"Enough," chuckled Tahmu. "It is true, they need little water to traverse the desert, but they certainly need more than a cupful. Rare and worth their weight in water indeed they are, but they are beasts, nonetheless, not magical creatures."

"If the great khashim says so, then so it must be," replied Kevla, doubt creeping into her voice, "but my eyes tell me otherwise."

Tahmu laughed aloud at that, then sobered. "Kevla, turn and look at me."

The girl obeyed. Tahmu's face was serious.

"You are wise for your age, so I think you will understand. No one must know that your mother was a-did what she did. To all who ask, you must reply that you are a poor orphan I found in the streets of the marketplace."

Kevla frowned. "But great khashim, I have skills that a lady would value. I know how to dress hair, to apply henna. How will I explain knowing these things?"

Tahmu thought for a moment. "A good point. We will-you will say your mother was a dancer. Not a highly regarded profession, but better than a halaan."

Kevla considered this. "But even a dancer has a name."

His eyes were compassionate as he spoke the words that dashed her hopes.

"Then you must still be Bai-sha. I am sorry for that; I would have spared you shame where I could. But the story of a dancer is closer to the truth, and a lie that has a seed of truth in it is easier to tell."

He placed his finger under her chin and tilted her face up. "It is better to be Bai-sha in the House of Four Waters than Bai-sha on a dusty corner, is it not?"

Kevla thought of her mother's last words to her, of the coolness with which she had sold her only daughter. An ache welled up in her heart, threatening to spill out as tears.

She blinked them back. That life was over."What you say is true, khashim," Kevla said.

"Now. The sun is hot, and I am thirsty. I am not a sa'abah, and I need more than a cupful of water a day. And you do too. Enough gawking. Hang on tightly to Swift's mane, Kevla, for I am impatient to be home and in the shade!"

Kevla turned around and obeyed the instructions, lacing her fingers in the silky softness. With a sudden thrill of excitement that banished the lingering shame of Bai-sha and mitigated the pain of parting from her mother, she felt the beast gather itself.

"Hua, hua!" cried Tahmu, striking Swift-Over-Sand on the rump with his hand.

Swift-Over-Sand proved to be Swift-Over-Rocky-Path as well. Kevla couldn't suppress a squeal of delight as the animal surged forward. Swift lowered his head as his body stretched out and found its stride, shaking his head and gnawing the bit, his gold-tipped tusks catching the sunlight.

Down towards the miracle of greenness and water the horse plunged, taking the path at a confident gallop. The path twisted and turned, revealing the valley's secrets in greater detail. All at once they were on a flat path, galloping past workers in the fields, who made haste to prostrate themselves as their master passed. Then up again, a gradual incline, past many of the beautifully-painted buildings, past the stone corrals that housed the magnificent horses and the unbelievable sa'abahs, in through a huge gate that closed behind them- -and suddenly, there in the courtyard of the main houses of the khashim's estate, exultation and excitement slowed in Kevla's heart as Swift-Over-Sand's pace slowed and clattered to a halt.

Tahmu slipped off the beast. He made no move to help her down. Instead, a servant stepped forward and reached hands up to Kevla.

She ignored the friendly hands and smile of the servant, instead finding her own way off the stamping, snorting animal. She landed hard, but gave no sign of pain, rising from her hands and knees to stand straight and silent.

Tahmu nodded approvingly. "Come with me."

"Sahlik, I have a new servant for you to train."

Sahlik did not drop to her knees. Tahmu would not expect it, not with her inflamed joints. She turned slowly around from the cookfire she was tending.

"You," she said, gesturing to a girl who huddled on the floor, "get the khashim and his new servant some water."

The girl scurried to obey, presenting a dripping, hollowed-out gourd to her master with a deep bow. He drank, and then handed it to the child who stood beside him.

Sahlik looked at the girl as she drained the dipper. Her heart rose. She glanced from child to khashim, and though her lips didn't move, Sahlik had a smile of approval in her eyes for Tahmu.

He had gone, as she had urged.Two days ago, Sahlik, on a rare visit to the market with some of the kitchen servants, had spotted Kevla on the corner. Few servants now remained at the House of Four Waters who had seen the young Tahmu through that heartbreaking time eleven years past. It had been Sahlik who had given the cold, but ultimately wise, advice that he had to leave Keishla. And it had been Sahlik who had held her young lord in her arms as he wept, after the deed had been done.

There had been no mistaking the youthful energy of the young Tahmu in the child's vigorous dance, nor the sloe eyes of Keishla in her face. Sahlik had known the girl for what she was, and had urged her master to take pity upon her.

A good boy, Tahmu. He listened well.

