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Melan’s spine. The girl’s hands continued their dance behind her head, undoing dozens of crossings in the silk until two separate strands reached her bido. Still the acolyte’s hands worked.
    It’s all one piece
, Inevera realized, staring in awe as Melan slowly unwove her bido. The air of a dance only increased as Melan began to step over the uncrossing strands, her bare feet tamping a steady rhythm. The silk crossed her thighs and between her legs dozens of times, layering weaves one atop another.
    Inevera had made enough baskets to know good weaving when she saw it, and this was a masterwork. Something so intricately woven could be worn all day and never come loose, and someone unskilled would likely make a botch of it and never get the weave undone.
    ‘The woven bido is like the web of flesh that safeguards your virginity,’ Qeva said, tossing Inevera a great roll of thin white silk. ‘You will wear it at all times, save for ablutions and necessaries, done here in the lowest chamber of the Vault. You will not leave the Vault under any circumstances without it, and you will be punished if it is woven improperly. Melan will teach you the weave. It should be simple enough for a basket weaver’s daughter to master.’
    Melan snorted at that, and Inevera swallowed hard and tried not to stare at the girl’s bald head as she came over. She was a few years Inevera’s senior, and very pretty without her headwrap. She held out her hands, each wrapped in at least ten feet of silk. Inevera mimicked her, and they stepped over the strip of silk between their hands, bringing it to rest across their buttocks.
    ‘The first weave is called Everam’s Guardian,’ Melan said, pulling the silk taut and crossing it over her sex. ‘It crosses seven times, one for each pillar in Heaven.’ Inevera copied her, and managed to keep up for some time before Qeva cut in.
    ‘There is a twist in the silk, begin again,’ the
dama’ting
said.
    Inevera nodded, and both girls undid the weave and started afresh. Inevera knitted her brows, doing her best to mimic the weave perfectly. Kenevah had said Melan would bear the weight of her mistakes, and she did not want the girl punished for her clumsy hands. She managed to keep up all the way to the headwrap before the
dama’ting
broke in.
    ‘Not so tight,’ Qeva said. ‘You’re tying a bido, not trying to keep a
Sharum
’s broken skull together. Do it again.’
    Melan gave Inevera a look of annoyance that made her face flush, but again they reversed course, undoing their bidos entirely before beginning anew.
    By the third repetition, Inevera had the feel of the weave. Its flow came naturally to her, and soon she and Melan stood in identical silk bidos.
    Qeva clapped her hands. ‘There might be something to you after all, girl. It took Melan months to master the bido weave, and she was one of the quicker studies. Isn’t that so, Melan?’
    ‘As the
dama’ting
says.’ Melan gave a stiff bow, and Inevera got the sense that Qeva was taunting her.
    ‘Into the bath with you,’ Qeva said. ‘The day grows long and the kitchens will soon open.’
    Inevera’s stomach rumbled at the mention of food. It had been many hours since she had eaten.
    ‘You’ll eat soon enough.’ Qeva smiled. ‘Once you and the other girls finish serving supper and scrubbing out the crockery.’
    She gave a laugh and pointed towards the source of the steam and splashing sounds. Melan undid her bido quickly and headed that way. Inevera took longer, trying not to tangle the silk, then followed, her bare feet slapping the tile.
    The passage opened up into a great pool, its water hot and the air thick with steam. There were dozens of girls inside, all of them as bald as Melan. Some were Inevera’s age, but many were older, some grown almost fully to womanhood. All stood washing in the stone bath, or lounged on the slick stone steps at its edges, shaving and paring nails.
    Inevera thought of the bucket of warm