there with the children. The brothers sent the children away, and asked that Modh come. Mal stayed in her room.
“Ralo ten Bal wants Mal for his wife,” Alo said. He looked at Modh, forestalling whatever she might say. “We said she is very young, and has not been well. He says he will not sleep with her until she is fifteen. He will have her looked after with every attention. He wants to marry her now so that no other man may compete with him for her.”
“And so raise her price,” Nata said, with unusual sharpness. She had been the object of such a bidding war, which was why the Belens had all but beggared themselves to buy her.
“The price the Bals offer now could not be matched by any house in the City,” Alo said gravely. “Seeing we were unwilling, they at once increased what they offered, and increased it again. It is the largest bride-bargain I ever heard of. Larger than yours, Nata.” He looked with a strange smile at his wife, half pride half shame, rueful, intimate. Then he looked at his mother and at Modh. “They offer all the fields of Nuila. Their western orchards. Five Root houses on Wall Street. The new silk factory. And gifts—jewelry, fine garments, gold.” He looked down. “It is impossible for us to refuse,” he said.
“We will be nearly as wealthy as we used to be,” Bela said.
“Nearly as wealthy as the Bals,” Alo said, with the same rueful twist to his mouth.
“They thought we were bargaining. It was ridiculous. Every time I began to speak, old Loho ten Bal would hold up his hand to stop me and add something to the offer!” He glanced at Bela, who nodded and laughed.
“Have you spoken to Tudju?” Modh said.
“Yes,” Bela answered.
“She agrees?” The question was unnecessary. Bela nodded.
“Ralo will not mistreat your sister, Modh,” Alo said seriously. “Not after paying such a price for her. He’ll treat her like a golden statue. They all will. He is sick with desire for her. I never saw a man so infatuated. It’s odd, he’s barely seen her, only at your wedding. But he’s enthralled.”
“He wants to marry her right away?” Nata asked.
“Yes. But he won’t touch her till she’s fifteen. If we’d asked him he might have promised never to touch her at all!”
“Promises are easy,” Nata said.
“If he does lie with her it won’t kill her,” Bela said. “It might do her good. She’s been spoiled here. You spoil her, Modh. A man in her bed may be what she needs.”
“But—
that man
—” Modh said, her mouth dry, her ears ringing.
“Ralo’s a bit spoiled himself. There’s nothing wrong with him.”
“He—” She bit her lip. She could not say the words.
Bela was keeping her from turning back to pick up the baby, jabbing his sword at her, dragging her by the arm. Mal was crying and stumbling behind them in the dust, up the steep hill, among the trees.
They all sat in uncomfortable silence.
“So,” Alo said, louder than necessary, “there will be another wedding.”
“When?”
“Before the Sacrifice.”
Another silence.
“We mean no harm to come to Mal,” Alo said to Modh. “Be sure of that, Modh. Tell her that.”
She sat unable to move or speak.
“Neither of you has ever been mistreated,” Bela said, resentfully, as if answering an accusation. His mother frowned at him and clicked her tongue. He reddened and fidgeted.
“Go speak to your sister, Modh,” Hehum said. Modh got up. As she stood she saw the walls and tapestries and faces grow small and bright, sparkling with little lights. She walked slowly and stopped in the doorway.
“I am not the one to tell her,” she said, hearing her own voice far away.
“Bring her here then,” Alo said.
She nodded; but when she nodded the walls kept turning around her, and reaching out for support, she fell in a half-faint.
Bela came to her and cradled her in his arms. “Little fox, little fox,” he murmured. She heard him say angrily to Alo, “The sooner the