'

'To the markets. I have some shopping to do.'

'You may not go out unescorted. Your indenture has not been cleared.'

She whirled and stormed up the stairs, back to her mother's room. 'They won't let me go out!' she cried.

Marnie looked up irritably. 'Of course you can't go out. You might run away.'

'You mean I have to stay trapped in this hideous place until I die?'

Her mother pursed her lips. 'You are permitted to go shopping once a month with an attendant. You will, of course, wear a discreet wrist manacle.'

'What, forever?'

'Until your indenture is paid off.'

'But that's two years away, even with what I've got saved.'

'The old indenture was paid out when you came here, and a new one written. All this has to be paid for,' Marnie said. 'Your gowns, food, attendants ...'

'Not forgetting the manacle. I suppose I have to pay for that too?'

'Well, of course you do. Money doesn't float in the air like butterflies.'

'I didn't ask for any of this.'

'It comes with the position.'

'How long?' Tiaan cried hoarsely.

'Depends on how many clients you service, how many children you bear, and how many of them survive. Some women have done it in five years, some ten or twelve, and some ...'

'Twelve years!' Tiaan sank down on the bed in despair.

'Tiaan, daughter. It's a wonderful life here. You'll soon come to love it.'

'If it's so wonderful, how come we have to be chained to a guard when we go out?'

ELEVEN.

Tiaan had two more days of eating, sleeping and being waited upon. Her attendants appeared three times a day, doing more work on hands, skin and nails. She hardly noticed. Tiaan had not stopped thinking about her father. It sounded as if he'd been a young man of good family. Clearly he'd loved his daughter, and Marnie had repaid him by sending him off to be killed. Every time she thought about it, tears streamed down Tiaan's cheeks. How could she find out? There was no one to ask. Her grandmother had died nine years ago and Tiaan had no other relatives. She was never alone, even for the few minutes it would take to sneak into Matron's office and check the register.

On her third lucid evening, Tiaan sat in silence until the attendants finished working on her hands, trying and failing to work out a plan. Tomorrow was to be her first time with a client, so she had to escape tonight. No way was she going to give herself to a man for money. There were too many of her grandmother's romantic stories in her head. Too many dreams. As she had that thought, her first dream came back the young man on the balcony, crying out for help. The later dreams she had had of him followed.

But were were they dreams? They were different from crystal-induced ones, which were like chopped-up nightmares that vanished on waking. The young man had been much more vivid. She could remember every incident perfectly, as if they had actually happened. He must be real. And he had cried out to they dreams? They were different from crystal-induced ones, which were like chopped-up nightmares that vanished on waking. The young man had been much more vivid. She could remember every incident perfectly, as if they had actually happened. He must be real. And he had cried out to her her for help. Her soft heart was touched. She had to find out who he was. But how could she, except through her dreams? for help. Her soft heart was touched. She had to find out who he was. But how could she, except through her dreams?

Maybe her artisan's life was was over, but never would she work in this disgusting place. They had no right over her, no matter what the law said. She would break out and make a new life for herself, far away. At that thought, Tiaan felt the terror of the unknown. Her whole existence had been organised for her. In the manufactory everything was taken care of and all she had to do was work. Here it would be the same. But if she fled, how would she survive? A runaway would not be welcome anywhere. Did she have the courage? She was no longer sure. over, but never would she work in this disgusting place. They had no right over her, no matter what the law said. She would break out and make a new life for herself, far away. At that thought, Tiaan felt the terror of the unknown. Her whole existence had been organised for her. In the manufactory everything was taken care of and all she had to do was work. Here it would be the same. But if she fled, how would she survive? A runaway would not be welcome anywhere. Did she have the courage? She was no longer sure.

The moon was rising through her barred window. There had been gales and snow all day but they had passed, leaving clear skies. It was late, past ten o'clock. Tiaan was not tired she'd slept for a week. How to escape? She'd gained the impression, from the chatter of the attendants, that the work of the breeding factory went on until the early hours of the morning.

Sitting by the window, she ran various schemes through her mind. The window bars were set solidly into the mortar and it would take days to dig them out. She must have money and warm clothes, for winter was coming and even down on the coast the nights would be bitter. But first she had to recover her artisan's toolkit, her most precious possession. If only she still had her pliance. Just the thought of it set off a flood of withdrawal. Deprived artisans had committed the most degrading acts to get their pliances back.

The door opened. It was Matron. 'Your first contract begins at one tomorrow afternoon. The attendants will wake you at nine with breakfast. They will take you to your bath at eleven, then make you ready. Go to sleep now.'

Matron pulled the door closed. A key turned in the lock.