But no one else must know, not even the girl herself. Sahlik turned her attention to Kevla, her eyes narrowing. Far too thin. Walking slowly over to the child, she examined the new servant the way Tahmu might examine a horse he was planning to purchase. Sahlik opened the girl's mouth and felt around her teeth and gums. Good.

No teeth were loose yet, and Dragon willing, they would not come loose later. Her eyes were clear, her thin arms surprisingly strong with muscle.

"She looks well enough," Sahlik said, stepping back. "Where did you want her, my lord?"

"Put her in as one of Yeshi's attendants."

By the Great Dragon, he was courting trouble. "Are you certain, my lord? Such positions are usually given as rewards for years of service."

She was speaking, of course, what they both knew. She hoped Tahmu would sense the other, unsaid words.

"Kevla's mother was a dancer, before her untimely death," said Tahmu in a conversational tone. Only Sahlik, who knew the man better than nearly anyone, could have caught the undercurrent of tension in the everyday words. This, then, was the story Tahmu and Sahlik would spread.

"Kevla knows many useful skills-hair decorating, henna, massage-things that a woman would appreciate. If she does not work out, there is always another position for her, yes?"

"Certainly," Sahlik agreed. If Tahmu wanted an easy lot for the child of his blood, then it was not her place to disagree. Yeshi was an unobservant woman. It was possible, perhaps even likely, she would not notice the resemblance. Sahlik would leave such matters up to the discretion-or lack thereof-of the khashim.

She wiped at the perspiration gleaming on her forehead. Even though she wore a light rhia that permitted air to circulate and cool her body, Sahlik found she endured the extreme temperatures less well than she once did.

"It is hot on these old bones," she said. "I will prepare Kevla myself."

She grasped the girl's hand. Without waiting for the khashim's dismissal, Sahlik led Kevla away.Kevla followed obediently, showing none of the lively, rather coarse enthusiasm she had displayed the other day in the marketplace. Sahlik was pleased. She led the girl through the kitchen storage house, back out into the bright sunlight, and into another low, ornately decorated building. This one, unlike many of the others, had a wooden door. It was only one story, and much smaller than the other buildings.

Torches burned in sconces fastened to the outside walls, even though the day was wiltingly hot. Kevla turned, a question on her lips.

"Why-"

"You'll see soon enough, child. And it's not too soon to learn to speak when you are spoken to, and not before."

Kevla bowed her head meekly. Sahlik noticed that the child's hair had extremely red highlights in the sun.

"Very good," approved Sahlik. "Now, open that door, and let's be about it."

Kevla hastened to obey, pulling the door open and stepping back to allow Sahlik to enter first. The old woman reached for a torch, and stepped into the darkness.

Cool, thought Kevla. It's cool in here!

She realized that this building was made not of mud or brick, as the others were, but of stone. She followed the old serving woman inside.

"Close the door behind you."

Kevla obeyed. Now, the only light came from the flickering torch borne by Sahlik.

Kevla kept close to the head servant, uncomfortable in this darkness. The tent in which she had spent all her life had not been able to shut out the light as this building did, and even a moonless night outside had a crowded field of bright, twinkling torch lights to keep her company.

Sahlik moved forward, her steps swift for her age, and certain. Kevla realized that there were stairs ahead that wound down even further into the darkness.

Sahlik continued, moving steadily downward. Other torches hung on the walls, and these she lit as she passed. Wide-eyed and silent, Kevla followed.

The stairs seemed to wind downward forever. At last, a sound reached Kevla's ears. It seemed familiar, but amid the echoes she couldn't be certain. Surely it was not the gurgle of water that it sounded like. That was to be expected from rivers such as those she had seen earlier, but not here, not at the bottom of a house.

At last the descent ended. Sahlik stepped forward, Kevla at her heels, into a large stone cavern.

Kevla gasped, softly.

It was water.

A spring bubbled up into a large pool of gently moving liquid. Kevla could barely see it in the dim illumination provided by Sahlik's single torch, but it took only a little light to catch the gleam of the water and reflect it back. A second, smaller pool had alarge pump, and several buckets sat beside it. Sahlik sat down on a stone bench, groaning and rubbing her knees.

"It is a long walk for me, and the trip back to the surface will be even longer. But it is always worth it. What do you think, Kevla?"

Almost, there was warmth in her voice. Kevla glanced at the old woman, but in the faint light she couldn't read Sahlik's expression.

"Is-did the khashim make these?" she asked, turning her attention back to the pools.

Sahlik laughed. "No man can create water, child. But yes, a tunnel was dug many years ago between here and the river. It is one of the House's greatest strengths. We will never run out of water for drinking or bathing."

"B-bathing?" Kevla's voice cracked.

"Of course. Did you think I came all this way simply to give you a drink, girl?

