"Get up," Ittra said as she yanked the warm blanket off Wren's body. Wren bolted upright, cursing under her breath, and stared the old woman in her beady eyes.

"I was sleeping," Wren said.

"You think I didn't know that? We have things to do. I want to introduce you to some friends of mine."

Wren grumbled a bit, but she knew there was no use in arguing. Ittra was already letting them stay in her house, and even though Wren hated it here already, they'd be out on the street otherwise. She ran her hands through her hair. It still felt short and spiky and foreign in a way that made Wren shudder.

She'd scarcely pulled her sandals on when Ittra grabbed her arm and tugged her outside. Wren's eyes widened in alarm and she tore her arm out of Ittra's. She gave her a wild look. UIttra just kept walking.

"Where are we going?" Wren demanded.

"You'll see," Ittra said. She stopped and sighed. "This isn't a good place for marked ones, Wren, especially not women. I need a place for you to be during the day that's safe. I wish I could hide you in the house but I can't."

 Ittra's eyes softened slightly, then returned to that same hardened glint Wren remembered. Something about her had changed. She still had that terrifying halo of frizzy grey hair tied back in a bun, and she still stooped like her back bothered her most of the time. But she looked haggard, now. Like she'd seen more than she wanted to.

"But my friends--" Wren began.

"Oh, hush, girl. You mean the scraggly one you were supposed to marry before he ran off with my nephew and that boy you clearly don't get along with?" Wren opened her mouth to protest, then shut it, because Ittra didn't stop talking. "You aren't very quiet, either of you. I heard the whole thing. You can see them in the evenings like everyone else that has a job."

Wren's eyebrows crinkled. "I thought you said--"

"--It's both, come on."

They ducked down a side alleyway and Ittra stopped in front of a towering building. Wren looked up. It had at least three different floors above their head, and the windows were large and open, although she couldn't see anyone inside. She swallowed. What kind of people lived in a place this large?

Ittra rapped on the heavy wooden door three times with her fist. There was a scuffling and it opened. Wren stepped back. A woman with a pair of gossamer-like golden wings jutting out of her back studied them intently. Her eyes were a pale, robin's egg blue and her skin was lined from years of abuse and sun exposure. She was dressed in a set of red robes that barely covered enough to be considered well-dressed. Well-placed golden curls coiled around her head.

"Ittra? I thought you were done with trade." 

"I am," Ittra replied. "But this girl needs a place, and I don't mean one to sleep. I don't have one for her."

"Fine, come in," the woman answered, and she ushered them inside and shut the door behind her. Wren stepped over the threshold to reveal an expensive-looking room. There was a red and gold rug sprawled out across the floor and upon it sat silk cushions, each one of them clean and immaculately embroidered. Two girls sat at a table, staring intently at the gameboard carved into its surface.

"Introduce yourself," Ittra whispered, and she jabbed Wren hard in the ribs with her elbow. Wren squeaked and turned toward the woman.

"Wren," she said, as she awkwardly stuck her hand out. The woman eyeballed it.

"Marion," she replied, and she turned her head. "Phina!" she shouted down a hallway, and one of the back doors opened and out stepped a girl. She narrowed her eyes at them.

"Calm yourself, Marion, I'm coming," the girl shouted back down the hall, and she walked over to them with no indication of hurry. Her face was long and narrow, and her skin was several shades darker than Marion's. A set of jade green wings shimmered in the light like glass. She regarded Wren with indifference, hazel eyes scanning her as if she were a new plaything. "What's this?" she asked. Wren shivered. 

"She needs a place, and I don't mean a place to stay," Marion said in the exact same tone Ittra had. Wren turned her eyes to the floor.

"And?" Phina said expectantly. She brushed a curled strand of brown hair out of her face and folded her arms. Wren noticed that Phina was not wearing any shoes, or much of anything else, either. Her skirt barely reached her knees, and it was tied on with bits of string. Her top left her entire midriff exposed. Wren flushed.

"...And I want you to show her around," Marion said as she shooed both of them away with her hand. "Don't scare her."

Phina made a noise like an annoyed cat and wandered off down the hall. Wren followed only because she could feel the eyes of the other women burning into the back of her skull. The hallway was made of rough-hewn stone, the type she'd never seen in the desert before. She wondered how long it had been standing. She ran her hands along its surface as they quickly turned the corner and approached a spiral staircase.

"It's nothing personal," Phina said. "I just don't know what it is she wants me to show you, exactly." She started up the stairs, the cloth skirt swaying around her waist as if it might come loose while she ascended. Wren followed. Something about the cold stone walls made her feel small and afraid.

"What do you do here?" she asked, because it hadn't occurred to her until now that she had no idea, and that this many marked women in one place didn't make sense, either. In the caravan they existed singularly, competing with each other more than coalescing. She shivered and wrapped her fingers around her elbows.

"Lots of things," Phina said as she turned and locked her eyes on Wren, who looked away almost immediately. "Learn secrets. Eliminate problems if someone asks and pays well. Some of us cook, or clean. Mostly I sleep with men for money." She smirked. "The first two go along with the last."

Wren's face flushed a deep scarlet and she fought the urge to turn and run down the staircase. "Excuse me?" she said. The memory of the man's groans as she drove her dagger over and over into his abdomen ran a cold chill up her spine. She couldn't imagine ever doing it for payment.

"Oh, that's adorable," Phina said in a voice that grated on the inside of Wren's ears. "No one told you, did they? Don't look so shocked. You don't have to if you don't want. I'm sure we can find some pots to scrub or some books to keep assuming you're smart enough."

Wren thought she might be sick. The room spun for just a moment and she grabbed the railing to get her balance.

"I'm fine," she said, though she very clearly was not. Phina didn't seem to care. She kept walking down the hallway.

"Oh, come now, you're not the only girl that's come in from a caravan," she said. "I know how they are out there. Your mother wanted you to marry some man and then have a baby every year until you went barren, didn't she?"

Wren's cheeks burned. She had a sudden urge to slap the girl and an even more sudden wish she was back at Ittra's dilapidated apartment with Rannok and Elyn. She wondered whether she'd be forced to come back if she just turned and ran away now.

"Please don't talk about my mother," she said, and her voice lowered. Phina gave her a sideways glance and stopped short in the hallway.

"Look," she said, arms folded, eyes more soft than angry. "Don't worry, we aren't going to take your friends or your family or Ittra away from you. Frankly I don't care. But I suggest you get used to whatever it is you aren't used to if you want to do anything past baking bread." She paused. "Not that there is anything wrong with that, and we won't judge you one way or the other. But it's your choice how much power you have here."

Wren nodded and followed Phina down the cold stone hallway. She felt it contract around her like a vice. She swallowed hard. The thought of the dying man's eyes as they glossed over and then fell flat made her cringe. She swore to herself that she'd never do that again, not in this lifetime. Now she felt as if she didn't have any other choice.