Tiaan was left with her despair. Would the fits start again, the next time she used a hedron? What if she had an attack out in the snow where there was no one to look after her? Tiaan knew little about the world and how to survive in it. She'd never had to and was not sure she could. Maybe she was more like her mother than she'd thought.

The moon, shining on her face, roused Tiaan. It was bright for a crescent the bright face of the moon, not the dark. It must be well after midnight. She lit the lamp and tiptoed to the door to examine the lock. It was an old-fashioned one, enough to keep in any ordinary prisoner, but not an artisan with her skills.

Bending one of the tines of her dinner fork over, Tiaan picked the lock in a minute. The corridor was dark but for a night lamp down the far end. She went back, grabbed the knife and headed up the hall. She had to find clothes and shoes; but first, the register.

Tiaan opened Matron's office easily enough the lock was similar to the first. She felt around until she found a lamp and got it going. The bloodline register was no longer among the mess on the table. The cupboard was locked and her probe would not fit through the tiny keyhole.

She looked around for something to break in with. Her eye lighted on a climbing vine in a pot in the corner, which spiralled up around a length of wrought metal. Pulling it free, she jammed the point between the doors and wrenched. The timber split from top to bottom with a loud squeal. She whipped out the register and frantically turned the pages.

Someone called out, down the hall. Better hurry. The book was arranged in date order. Unfortunately Tiaan did not know what year Marnie had come here. Matron's writing was hard to read in the dim light and it was not until Tiaan noticed a familiar name, Jaski, that she realised she was on her mother's page. Jaski was one of her half-sisters, only four years old. Tiaan looked to the top of the page. No name. Marnie had been here so long that she had several pages. She flipped back to the first, scanning the entries until she found her own name, details of her birth and her first years. A cryptic note was scrawled in the Comments column, 'Does she have it?' and below that, in another hand, 'Not possible to tell. Put her into a suitable job and see.'

Have what? what? Footsteps roused her. Someone was coming. The name, quick! She checked the entry but could not make it out. The ink was faded, the handwriting abominable. Was the first name Omarti, or Amante, or even Arranti? The second name was a scrawl she could not decipher at all. It might have been Ullerdye, or Menodyn, or something quite different. She ran through the sounds in her mind. They did not seem to fit. Below the name, in different ink, it said simply 'Deceased'. Footsteps roused her. Someone was coming. The name, quick! She checked the entry but could not make it out. The ink was faded, the handwriting abominable. Was the first name Omarti, or Amante, or even Arranti? The second name was a scrawl she could not decipher at all. It might have been Ullerdye, or Menodyn, or something quite different. She ran through the sounds in her mind. They did not seem to fit. Below the name, in different ink, it said simply 'Deceased'.

Tiaan let out an involuntary cry. He was gone. She would never know him.

She blew out the lantern, tucked the register under her arm, and slipped out. At the corner she edged around, then ducked back. A bulky shadow was moving about further down. It looked like the matron.

Darting to the night lamp, Tiaan blew it out. She flattened herself against the wall and edged down the corridor. Before she was halfway to the stairs she heard Matron slip-slopping along, muttering to herself.

'More trouble than she's worth, fat old cow! Time to put her out the door. She's got enough gold stacked away to pay for the wretched war, and then demands half of this new indenture. Skinny little thing won't survive a year. Hell, she'll probably go mad again in a month and then where'll I be? Clients won't pay a nyd for that that.'

Tiaan went very still. Had Marnie, who was as rich as the legendary magister of Thurkad, extracted more coin after Tiaan was indentured here? She felt betrayed.

She held her breath as the old woman came shuffling past, wheezing. 'Useless maid! I told her to check the lamps.' She stopped just past Tiaan. 'That's funny. Is anyone there?'

Tiaan's heart was crashing around. Surely Matron must hear it. But she moved off again. Tiaan scuttled the other way, round the corner, heading for the stairs. Had she remembered to close her door? She did not think so. Too late now.

The top of the stair was dimly illuminated by a lamp in the foyer. Peering over the rail, she saw the door guard at the foot of the steps. There was no way to get past him.

Hurrying into the darkness she ran straight into a huge potted jesmyn on a stand. It fell and the pot smashed with a noise that must have been heard throughout the building. The register went flying. She groped for it in the dark.

'What was that?' cried the guard, thumping up the steps.

Tiaan could not find the book. As he came to the top step she pulled the gown up around her hips and ran, her breasts bouncing painfully. At the end of the corridor a hall went in either direction. She turned left, only to bang into a wall in the darkness. She scampered back the other way, rubbing her nose. If only she had not dropped the book.

This corridor was not lit and once past the junction Tiaan had to slow down. The corridor narrowed. She crept forward, her foot went down a step, she stumbled and just caught the rail as she fell.

