A cold wind blew down from the mountains, rattling the shutters. Nightfall was close. Kaya pulled the long shovel from the oven and dropped one last load of hot stones into the double-walled pedalcart. "That's it, then." She pushed down the lid and turned around to Slunyew, who was fastening up his cloak while rumbling his readiness and agreement.

A deep glow came into Kaya's eyes. Was it sheer luck that the first person who had responded to her talks on the Choosing had also turned out to be the best? Becoming more and more deeply involved every day?

Kaya gave the pedalcart a proud and happy clap. "You're going round to the southern quarters again tonight?"

"Yes, I am." Slunyew peered into the box to reassure himself that Kaya had filled it only halfway, so that it wouldn't be too heavy for him. With a nod, Slunyew pulled the flaps of his fur hat down over his ears. "It's a week since I've been, and things went rather well last time. People were interested. Skeptical too, of course. But, interested. Let's see how far things have progressed with them in the meantime. Whether they've been talking about the Choosing, to their families, their friends. Whether some may be ready to host a gathering. Only to explain things more properly, of course? Nobody needs to commit to anything beforehand. You know. I'll just give it a try. And report back afterward." Slunyew grinned at Kaya, then swung himself onto the cart and pedaled off into the falling night.

Kaya stood in the open door. The wind howled in, making a cloud of dust rise up in front of the oven where it glowed like a fiery spirit.

* * *

The dark gray sky made even the elegant homes of the owners appear gloomy and threatening. Naydeer was pacing up and down her study, her hands clasped at her back, her eyes hard.

The young man by the door gave his report in a low, raspy voice. He was pale, even for a white-skinned lad, and his hair was arranged meticulously, as if he had worked some special magic to make sure not a single one could move out of place. His eyes were on the floor, his gestures restrained and oddly angular.

Finally, he came to the end of his account. He cleared his throat and waited, his posture stiff and rigid.

Naydeer had stopped pacing and stood in front of the window, looking out. A cold wind was howling through the garden, tearing violently at the branches.

Naydeer spoke in an expressionless voice, without turning around. But her words reached the young man without fail.

"Send someone, Joonster."

* * *

Herun walked up to the door of his neighbor's house and knocked softly. A boy of about five opened, peering out into the cold.

"Hello." Herun ruffled the child's hair as he entered. "How is your father?"

"The same," the boy said, pointing to the bed.

Herun stepped closer. His worried eyes rested on the thin, frail form of a man with gray skin and shallow breathing. Herun's voice was soft, half a whisper. "Quinetopu?"

The invalid's eyes flickered open. His hand moved slightly, as if he wished to raise it. But it fell back and stayed where it was. Herun sighed. This was how they had brought Quinetopu home from the mine. It was not getting better.

Herun turned around. "Will you fetch your brother?" he asked the boy. "I have brought fresh warmlings and some food. I can help Quinetopu with his soup while the two of you eat."

* * *

Herun let his massive shoulder fall against the wall of the Snuggery. He rubbed a hand over his face. "Quinetopu has always been frail," he told Cahuan, his voice slow and heavy. "He was never meant for work such as the mines. He can't take it. Hard labor plus hard winters is simply too much for him. He should have been a scribe, or anything else that has him working at a desk. With the room heated and his body fed. But, things being what they are, he had none of that. And so he has worked himself to death, slowly but surely."

Herun sighed and pushed himself off the wall. "I am afraid he will not recover this time. And if he dies, his little boys will be on their own." He drew a pattern on the ground with his foot. "Except, of course, that they will be with me."

Herun looked up, holding Cahuan's gaze. "We can't wait any longer. We need a new snuggery. Now."

* * *

An icy wind had been coming down from the mountains for days, freezing the valley, making its inhabitants hunch their shoulders and shiver under their cloaks. Only now it relented, diminishing its wailing howl among the roofs, allowing human sounds to take over again.

Little Quena and both twins had caught a cold, and in their feverish state they made their suffering and unhappiness known loudly and frequently. Lhut and Cahuan were trying to comfort them while keeping everyone else from catching the fever.

On top of it, Pulan and Som were having some sort of relationship crisis, alternating between loud quarrels and icy sulking, the tension filling every last corner of the room. Finally, Cahuan had requested each of them to go to a friend in the Mansion and ask if they could stay there for the night. And four of the younger ones were over at the elder's place anyway.

Nevertheless. It was one of those days.

Cahuan felt drained and was quite glad to leave the Snuggery in the evening to respond to Manaam's call. Thank goodness Kaya had come by after her last warmling round to back up Lhut.

Cahuan took her time walking across Shebbetin, stopping on the way to breathe and to take a look at the sky. She was somewhat restored by the time she arrived.

Perched on a windowsill in the parlor, Cahuan looked at Manaam expectantly. "I thought we were all set with the legal texts for the snuggery bag. Has something else occurred to you?"

"Yes," Manaam said stiffly. "Something else has occurred to me. And I am loath to speak about it."

He stood behind a high armchair, holding on to its back. "It is not about the legal papers, though. Those are fine, as far as I can see." He paused. "It is about the party."

The chair scraped over the floor as Manaam pushed it back and forth. "It is quite obvious, in a way. And yet. It had not occurred to me to pay attention. But I need to. For even if we could avoid it at that party—this issue will come up sooner or later."

