One of the clan's unbreakable rules: Everyone worked. If they could draw breath, they could do something useful. Kirra had been assigned duties since she was old enough to stand upright and hold a broom.

Her first paying job started at age twelve in the mines' front office, where Elder Barret served as a depot manager. Kirra was assigned duties as a tea girl. Because she was good with her letters and loved her studies, she was granted time to continue schooling until her seventeenth year. That was later than most, and offered Kirra months of futile hope. But when the gradient arrived on her eighteenth birthday, Kirra was designated a Five, same as virtually everyone in the Stretch.

The city-state's authorities claimed in speeches, declarations, advertisements, school meetings, family gatherings and so forth that gradient assignments were both fair and without prejudice. All of which made for acid-laced humor in the Stretch. Offspring of the poorer districts rarely if ever rose above a Four. Kirra had never even met a One. Her assignment as a Five, the lowest gradient, was a lifelong condemnation. All official doors leading to a better life were shut and locked. Permanently.

Elder Barret took a personal interest in this lovely orphan, and did what she could to ensure Kirra's mathematical abilities were put to good use. Barret pretended to ignore the tears Kirra allowed no one else to see, and when further schooling was forbidden, the clan's elder personally arranged for tutors. In return, Kirra thanked her as Elder Barret expected, by working hard and learning fast. In time, when Kirra was assigned responsibilities over the mines' incoming supplies, Elder Barret showed her how to fiddle the records. Not a lot, but enough to permit a certain amount of pilfering.

Elder Barret made sure a small portion of the proceeds were passed back to Kirra. She saved everything.

By her twenty-first birthday, Kirra was dying inside. Fading away to nothing. Gradually slipping into a solitary and ghost-like existence.

Elder Barret noticed, of course. She was as watchful as she was wise. Finally, the heavyset woman took her outside, to the plaza where they could be seen and yet remain private. She told Kirra, "You're miserable."

Kirra found no need to respond.

"I was hoping your attitude would change with time. But I see now it was a futile expectation."

That was how this unlettered woman always spoke. Using a precise diction and careful wording, as if she intended her words to show that she was indeed separated from clan members by a gulf wider than merely her title. The label that in time had become her only first name.

Elder Barret continued, "We've had offers for your hand. One Fourth Ward clan in particular—"

"No."

"If we insist?" It was always "we" with Elder Barret. Never I.

She had been fearing precisely that. Kirra rose from the bench. "Thank you for the warning, Elder. You've always been kind—"

"Sit down, lass."

"Madame Silver has offered me a position."

The news about the Fifth Ward courtesan shocked Barret.

"You'd sell yourself to that woman? Spend your short life whoring?"

When Kirra remained silent, the older woman's voice rose a notch. "Forsake the clan?"

"I want out." Because it was Elder Barret, the woman who had sheltered her for years, Kirra added, "A man of power will have me as his mistress."

"You trust Silver's word?"

"She's arranged a screen-meet. Day after tomorrow. And offered me refuge while I decide."

"When were you aiming on telling me?"

"I'm telling you now. And yes, I trust her because I suspected it would come to this. Having my life bargained away. Being chained by rite and marriage law—"

"Enough." Elder Barret indicated the empty space beside her. "We're not done."

Kirra wanted to bolt. She could hear the cage door swinging shut.

Elder Barret reached out and gripped her forearm, but gently. "You owe me a few moments more."