In a tall tree that towered over the forest, a girl sat singing. She was slim and lithe, with long, sleek dark hair that rippled in the wind. Her amber eyes were sparkling.

And then she had a thought that surprised her. Life is beautiful. She breathed in and out, thought of her life just a week ago. Of the pain and the misery she'd gone through. And yet right now, she was perfectly and brilliantly happy.

She breathed in the fragrant, piney air. Smiled. And then she began to think of her horrible, wild, beautiful life…

Pictures floated through her head, some distant and indistinct, some sharp and clear. Sounds, the memories of sounds, and hands that gently corrected her. The lavish interiors of stately palaces and vistas, alive with voices. Her childhood. So many Kapas, so many servants attending to her. She remembered how they used to watch her. How she had hated her very name—

"Kalari!"

The name was sung out pleasantly, prolonged in its utterance. And yet there was a sharp tilt to it. The face of the woman was faint. It was not she who mattered— she was simply a hired nurse, one in a long line of Kapas.

The child barely lifted her dark, sleek head at the call. She wore a dress of some bright color, and squatted, intent on the wall before her. In her orange eyes there was a fire.

"One day I will escape from this house, find what is outside this garden," she whispered to herself. And then the Kapa came towards the child, and stood for a while watching the her. The Kapa's face was a dark mask, a mask of inward anger. All the scoldings she had never dared give Kalari were welling up in her head.

"Little girl," she said presently, "What could you possibly have in your spoiled head?"

Kalari looked up at her, unperturbed. "Very much, really. And I would not tell you what it is!"

And then she stared into the Kapa's stormy grey eyes. "Pah for you!" Kalari screeched, spitting on the woman. Then she darted away.

But the Kapa followed her, an angry gleam in her eyes. Kalari came up to a maidservant, whispered "Help me!" and scooted under her long dress. The maid did not move. She only stared straight ahead, bewildered.

Then the Kapa, puffing, approached the shocked maid. "Have you seen her?" she bellowed.

"Forgive my ignorance, Madam, but whom do you mean?"

"A little girl. She does not want to do her lesson." She squinted at the maid, certain she was nervous. "I am her Kapa. Speak, girl!"

"Many go by me, Madam. I know not whom you mean. Pray Madam! Forgive me!"

But the Kapa was gazing intently at the maid's skirt. It twitched, and a faint, triumphant snigger could be heard from within. Like a glistening cobra, the Kapa prepared to strike.

In an instant the shocked maid was on the floor. Kalari saw the face of her vehement Kapa looming over her. Before she could sprint away, the Kapa grabbed her arm tightly and shook it. Kalari screeched, enraged. She pounded the Kapa with her free arm. And then the woman hit her…

After that the picture was a blur. Faces, servants surrounding them. Kalari telling her story again and again. Crying, angry. She had looked on that woman with hate in her eyes, determined to have revenge.

And then the trial in the Peace-courts. She could still remember the pronouncement:

"As for you, former Kapa, current drudge-maid Halitha, you shall be stripped of all property and blinded in one eye for your offense. After that, if you serve ten years without complaint as a slave to the family of Kalari Hepon, you may again find work as a servant, but never above the rank of lower drudge-maid. You may never own property or money above five Denatis. (A denati is about two days' wages.) That will be all."

Then the court crier intoned: "All hail the great justice and mercy of our Peace-courts, that such mercy be given to the common man!"

And all the people cried, "Hail!" Except for two. One, of course, was the former Kapa, her eyes full of despair. And the other?

The other was Kalari.