“All right. So until a boy is twelve, his father can do with him what he wills. But if his father dies before he’s twelve, his life becomes even chancier. When a man dies, care of his wife and family passes to his next of kin—father, brother, uncle, cousin—no matter how distant the connection. Most often, this kinsman does not want the responsibility of another family in his household, so his first priority is to marry off the widow. Though he only has a hope of doing that if she’s still of childbearing age, because no man wants to marry if he won’t be able to produce sons. Does this all make sense so far?”

“In its way,” Nolan said grimly.

“A man who wants to have his own children has no interest in raising another man’s son. So, most often, a man who marries a widow with young children will have all the children killed. He may keep the daughters, if they are pretty enough to attract good husbands—”

“He kills them? Just like that?”

Kit nodded. “It is as if he—as if he were to drown kittens because there were too many in the litter. It happens all the time on in-country farms.”

“I never drowned a kitten. I never killed anything in my life.”

“You offered to see Jex Zanlan killed.”

“I admit that’s what I said. The truth is, I would not have been able to stop his death if you had not helped me.”

She watched him with narrowed eyes. “If you do not have power over Jex’s life,” she said slowly, “then what am I doing with you here on this train?”

“You’re taking me to see Chay Zanlan,” he set in a set, stubborn voice. “Finish your story.”

Kit resumed speaking in a subdued voice as if her mind, at first, was elsewhere. “So a widow with young children knows that her children have very little chance of survival if she is forced to remarry. And that is why so many gulden women immigrate to the city, looking for shelter. They know if they can all manage to stay alive until the oldest boys turn twelve, they are safe. To slaughter a twelve-year-old is to commit murder and be subject to a trial—and, very likely, severe punishment.”

“So that’s why there are all those stories of children killed in the ghetto,” Nolan said. “It’s all about inheritance and—and property values.”

“You’re less brutal about it in-country,” she said softly. “But your laws are just as strict. For instance, you’ll never be able to inherit property, will you?”

He shook his head slowly, dumbly. “Only through Leesa. I mean, there is property my mother will settle on me, but only when I marry. If I were to never marry, it would go to my sister or a cousin or one of their daughters.”

“And what would happen to you?”