Tiaan lay on the step, getting her breath back, until she heard shouts and the guard pounding up the corridor. At the bottom of a narrow service stair was a warren of rooms which she identified by feel laundries, linen presses, pantries, storerooms, then a vast kitchen lit by the glow of a pair of iron ranges that were never allowed to go out.

Dough was rising in covered bowls Tiaan could smell it. The bakers would appear shortly to produce the fresh breads, cakes and pastries for the day. The door to the outside had a complicated lock she might not be able to pick. The pantries and storerooms offered no refuge as soon as the cooks appeared they'd be in use. Tiaan felt panicky, like a criminal on the run.

Matron's voice bellowed orders, not far away. Tiaan ducked into the laundry, lit by moonlight through a high, barred window. It contained a row of coppers for boiling the washing and a vast rectangular bin full of dirty clothes, mostly scanty nightwear and bed linen. This door was also locked. Tiaan was probing it with her pick when someone ran into the kitchen. Cupboards were pulled open and slammed again. The laundry would be next. She dived into the clothes bin and burrowed down to the bottom.

It reeked of perfume, massage oil, sweat and other more offensive odours. One sheet was drenched in sickly sweet sherry. At the bottom, at least a span down, she encountered the tiled floor. Tiaan wormed into the corner furthest from the opening and waited.

It was hot; the bin backed onto the kitchen ranges. Sweat trickled down her back.

'Not yet!' a man's voice said sharply. 'Mathys, do the laundry. Hysso, check the pantries and cupboards. I'll go through the kitchen. Lock every door as you come out. Matron, put someone in every corridor. As soon as she moves, we'll find her. Mathys?'

'I'm working!' said a petulant young woman's voice.

The room search was a series of long silences punctuated by rattles and bangs. Tiaan wondered if the servant had gone or was waiting silently for her to emerge from some hiding place.

After one long interval there came a thud and the laundry pressed down on her. Mathys must have climbed into the bin. Was she pulling all the washing out? If she did, there was no chance of avoiding discovery. Tiaan would have to knock her out. She would do anything short of murder to get away.

The weight eased. Tiaan was not game to move even under all these clothes the servant girl must feel it. It became brighter, as if she was inspecting the bin with a lantern. A sudden, heart-stopping panic. What if she dropped it? The filmy nightwear would catch fire instantly.

Tiaan felt her moving away, walking up the other end of the bin. The movements went on for ages, then a little thump as she jumped back out.

'Mathys!' came Matron's angry shout.

'In the laundry, Matron.'

'Haven't you finished yet? Lazy slut of a girl!' A slap, a cry broken off. 'Did you check the laundry bin?'

'Yes,' said the girl sullenly.

'You took all the washing out?'

'Yes,' Mathys lied. 'I was just putting it back in.'

'Leave it there's still a hundred rooms to search. Come on, and lock that door behind you!'

The door slammed. The lock clicked. Tiaan waited in case it was a ruse. After five minutes, when there had been no further sound, she judged it safe to come out. Emerging as slowly as a butterfly from a cocoon, she found the room empty. Creeping to the back door, she attacked the lock. It proved more difficult than the other. The mechanism must not have been oiled in ages. She forced too hard and the prong of her fork broke off.

Easing it out with the other, Tiaan tried again. It was tense work; if she broke this prong she'd be finished. However, after some minutes, the lock clicked. She eased open the door, letting in a blast of frigid air. She had to have warm clothes, and food if she could possibly find any. She was cut off from both by the locked door. Was she game to pick it and go back in?

A distant angry shout convinced her not to try. She would have to go hungry. Tiaan hacked a woollen blanket in two, folded it over half a dozen times and bound it around her feet with strips torn from a sheet. She put on eight nightgowns, one over the top of another, hoping that enough layers would compensate for their individual flimsiness.

Tiaan hunted for another blanket but could not find one. She made do with three sheets wrapped around her, tying them at the waist with another strip of linen. A flint striker, on the shelf above the coppers, caught her eye. She tied it into her sash. It could well save her life. She took a handful of tinder too. Tiaan pulled the door closed and, mindful of her previous failure, bent to lock it.

That proved even harder, but finally the door clicked. She scurried away, gravel crunching underfoot. It was freezing outside puddles from the earlier rain had iced over. Layers of filmy cloud hid the setting moon. It must be around four in the morning.

Daylight was around seven-thirty so she did not have long to get out of Tiksi. She crept up the side of the building, walking on the paved edges of the gardens, and out the carriage entrance. The front door was open, the doorman standing in the light talking to Matron. A carriage waited nearby. The horse's breath steamed, as did a pile of manure behind it. Slinking into the shadows, Tiaan made her way up the street.