“Cousin! Cousin!”

Her ears puzzled over the strange word. Her mind made a funny twist, and suddenly she was staring at her feet in the middle of a dusty, stinking, filthy pit of demons wondering why she was hearing true speech again. She looked up. In the fenced area in front of her huddled about twenty children, very young, dressed in little more than rags and looking thin and dirty. She saw him immediately because his dark hair and coloring and features were instantly familiar. He was a boy of the tribes, no more than eleven years of age, someone like her taken as a slave and sold away into demon land.

“I like the look of that one,” said Girish, following her gaze. He pointed at the boy. “Where’s it from?”

The merchant shrugged. “Western tribes. There are so many of them out there, and they’re all savages. I bought it on the Qin borderlands. You can see it’s not a demon, not like that one you have there. I’ll purchase her from you. Female demons are rare, I don’t mind saying.”

“Not for sale.” Girish had a hefty pouch of coin in his hand. She’d never seen him with so much coin. He was usually begging for more, but not now. With a satisfied smirk, he counted out silver into the merchant’s open hand. “Send that boy and the other three I indicated to Ramda’s house. You know the place.”

The merchant frowned uneasily, scratched his ear with his free hand, and sighed as he closed his hand over the payment. “If you say so, Master. It’s just that Ramda’s house is known for—”

“Eh? What’s that?”

“Nothing, Master. I hear you can get a good smoke there. I’ll have them there by this evening.”

A small voice trembled from the huddle of child slaves, speaking words no one but she could understand. “Cousin! Can you hear me? Aren’t you of the tribes?”

Girish yanked so hard on the leash she fell onto her buttocks. Laughing, he dragged on her so she had to scramble backward on heels and forearms trying to get turned around as he cut back through the slave market. Eventually he tired of the joke and let her clamber to her feet.

“Come on, come on.” He took a brisk pace, humming and giggling, until they reached the Mei compound.

“Mountain!” he shouted. “Mountain! I want a bath. Right away, you fat oaf!” He slapped her. “Demon, brew me some tea. You know how I like it.” He strode off.

She remained in the family courtyard, shaking as with a fever. The boy’s hopeful, frightened, desperate gaze burned in her mind’s eye.

One never knows what gifts a stranger will bring. She touched the beaded nets that capped the ends of her braids. The memory of the boy’s gaze was enough to make her remember Mariya and Orphan and Kontas and the tribe, when after all this time she had forgotten.

“Cornflower?”

The master’s youngest brother paused while walking across the paved courtyard. Shai was the worst of them, because he stared the most at her when he thought no one was looking.