“Yes, that’s true.” But her voice falls away, and she doesn’t meet my eyes.

I wait, hoping she’ll say more.

She heaves a sigh. “Why can’t I be useful like you, Zivah? I just sit here in my house all day, alone with my thoughts.”

“Nobody’s useless by nature. It’s just a matter of finding something to do.”

Mehtap purses her lips as a servant fills her plate. “So what can I do? If I were out of the compound, I’d be married to some official’s son. And then I’d have children. Perhaps, if I’m extra energetic, I’d pick some fashionable cause to work on with some of the other wives. Providing scarves for beggars or whatnot,” she says wryly.

“There are beggars here too,” I point out.

“You’re right. It’s far worse in here than in the poorest parts of the city. It almost seems too much to tackle.”

“It does seem overwhelming,” I say. “But I wonder if things could be better if the rules were a just a little different. If the emperor assigned just a few more soldiers to guard the place, for example…”

She looks at me thoughtfully. “Or if they allowed everyone to send letters out instead of just those who can afford their own messengers. Things would be so much better if they just treated us like people. The sickness here runs deeper than our marks. It’s a sickness of spirit.”

I’m impressed at her insight, though perhaps it’s unfair of me to underestimate her so. “I’ve been speaking with Jesmin about the quarantine. I’m not convinced it has to be so strict.”

Her smile fades a bit. “Do you think it could be changed? But that would be much more complicated than simply handing out scarves in the city. If we want to change rules, we’d need to get the ear of the emperor, or at least the imperial advisers. If I were healthy I could try to get to know some of their wives, but I’m in here….”

Her words give me an idea. “There are those within the compound who have some influence, don’t they? Utana, the former minister of health, is in the compound. Do you know him?”

“I’ve met him once or twice. He’s always been very kind.” Mehtap thinks for another moment, then gives a deliberate nod. “Very well, then. I’ll request an audience with him for the two of us.”

That went so easily I feel almost guilty. She’s cheery for the rest of the meal, and we spend the remaining time talking about some volumes of harp music Arxa had ordered for her from the Eastern Provinces. As we finish up though, Mehtap once again drifts into contemplation.

“You’re from Monyar, Zivah,” she says. “Have you seen the Shidadi before?”