Take off that dirty rhia. Can't have a servant to the khashima running around in that mouse-chewed thing."

Hesitantly, with a sudden bout of shyness, Kevla drew off the garment. Crossing her arms over her chest, she padded over to the larger pool and glanced over to Sahlik for confirmation. At the old servant's nod, Kevla sat down on the smooth stone. She took a deep breath, suddenly filled with a nameless, unreasoning fear, then swung her legs into the water.

It was cool, soft, like a gentle hand caressing her legs. A bath. She, Kevla Bai-sha, was about to take a bath, in the underground spring of the greatest khashim in the land.

She buried her face in her hands and began to sob. She wasn't sure why, it just seemed that now, at this moment, it was the only thing she could do.

And when suddenly Sahlik was there, her bony shoulder a curious comfort, her gnarled old hands soothing Kevla's hair, Kevla did not think to ask how Sahlik had understood so readily. She merely leaned into the embrace and sobbed her young heart out, her legs, submerged to the knees, splashing the alien water gently.

Chapter 4.

Sahlik was glad the girl wept. She knew it was not good to keep powerful emotions locked inside as if in a sealed jar. She herself was no stranger to tearsstolen in rare moments alone, although life had been good to her in these later years.

A smile curved her lips as she thought, I am perhaps the only woman I know who is happier as an old servant than a young wife.

The smile faded. She knew the situation in which she had found herself as a young woman was far from unique.

She held the girl as the child sobbed. When Kevla at last drew back, dragging her thin arm across her wet nose and face, Sahlik decided it was a good opportunity to begin the instruction of etiquette.

"Yeshi would have you flogged if you did that in her presence," Sahlik said gently but firmly.

Kevla's eyes widened and she froze. "Cry? I would not cry in front of a khashima," she said.

"I did not think you would," replied Sahlik, "but I was referring to this." She imitated Kevla's gesture, exaggerating it. Through the tears still on her face, Kevla giggled. "If perchance something made you sneeze, or your eyes water, you would beg permission to excuse yourself and bathe your face. Like this."

Seated next to Kevla beside the pool, she bent, cupped some water in her hands and delicately splashed her face. By the Dragon, it felt good. Kevla followed suit, saying with a faint trace of pride, "I have washed my face before."

Sahlik smothered her laugh. "That's good," she said. "Now, it is time to wash your whole body." She removed her own clothes and slipped off the edge into the pool. The water came to her waist. Each time, it became harder for her to climb out.

She would ask Tahmu about installing some steps inside the pool.

Kevla remained seated as if she had turned to stone, staring at the dark water.

"Are you afraid?" asked Sahlik. Kevla hesitated, then nodded. "Do not be. I know how to swim and I will teach you. I will teach you many things, child. Now, slip into the water. I will be right here."

Kevla looked up, her eyes searching Sahlik's. She took a deep breath, and then, displaying what Sahlik knew to be great trust, slipped into the water. True to her word, Sahlik caught her.

"It's not too deep," she said as the child began to flail. "You can stand. Hold onto the side. That's it."

The water came to mid-chest on Kevla. She was breathing quickly, but remained admirably calm as she found her footing.

"Many a boy-child has panicked the first time in the pool," Sahlik said. "Even Tahmu's son Jashemi did. Yet you are already standing. Very good. Now, let me wash your hair and body. From now on, you will be able to do this by yourself.

When we are done, I will teach you how to use the brush and the oils, so that you may be presentable to the mistress of the House of Four Waters."

Kevla's body and hair were scrubbed and oiled. Skin and hair, clean andperfumed, gleamed in the torchlight. Sahlik tossed her old rhia into a woven basket in which other items of clothing were jumbled. From a second basket, the old woman withdrew a garment that, to Kevla, seemed impossibly white and fresh.

She reached out and touched the fabric, rubbing it between thumb and forefinger.

"It is so beautiful," she breathed. "Surely you cannot mean for me to wear this? Is this not more fitting for the khashima?"

Sahlik chuckled. "Yeshi would be outraged if anyone suggested she wear this.

You'll soon learn the quality of her clothing. This is standard for all of the young women of the household. It's a working garment. You'll be getting something better soon, once the seamstress has had a chance to take a fitting."

Kevla's lip trembled and her eyes welled with tears. She gulped and forced them back. "Of course," she said. "A servant to the khashima must reflect her mistress's style and wealth." She slipped the rhia on, but despite her attempt to sound worldly, her small brown hands kept touching the fabric.

Sahlik plaited her hair, clucking her tongue at its coarseness and shaggy length.

"You will need a few days before you are ready to serve the mistress," she said.

"This hair must be cut and oiled repeatedly. And these hands-you will stop biting your nails at once. Yeshi likes long, painted nails and she likes for her women to have them too."