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mid-thigh. Her arms and legs and feet were bare, and she wore no rings or other ornaments. She was young, and comely, and in all ways desirable.
    "Forgive me," Seltin said again, hearing her voice crack. "I am commanded to trim here and in other places specifically shown to me by my master." She moved an unsteady arm, meaning to indicate the vines among which she knelt, and beyond, to the east and the south.
    "Not so," the other woman said, gently. "That is in violation of our accord. Go you and say to your master that the Kapoori yet tend what is theirs."
    There was something--very compelling about those colorless eyes, that pale, emotionless face, and it was only with a major application of will that Seltin was able to look aside, her fingers rising of their own accord, to touch the marks of her slavery.
    "Forgive me," she whispered, for a third time. "My master's instructions were extremely clear. If I say to him that the Kapoori warn him away from what is theirs, he will only--beat--me and have me back here tomorrow."
    Silence, long enough for Seltin to reflect upon her status as a bond-slave--and wilt where she knelt in the dirt.
    Cool fingers fingers slipped beneath her chin, turning her face, gently, but with unexpected strength, until she looked up once more into those still, peculiar eyes. The fingers moved, brushing the threads woven into her throat. Seltin shivered, and bit her tongue, lest she cry out.
    "Your master is harsh, if he will beat you for carrying a message," the other commented. "What are you called, child?"
    "Seltin," she whispered. "Seltin vos'Taber."
    A frown marred the smoothness of the other woman's face. "That is no name from within the House," she said. "What is your craft?"
    "I am--I was a chemist, with a specialty in exotic foodstuffs and--and inebriants."
    The frown deepened. "One would believe that the House has an overabundance of chemists, and no need to add more." She moved her shapely shoulders, as if to cast off curiosity. "What is your master called, then?"
    "Zanith vel'Albren," Seltin answered, hating even to speak the syllables.
    "And that
is
name from within the House, in truth, though he who bears it is unknown to me."
    She stepped back, her hands falling to her side.
    "This bears consideration," she said solemnly, and moved a hand toward the house. "Go thou, and trouble our vines no more this day."
    That, at least, she was able to do. Seltin bowed until her forehead touched the ground and she breathed in the smell of humus and leaf.
    "I will, lady," she stammered--and dared to look up. "Lady, what is your--" she began, but the words died in her mouth.
    She was alone with her samples and the breeze in the living vines. There was not so much as the impression of a dainty bare foot in the spongy soil to bear witness to the fact of her visitor.
    *
    "She is hight Seltin vos'Taber," Pinori said from her seat on the old stone fence, keeping a respectful distance from Katauba and her work. "She is not of the House, though she serves one of the House. I found her both humble and mannerly."
    "This is happy news," Katauba said, the vines she worked upon undulating in pleasure. "So, she will no longer interfere in our domain?"
    Pinori bit her lip, looked down at her hands, and said nothing.
    Katauba turned her head, amber eyes piercing. "Do you say that she defies your command? I would scarce hold that mannerly or humble."
    "Nay, nay!" Pinori looked up hastily. "She is not mistress of her own life! She does as she is commanded by her master--and will, I warrant, whether or no she would, until the doom is drawn from her skin."
    Her sister frowned, and straightened. The vines reached after her, twining about her hands, her wrists. "You say to me that this person is a mere kobold?"
    "A natural human, as I judge her," Pinori stood, her own hands raised before her, fingers spread wide. "Here, I tell my tale badly. It would seem that Seltin vos'Taber, natural human though she be, is bound in service