Zor-yat arrived in Dar’s chamber, her lips curled into a smile. “Dargu,” she said, “your chamber is ready at last! Let me show you.” Zor-yat led Dar back to the hanmuthi. “Now that we have three unblessed mothers, I had to rearrange things.” She showed Dar a large, elegant chamber adjoining the hanmuthi. A mother was already in it. “This is Thir-yat, Nir-yat’s younger sister,” said Zor-yat. “Thir-yat, this is Dargu, who has bitten your brother’s neck.” Thir-yat bowed politely, and Dar returned the bow. Two sons appeared bearing furnishings from Dar’s old room. As soon as Dar’s chest was set down, Zor-yat opened it. It contained only a dagger, for Dar had discarded all her washavoki clothing. “This will not do!” exclaimed Zor-yat in a surprised tone. “You need more clothes.” She regarded Dar’s outfit, as if she had noticed it for the first time. “That’s very quaint, but styles are different here.
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