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invisible shield, was immune to winter, and the household often preferred to gather there instead of in the common room downstairs. Most of Lincoln's houses had only domes over their courtyards; installing the force field had been Julia's idea and she had spent a lot of her credit on it, yet she rarely sat in the courtyard with the others, whose talk made her impatient or irritable. Iris often wondered if giving the house the luxury of a force field had been Julia's way of making up for her lack of warmth and friendliness. Her grandmother, whatever her feelings, was stilll a Plainswoman and had tried to treat her commune fairly before turning it over to Angharad.
    Iris sat down on the window seat. She was too tired to study and not tired enough to sleep. She had to get more rest; it was her turn to help in the kitchen tomorrow and her room needed cleaning as well. Angharad had already scolded her for allowing it to become so disorderly, and Iris had not forgotten her mother's threats.
    The winter, imposing isolation, had given her more time to study. The afternoon hours that she usually spent with her friends during other seasons were her own. She still spoke with the other children occasionally over her screen, or joined them outside for games in the snow when the wind died down long enough; if she hadn't, Angharad would have counted it as another mark against her.
    She stretched out on the window seat, pillowing her head on her hands. Sometimes, when she couldn't sleep, the sound of talk below would bring on drowsiness, soothing her until she drifted off there or stumbled hazily to her bed.
    She knew why she could not sleep. Another teaching image, a man named Muhammar, had appeared with Bari that afternoon. He had said that he would be guiding her in some of her studies, and Bari had looked pleased, saying that this meant that Iris had done well. Iris had run to Julia with the news, longing to share it, but even her grandmother had frowned before offering a few words of praise.
    Iris pressed her lips together. She now knew enough about customs in other places to realize that such news would have been cause for celebration elsewhere. No one in her household cared. They all knew her secret now; Angharad, knowing it couldn't be kept, had been the first to reveal it, saying somewhat defensively that the studies might help her to manage the farm when she was grown.
    Most of the women had been amused, though Iris supposed that mockery was better than outright hostility. Eric, the only child in the household who was her age, kept asking her silly questions she could not answer and then made fun of her when she did not reply. "Why don't you ask the image?" he would say as he sneered, or "I thought you knew everything by now." He had nearly baited her into hitting him that morning; only the thought of Angharad's warning had kept Iris from striking out.
    She sat up and peered out at the courtyard. The women below had spread blankets on the grass; most of them wore sweaters over their long dresses or tunics. The house homeostat had been erratic lately, one of the reasons why the dust that the system usually cleared from the air was beginning to form a film on Iris's furniture. The women would have to retreat to the common room later that week unless the man visiting them managed to repair the homeostat soon. Iris reminded herself to dust her room in the morning.
    Wenda poured herself more whiskey. She was the oldest of the women, nearly ninety; she had been a friend of Julia's grandmother. Her silver hair gleamed in the courtyard's soft light; her stocky body was still sturdy. Rejuvenation might give the old woman another three or four decades of life, and she had always been strong. She had not only survived her old friend but had also outlived Julia's mother, Gwen; the people of Lincoln, unaccustomed to seeing death carry off anyone before the age of ninety, still talked about Gwen's tragic end. Disease might be forestalled or