He looked at Cahuan uncertainly. "Perhaps you know already. Perhaps you have realized long ago." His fingers dug into the ornate cloth covering the chair. "But maybe you have not, or pushed it to the back of your mind as much as I have, and will be shocked beyond measure when I tell you now."

Manaam turned and accidentally pulled the cover off with his move, revealing the hideous upholstery underneath. "I hope not. I hope you will not turn away from me." He twisted the cloth into an untidy ball and threw it back onto the chair. "I do not know. But the best I can do is to be honest with you. About who I am and what I will do. Even if... it is not pretty."

He fell silent.

Cahuan got up from the windowsill and moved over to Manaam. She stood close beside him and gently laid a hand on his shoulder. His arm came up around her waist. But his body was tense. "Yes," he said. "Precisely. This is what it is about."

Manaam pulled back slightly. "We are very close. But I will not own up to it in public. I will not stand by you. In the company of the other owners, I will belong to them, not to you. I will behave like that and to a certain extent, I will even feel like that. Otherwise I could not keep it up. I am not a great actor. I can only show myself as I actually am."

He licked his lips. "So I will show condescending benevolence just like the other owners do, and as they expect of me. A detached arrogance. I will speak and act, and even feel and think as if I were part of a group of somewhat superior people. I will carry on as if all the wealth I have somehow proved that I deserve it."

He ran a hand through his hair. A golden earring blinked between the inky strands. "All that conceit will be masked in polite conversation and gestures of generosity, but in reality even all that form only serves to rub in the point once more. Not only am I rich and therefore entitled to wealth, I even have the superior manners to treat you civilly. How adorable of me. And how much humble admiration for me and rightful deprecation of yourself it should inspire in you."

Manaam looked down at his feet. His throat felt dry. "So. That is what I will do. I will not own up to the depth of our friendship. I will not show it, nor allow you to show it. I will cast you off in public. I will act like a stranger, and not allow anyone to see that I consider you my equal. Or that I love you."

He cast a shy glance up at her, then lowered his lashes.

Cahuan sat down. She perched on the corner of the chair, beside the ball of crumpled cloth, and let her finger trace the lines on the upholstery.

Then she shrugged. "You said, 'in public.' But it is only the owners, isn't it? What's that to me?" The corner of her mouth bent into a dismissive crook. "The owners are not the world. Nor 'the public.' They are just some people. And: your people, not mine. I do not have to see them every day, and am not held spellbound by their opinion. I already know that I disagree with them. They believe, implicitly, that not everyone is equal, and that they are somehow worthier than others. I do not think they are, nor do I find that kind of attitude attractive in people. So I do not care for them overmuch. Nor for their views."

Cahuan gripped the back of the chair, just where Manaam's fingers had been a moment before. "They hold power over you, over your perception and self-image. They do not have the same kind of dominion over me. They rule your thoughts much more than mine. I am not defined by their judgment."

She gave the chair a negligent tap and stood up, planting her feet firmly on the ground. "Fortunately, I spend my days surrounded by friends who have absolutely no doubt that I am their equal and that everyone else is too. That is how I live my life. It is very pleasant, and very reassuring. This is how I want my world to be. It my truth, and I feel it, hear it, am immersed in it every day."

She rocked back on her heels, letting her strong round body sway like a gentle tide, then brought her full weight to a rest on the floor again. "Having that sound foundation within me, perhaps I can handle a short moment with some weird people. If I can see it coming and keep my inner distance from the start, maybe it will not uproot me."

She cocked her head. "So it is good of you to warn me. For it would have caught me unawares, in spite of everything I know about you, about your position in this little circle of polite society."

Her eyes narrowed. "All of that adds up to what you just described. But somehow I had not thought it through, not made the connections."

The light outside shifted with the moving clouds, and sent a wave of gold-green hues over Cahuan's cheek. "But now I can prepare. And make sure I won't get hurt." There was a spark in her eye as she looked at him.

Manaam held her gaze. Then he gingerly reached for her hand and pressed it against his heart. "Thank you," he said hoarsely. "This is the best I could have hoped for."

He touched his lips to her fingertips. "I am immensely relieved." With tender regard, he ran a hand through her hair, burying himself amid thick, green-black strands that fell down her back like waves of seaweed. His eyes were warm, but a wry pain still creased the corners. "As usual, I wonder if this is quite right. If I am not simply shifting a burden I find too heavy to bear onto you."

Manaam arched an eyebrow. "How come you are the one to ensure this is not hurtful? Why can't I live in a way that does not create this kind of situation in the first place?"

He sighed. "But I cannot. I am where I am. The best thing I managed was to be honest." His mouth twitched. "And that is already not bad. I should give myself due credit for that."

Manaam drew a breath. "For the rest, you are the one with the solution. The one who is strong and free, rather than weak and imprisoned."

"Hmm. Yes." Cahuan's voice was as melodious as a peal of chimes. "However, you are welcome in the land of the free any time. The doors of poverty are open to everyone. All the things you would lose are things I already do not have."

The hand in her hair made a small move in the direction of a fist. Manaam groaned. He pulled her head back to look at her. Cahuan's eyes were green as a forest pond, with streaks of golden sunlight falling in. And far, far down in the depths, like a sunken treasure almost out of sight, shone a warm, enigmatic smile.