Mara and Dann

"You mean, your children, and then Da

"They wanted to play with the other children, but Kulik came and said, Keep your brats to yourself."

Mara left Da

Then Mara said, "But your children are all right. They grew up. No one hurt them."

"Plenty tried to. And when I'd got them through it all, they went away. I know they had to. I wanted them to." Daima sat weeping, not trying to stop herself.

"I won't go away, I promise," said Mara. "I'll never leave you alone with these horrible Rock People, never, never."

"I won't go away," piped up Da

Da

And the rest of the day was spent reassuring Da

Now Daima said it was time to show Mara how to do everything. How to look after the milk beast, Mishka. How to make milk go sour in a certain way. How to make cheese. How to look in the grasses for the tiny plants that showed where the sweet yellow roots were, deep below. Which green plants could be picked to cook as vegetables. How to make candles. And soon Daima said Mara should know where the money was hidden.

"If you were going to hide money, Mara, where would you put it?"

Mara thought. "Not in the room where the water tank is, or anywhere near where the food is. And not in this room, because people can come in so easily. Not in the thatch, because grass can burn. Not somewhere out of the house, because people would see when you went to look for it. And not in one of the empty rooms, because people would expect that."

A long pause.

"Where, then?" persisted Daima. But Mara could not guess.

In a corner of this room stood a bundle of big floor candles. The biggest ones were as thick as Mara's chest. One that looked just like all the others was quite smooth at the bottom; but when you scraped off a layer and pulled out a plug of candle, there was a hole, and in it a leather bag with coins in it. They were gold, quite small but heavy, and there were fifty of them. Mara remembered that at home the People wore big, heavy ornaments of this stuff, gold, and she herself had been given when she was born a bracelet made of these same coins, which she knew was very valuable. Where was it now? But her old life in the great, airy palace in its gardens seemed every day more of a dream and harder to remember. And she had had another name. What was it? She asked Daima if she knew what her name and Da

Often Mara climbed on Daima's lap, but when Da

"Perhaps it will rain," Mara implored Daima, who said, "Well, perhaps it will."

Soon Mishka began giving much less milk. Some mornings there was hardly any. There was something in the way Rabat smiled and looked that made Mara ask if perhaps Rabat was going out at night to steal milk. Daima said yes, she thought so. She said to Mara, "Don't be too hard. She has nothing to eat."

"Why doesn't she go out and dig up roots, the way we do?"

Daima sighed and said that it was no good expecting people to do what they couldn't do.

"Why can't she?"

Daima lowered her voice, though they were alone, and said, "She's a bit simple-minded." And then, lower still, "That's why the others have never wanted anything to do with her. And why she was glad to be friends with me." She gave the grim smile that Mara had learned to dread. "Two outcasts."

"Will Mishka give more milk when it rains?"

"Yes, but she is getting old and it is time she was mated. Her milk will dry up altogether soon if she isn't." "Why can't she be mated?"

"Kulik owns the only male milk beast, and he won't let it mate with ours."

Mara was in such a tumult of feelings: she had just taken in that Daima's only friend all these years was a loony woman; and now, how cruel Kulik was.

She went off into the room where her rock bed was, and lay on it, and turned her face to the wall and thought hard. She knew she could not tell Daima what she wanted to do, because she would say no. She waited until Daima had gone out with Da

It was difficult to walk towards them, seeing how their faces grew hard as she got near. This is the look she had seen on the faces of Rock People all her life when any of the People were near. Their eyes were narrowed, their mouths tight and angry.

She made herself smile, but not too much, and stood in front of Kulik. She said, "Please, our Mishka needs to be mated." In spite of herself, her voice was weak and her lips trembled.

First there were looks between the men, who were surprised. Then they laughed: ugly, short laughter, like barks. Then they all stared at her, their faces hard again. Kulik, however, had a grin on his face, and his teeth showed.

Mara said, her voice stumbling, "My little brother, he needs the milk." Kulik narrowed his eyes, stared hard, kept his thin, ugly grin, and said, "And what do I get in exchange?" "I don't think we've got anything. I could get some roots for you." More laughter from the men.

"I wasn't thinking of roots," said Kulik. Then slowly, and with his face so full of hatred for her she could hardly keep standing there in front of him, "Down on your knees, Mahondi brat, down on your knees and beg."

At first Mara was not sure what he wanted her to do, but she dropped to her knees in the dust, and when she looked at him she could hardly see through her tears.

"Now bend right down, three times," said Kulik.

Mara had to think again, but she bent down once, twice, three times, trying to keep her hair out of the dust. On the last time she felt Kulik's big hand on her head, grinding her face down into the dirt. Then he let go. She straightened to her knees and, since he did not say anything, stood up. The dust was falling past her eyes from her head.

She said, "Please will you let Mishka be mated?"

And now a big roar of astonished laughter from all of them — except Kulik, who did not laugh this time but only gri