Raven took the money and folded her hand quickly around it, probably because the offer shamed her even though she needed it. “Well.” Raven gave me a brave little smile. “I suppose I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“It’s only for a little while,” I promised.

Raven nodded slowly to herself, but she looked so much older, with a quiver to her chin. She got to her feet unsteadily, patted my cheek, and shuffled from the room. When she had gone, Sid took one look at my face and said impatiently, “For gods’ sake. It’s not like she is going to die without you.”

“It’s hard for her to give me up. She loves me.”

“She sold you,” Sid snapped. I said nothing in reply, because it was clear that she didn’t understand, and didn’t want to.

“I am so jealous,” Annin said. She had burst into my room telling me that she wanted to help me pack, then looked at my clothes and told me that if I took them with me she would kill me, they were so impoverished of any beauty, any joy, any life.

“I wear them every day,” I said.

“Not one day more! You can’t wear this in the High quarter. You would look like a stillborn mouse. Like a sick wren. Like an old woman! Like Sirah the rain-sayer. Please, Nirrim. For my sake. Promise that you will wear gorgeous clothes and think of me. Your mistress will give them to you. She is so kind.”

“Is she?” I wondered out loud, remembering how cold she had been to Raven.

“Of course! Look.” From her pocket Annin pulled the pink lace scarf I had seen earlier in Sid’s trunk.

“Oh,” I said.

“Don’t you think it’s beautiful?”

Sid barely knew Annin, yet she had given a gift perfectly suited to please her. I felt an unpleasant, jealous twinge. I looked into Annin’s eager, pretty face. “You can’t wear it,” I told her. “It’s High.”

Her face fell a little, but she just stroked the scarf and said, “I can wear it in my room.”

“What’s the point if no one will see you?”

“I will see.”

“You don’t have a mirror.”

“I will know I am wearing it,” she insisted, clutching the scarf, and it reminded me of the rag I had cherished once, the one from Helin’s dress. I brushed a loose tendril out of Annin’s face. “You’re right,” I said. “Of course you will. It’s the perfect color for you.”

She beamed. “Isn’t it?”