It was a warm day, redolent of wildflowers and summer skies. All the children were roaming outside, running across the Mansion to the first meadows, or frolicking in the Snuggery courtyard.

Som sat on an upturned flowerpot, little Quena in her lap. She continued singing and nodded encouragingly at Yoor, who promptly let his voice grow stronger. Pulan whistled a high, sweet rhapsody above, while Lasa began to cluck and patter a low beat underneath.

His eyes locked with Som's, Yoor tried to keep up with the music that came so naturally to the children. And gradually, he began to sense the rhythm in his blood, to know the strange harmony that all these mountain tunes seemed to share. He almost started to feel at home in the song.

But when Kaya stepped into the courtyard, he missed a beat. His voice grew strained and thin. His eyes darted to Kaya and then away again, flitting from contact to cover. Their song came to an end.

Kaya gave Yoor a curt nod and passed on to talk to Lhut in the corner.

Yoor gave her a curt nod in return, even if to her back. He followed her with his gaze.

Then he shrugged.

Turning to Som, he offered a few tentative notes. Som picked the right one and burst into a lively summer song, instantly winning Lasa and Yoor over. Pulan couldn't stand that tune, but after some angry bird calls, she joined in with a flute-like whistle nevertheless.

Lunin came by to dance and before long, Yoor's voice was as full and rich, as unrestrained and happy as it had ever been.

* * *

A whip crashed down on the banister, and its ghost on the backs of all children in the cabin. They cringed. They shivered, the memory of that rod on their own skin vividly emblazoned on each of their young bodies, each of their tender souls.

Yunda bit her lip. It hurt. The flesh was still raw from where a strike had landed a few days before, bruising her face rather than her back when she had jerked around under her first lashing.

None of the children looked up now. Not even Yunda.

They all kept their eyes focused on their workbench, on the shiny jewels, the intricate arabesques of silver that held their lives.

* * *

"We need extra coin to start new Snuggeries." Manaam turned to face Cahuan. "I am able, myself, to provide additional coin for a while. However, in the long run, we must have more support."

He strode across the parlor, his shapely legs set off to advantage by the short dark silks he wore. "That's why I intend to give a ball and invite you too, as a special guest. I am sure the owners will be interested. Even if they only come to see the butterfly, they surely will come. And when they set eyes on you they will be spellbound, and hopefully willing to give funds for the children."

Cahuan froze. "What?" she said, aghast. "Am I to pose as a butterfly? To lure and charm people?" Her voice was strained. "I am not some exotic attraction to stare at. I am not a fantastical beast to be put on display to amuse an audience. Why should I have to put myself out to entice people?"

Her face had grown pale beneath her mermaid shimmer. "There are children in need. Is that not reason enough to be there for them? Why would it need an extra butterfly to charm these people into doing what's right? If my skin was brown, would they just let the children starve?" Cahuan was practically shaking by now.

Manaam stood very still. His gaze was riveted on her face. Cahuan stared back angrily. Her whole body was tense, her fists tight, her knuckles showing.

Then her shoulders sagged and her back softened. With a deep sigh, she walked up to Manaam, closing the short distance between them.

Manaam met her stiffly. His hand came up in a jerky, angular move to rest on her arm. "Is this how you feel about it?" His voice was husky.

Cahuan nodded shakily. "Yes. At least at first instinct. But," she grumbled, "I expect I will come to see reason. If this is how it is, how things go. I may hate it, but it will not kill me. And it will save the children. Some sacrifices have to be made." Cahuan tried to give a brave smile, but it came out rather weakly. She looked wretched.

Manaam swallowed. "I am sorry," he muttered. "I had no idea you would think it such a horror." He fidgeted. He turned away from Cahuan hesitantly, uncertainly, twisting his fingers in a restless grip. His shoulders were rigid. "Your reaction is very strong." He cleared his throat. "It almost seems as if there is a lot of pent-up suffering behind it. A lot of bad experiences. A lot of accumulated pain right beneath the surface, ready to shoot up in an instant."

Manaam crossed his arms over the chest. "I wonder," he said in a constricted voice, "if I may have anything to do with that?" His face was drawn. "I provide funds for the Snuggery. When I ask you to visit me for business, you practically have to come. However, when you do, I also touch you and kiss you. Every now and then, we conclude the evening by making love. I wonder. Has any of that ever gone against your grain? Do you feel obliged to humor me, to charm me, to go beyond what you would willingly offer, in order to keep the funds flowing?" His eyes searched her face almost desperately.

Cahuan stared back at him. Then she came over in one swift move and wrapped her arm around his shoulders. "Manaam," she said softly. "No. No. Never. I have never kissed you without meaning every bit of it. If you lost all your wealth tomorrow, I would still be your friend. And I would still want to make love to you, just like now." She kissed him lightly on the cheek, then pulled back to look into his eyes.

Manaam held her gaze. Finally he lowered his head. "Yes." He exhaled. "I hope so." With a deep sigh, he let his temple come to rest against Cahuan's seaweed hair, dipping his nose into the lush fragrance of her skin.

A crooked smile rose to his lips. "However, if you truly felt obliged to flatter, charm, and deceive me, you would still be saying just that. Because it clearly is what I wanted to hear. So how will I ever know?" But his mouth was still curved, and his body soft.

Cahuan gave him a playful shove and pulled a slipping sleeve back up over his bared shoulder. "You never will. For that last lingering bit of doubt, there is only one remedy. Independence."

She took a small step back, still holding on to his hand. "If all that coin were no longer yours to decide on. If it were put aside, to be spent only on the children, even if you changed you mind tomorrow. If that small fortune were to be theirs, rather than yours, I would no longer depend on you. And then you would know, beyond doubt."

The light from the window sent a shimmer of pale gold running over her cheek, to get lost somewhere in the shadows beneath her chin. Manaam stood quiet for a long while, without making a move. Then he tilted his head back, groaning softly. "Ah," he moaned, "you are a thorn in my flesh." His eyes held a spark as he looked at Cahuan. "But a good one," he added. "The needle of a healer, maybe?"

He licked his lips. "So are you suggesting that I give up power? That I give up wealth? Much more than I have done already?" His gaze traveled out into the distance as he seemed to be listening to the echo of his own words. He ran a finger down the latticework that graced the window, eventually touching ground, tapping against an ink stone resting on the sill.

"I am not going to," he rasped, almost inaudibly. "I don't think I will. I like my wealth too much."

His eyes were feverish as he met Cahuan's gaze. "I can see that I have no right to that fortune. I have done nothing to deserve it, nothing more than anyone else. I have inherited, that's all. There is no justice in this."

He rubbed a silken slipper over the polished floor. "But now I have that wealth. And while it may not be right or just, it certainly is very comfortable. And I do not even mean the big house or the fine foods. That too. But being able to take my own decisions is comfortable as well. I am independent, yes. And I like it. I am not going to give up that independence, to hand it over to somebody else. I don't think I have the strength to share in that way. I won't."

He looked straight at Cahuan again, the light still burning in his eyes. "There you have it. Truth." Manaam bowed his head.

Cahuan said nothing.

Her eyes rested on Manaam's face, taking in his drawn eyebrows, his pale amber skin, the stray lock of hair falling over his ear. She stood there with him, motionless, in perfect silence.