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money.” He made an impotent gesture toward a pouch at his side, and then started to sob.
    Two-foot took the pouch, which clinked a little. Then she picked up the cover again, and walked away with Four-foot at her heels. A woman with a baby rushed past her toward the man, screaming and crying. Two-foot could still hear their sobs when she got back to the road and stopped to see what was inside the pouch. There were all these round shiny things in there, of varied metallic colors. She was not sure what they were for, or why the man had offered them to her. But they were pretty, so she kept them in the pouch, which she tied around her wrist. Then she lifted the cover over the other arm, whistled to Four-foot, and went on her way. Somewhere at the end of this road she would find one of those big wooden leaves. And in that leaf, her salvation.

5
    Phaedra
    E veryone said Phaedra danced through life. She was tall and lithe and surrounded by friends, and joyous and graceful and all the things that a girl from a good family ought to be. Absolutely glamorous, the whole city agreed. She was the most beautiful girl Karsanye had ever seen, and Gods, she could dance.
    Her father was a former merchant who had succeeded well enough to give up his wandering days and become a financier. He had married above his birth, to the daughter of a master weaver, and the two of them had hurried to ready a home for their inevitable brood. Their first and only product was Phaedra.
    No matter – the girl was flawless. Her father did what he was good at and adapted his plans. Phaedra would marry a nobleman one day, so long as she was well prepared. Her parents prepared her as best they could. They hired a nursemaid to feed her and watch her every move. She had to stay healthy and safe so that she could conquer the world.
    When she was older, they taught her their most cherished skills. She took naturally enough to dressmaking, but her father dreaded teaching her the skill that had sent him so far in life. He had taught himself to read, and it was the hardest thing he had ever done. He was sure that his active little girl would struggle to sit still for her lessons.
    He was wrong. Within weeks, her eyes were dancing across the page. His little library, which he had accumulated mostly as a show of wealth, became her favorite part of the house. Even after a long day of chores and playing with friends, she could always be found with one of his books in her hands, reading and rereading. Her father didn’t even know what half the books were about – he hadn’t really bought them for their contents. When her mother asked, Phaedra said that they were religious philosophies. Then her parents began to worry that she was too well-educated. No man wanted a wife who could outthink him.
    By then, it was out of their hands. When her father had to travel for business, Phaedra would ask him to bring home a book. She loved to talk about what she had read, but her parents couldn’t listen. Every erudite sentence was a reminder of their grave mistake. What if she frightened all her suitors away?
    When her ramblings turned to Atel, they didn’t even notice at first. Today she might speak of the Traveler God; surely tomorrow it would be the God of clay ovens or something. All their attention was turned toward finding a match for her before she developed an unhealthy reputation. But it caught their attention when she said she had to go on a pilgrimage.
    In truth, Phaedra’s recent fascination with Atel had a single cause: Atel’s followers were expected to travel on pilgrimages. She knew about her parents’ plans, and before she was married off to some respectable fellow, she wanted a chance to see the world she had read about. Her parents meant to refuse, but their daughter was well practiced in getting her way. She promised that upon her return, she would curb her intellectual spirit and marry whomever they chose for her, without scaring