What am I thinking of? she wondered. I don’t even know how to fight with a knife.

“Mistress Snake?” The voice was so soft she could barely hear it.

Turning, Snake sat bolt upright, fully awake, her fist relaxing even as reflex had clenched it.

“What — Melissa?”

“Yes, mistress.”

“Thank gods you spoke — I almost hit you.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t really mean to wake you up. I just… I wanted to be sure…”

“Is anything wrong?”

“No, but I didn’t know if you were all right. I always see lights up here and I thought nobody went to bed till way late. I thought maybe I could ask somebody. Only… I couldn’t. I better go.”

“No, wait.” Snake’s eyes were better accustomed to the darkness and she could see Melissa’s form, the ghost of faint light on the sun-bleached streaks in her red hair; and she could smell the pleasant odor of hay and clean horses.

“It was sweet of you to come all this way to ask about me.” She drew Melissa closer, leaned down, and kissed her forehead. The thick curly bangs could not completely hide the irregularity of scar tissue beneath them.

Melissa stiffened and pulled away. “How can you stand to touch me?”

“Melissa, dear—” Snake reached out and turned up the light before Melissa could stop her. The child turned away. Snake took her by the shoulder and gently brought her around until they were facing each other. Melissa would not look at her.

“I like you. I always touch the people I like. Other people would like you, too, if you gave them a chance.”

“That’s not what Ras says. He says nobody in Mountainside wants to look at uglies.”

“Well, I say Ras is a hateful person, and I say he has other reasons for making you afraid of everyone. He takes credit for what you do, doesn’t he? He pretends he’s the one who gentles the horses and rides them.”

Melissa shrugged, her head down so the scar was less visible.

“And the fire,” Snake said. “What really happened? Gabriel said Ras saved the horses, but you’re the one who got hurt.”

“Everybody knows a little eight-year-old kid couldn’t get horses out of a fire,” Melissa said.

“Oh, Melissa…”

“I don’t care!”

“Don’t you?”

“I get a place to live. I get to eat. I get to stay with the horses, they don’t mind…”

“Melissa, gods! Why do you stay here? People need more than food and somewhere to sleep!”

“I can’t leave. I’m not fourteen.”

“Did he tell you you’re bound to him? Bonding isn’t allowed in Mountainside.”

“I’m not a bondservant,” Melissa said irritably. “I’m twelve. How old did you think I was?”

“I thought you were about twelve,” Snake said, not wanting to admit how much younger she had really thought Melissa was. “What difference does that make?”

“Could you go where you wanted when you were twelve?”

“Yes, of course I could. I was lucky enough to be in a place I didn’t want to leave, but I could have gone.”

Melissa blinked. “Oh,” she said. “Well… here it’s different. If you leave, your guardian comes after you. I did it once and that’s what happened.”

“But why?”

“Because I can’t hide,” Melissa said angrily. “You think people wouldn’t mind, but they told Ras where I was so he’d take me back—”

Snake reached out and touched her hand. Melissa fell silent.

“I’m sorry,” Snake said. “That isn’t what I meant. I meant what gives anyone the right to make you stay where you don’t want to? Why did you have to hide? Couldn’t you just take your pay and go where you wanted?”

Melissa laughed sharply. “My pay! Kids don’t get paid. Ras is my guardian. I have to do what he says. I have to stay with him. That’s law.”

“It’s a terrible law. I know he hurts you — the law wouldn’t make you stay with someone like him. Let me talk to the mayor, maybe he can fix it so you can do what you want.”

“Mistress, no!” Melissa flung herself down at the side of the bed, kneeling, clutching the sheets. “Who else would take me? Nobody! They’d leave me with him, but they would’ve made me say bad things about him. And then he’ll just, he’ll just be meaner. Please don’t change anything!”

Snake drew her from her knees and put her arms around her, but Melissa huddled in on herself, pulling back from Snake’s embrace, then, suddenly, flinching forward with a sharp gasp as Snake, releasing her, slid her hand across the child’s shoulder blade.

“Melissa, what is it?”

“Nothing!”

Snake loosened Melissa’s shirttail and looked at her back. She had been beaten with a piece of leather, or a switch: something that would hurt but not draw blood, not prevent Melissa from working.

“How—” She stopped. “Oh, damn. Ras was angry at me, wasn’t he? I reprimanded him and just got you into trouble, didn’t I?”

“Mistress Snake, when he wants to hit, he hits. He doesn’t plan it. It’s the same whether it’s me or the horses.” She stepped back, glancing at the door.

“Don’t go. Stay here tonight. Tomorrow we can think of something to do.”

“No, please, mistress, it’s all right. Never mind. I’ve been here all my life. I know how to get along. Don’t do anything. Please. I’ve got to go.”

“Wait—”

But Melissa slipped out of the room. The door closed behind her. By the time Snake climbed out of bed and stumbled after her, she was halfway to the stairs. Snake supported herself against the doorjamb, leaning out into the hall. “We have to talk about this!” she called, but Melissa ran silently down the stairs and vanished.

Snake limped back to her luxurious bed, got under her warm blankets, and turned down the lamp, thinking of Melissa out in the dark, chilly night. Awakening slowly, Snake lay very still, wishing she could sleep through the day and have it over. She was so seldom sick that she had difficulty making herself take it easy when she was ill. Considering the stern lectures she had given Gabriel’s father, she would make quite a fool of herself if she did not follow her own advice now. Snake sighed. She could work hard all day; she could make long journeys on foot or on horseback, and she would be all right. But anger and adrenalin and the violence of a fight combined against her.

Gathering herself, she moved slowly. She caught her breath and froze. The ache in her right knee, where the arthritis was worst, turned sharp. Her knee was swollen and stiff and she ached in all her joints. She was used to the aches. But today, for the first time, the worst twinges had spread to her right shoulder. She lay back. If she forced herself to travel today, she would be laid up even longer soon, somewhere out on the desert. She could make herself ignore pain when that was necessary, but it took a great deal of energy and had to be paid for afterwards. Right now her body had no energy to spare.

She still could not remember where she had left her belt, nor, now that she thought about it, why she had been looking for it during the night — Snake sat up abruptly, remembering Melissa, and almost cried out. But guilt was as strong as the protests of her body. She had to do something. Yet confronting Ras would not help her young friend. Snake had seen that already. She did not know what she could do. For the moment she did not even know if she could get herself into the bathroom.

That much, at least, she managed. And her belt pouch was there as well, neatly hung on a hook with her belt and knife. As far as she recalled she had left all her things where they fell. She was slightly embarrassed, for she was not ordinarily quite so untidy.

Her forehead was bruised and the long shallow cut thickly scabbed: nothing to be done about that. Snake got her aspirin from the belt pouch, took a heavy dose, and limped back to bed. Waiting for sleep she wondered how much more frequent the arthritis attacks would get as she grew older. They were inevitable, but it was not inevitable that she would have such a comfortable place in which to recover.