"I learned a new thing in school yesterday," Rahman declared the next day as Silent Her entered her brother's toy room. The television screen showed a fanged cartoon Imahnti chasing a little boy. "It's very rude. It was my good friend Akil Numair who taught me."

Silent Her squatted on the floor beside Rahman and looked up at his face with adoring eyes. What care had she for the risks of leaving the female wing if she could only be in the presence of her brother? "What is a school?" she signed.

The boy sneered and cocked his head in a show of extreme indifference as he pressed a button lowering the sound from the television screen. The cartoon boy was hiding behind a tree and the cartoon Imahnti was leafing through a little blue book to try and find the boy. All of the woodland creatures thought the Imahnti was very stupid for looking in a book instead of behind the tree.

"What is a school?" repeated Rahman. "It's a place where I am forced to go six days a week to learn mountains of stuff I will likely never use again. I envy you not having to go to school."

"I would love to go to school if I could learn."

"It is forbidden. Besides, you wouldn't want to go if you had to go. Believe me. School is deadly dull and the masters are very mean. But watch what my friend Akil taught me."

Rahman's brow furrowed in a frown as he seemed to gulp at the air after the manner of a fish out of water. He gulped and gulped again, then he was still for a moment. At the end of his silence he let forth with a belch whose magnitude rivaled that of Majnun's gas attacks. Rahman did it again and laughed out loud when he saw how hard Silent Her was laughing.

"Here," he said at last. "I must stop laughing if I am to show you what else Akil taught me." He took a deep breath, laughed again, and took another deep breath. When he had calmed himself down, he swallowed more air, then belched, but this time he formed a word with his mouth. "Jamil!" he growled.

They both laughed at the sound, and when they had calmed down, Silent Her signed to her brother, "Show me how to make a burp. It's such fun. Show me how. Please."

"I don't know if you can learn it. It took me a great deal of time."

"Please."

Rahman shrugged again. "First you swallow a lot of air, and be sure to hold it down. Do it like this." Rahman swallowed some air and let forth a tiny burp.

Silent Her tried several times, but she couldn't seem to develop the knack. "Perhaps females cannot do this."

"Oh, they can too," Rahman corrected. "Akil Numair taught one of his sisters to burp and she was better at it even than he." Rahman frowned and thought for a long time.

"Brother, will you show me again?"

"No." He shook his head slowly and looked with care at his sister. "Akil taught his sister to do it. She even made a word with her burp. Someone caught them. She was beaten for learning and Akil was beaten for teaching her. I don't think it is something God wants." He shook his head and glowered at his immature manhood having to knuckle under to overwhelming authority. "This is something it might be best to forget."

Silent Her looked at the television screen in time to see the fanged Imahnti have a bright light appear over its head. It put away its little blue book and reached beneath a rock where everyone, including the little boy, knew the little boy wasn't hiding. The Imahnti withdrew its appendage, dragging the little boy from beneath the rock by his collar. The boy screamed, broke loose, and the fanged alien streaked after him. The boy's name was Koko. The Imahnti's name was Fuzzy.

"Bah!" answered the cook from the depths of the kettle he was inspecting. The scrub girl, Joina, stood off to one side, her gaze cast down, respectfully awaiting Onan's judgment. Si smiled at the boom of the cook's voice. With his head inside the pot his voice had become deep and powerful. It sounded the way she imagined the voice of Alilah had sounded those many thousands of years ago when He told Noah He would destroy the father planet.

Onan withdrew his head from the pot, nodded his satisfaction to the scrub girl, and handed the heavy kettle to her to hang with the others as Silent Her crept between the ranges to her safe place.

"Nabil," began the cook, "the way you worry, it's a wonder the priests haven't put you in a taffy house and wired you up to a few volts. By the Founders, after that you'd see the light."

She leaned against the wall, pulled off her veil, and placed her hand inside her pocket. Withdrawing the tiny blue book, she opened it and looked at the curious marks on the first page.

Huroot Ib had been reciting "The Shaytan." Perhaps the booklet was his copy of The Book of Peace. But then why did Fuzzy, the cartoon Imahnti, look in his little blue book to find Koko? And when he found Koko, why was the boy in a place where no one expected him to be, including Koko?

At the head of the first page were two groups of marks set off from the rest. Perhaps they were the marks that represented "The Shaytan" in man-writing.

A cup was placed upon the kitchen table with a heavy hand. "Scoff at me if you wish, Onan, but I watch the news. I hear what's between the words."

"What do you hear?" The cook laughed as he poured himself a cup of the buttered tea and sat down at the table. "Or should I ask, what do you think you hear?"

While the cook and the head servant talked, Silent Her studied the two groups of marks in the center of the page. The first group had thirteen of the forbidden writing letters. The second group had four letters. If it was "The Shaytan," the first group was too many for "the" and the second much too few for "Shaytan."

Nabil's voice became loud. "Laugh if you want, Onan, but perch this between your eyes. The 'doxies are gathering enough support to make a coalition possible—"

"It will never happen," interrupted the cook.

"If they do gain control of the government, Joram won't join the world congress. If we don't join, no one joins, and if no one joins, no one disarms. In such a case it's only a matter of time before we are once more looking for prophets to follow and wading through blood."

"Exactly my point, Nabil. No one wants war, so no one wants the return of the orthodoxy. So where's the threat?"

"The threat is right here in Joram, Onan. The Reformists are hanging on to power right now only because Mikael Yucel keeps promising moons to the splinter parties he cannot deliver. If the splinter parties grow cold on Yucel, Tahir Ranon and the 'doxies will have all of us in a bloody choke loop."

"Look at what you are saying. The Reformists haven't lost an election for over twelve years."

"That was before Joram's army tangled with Bahai," Nabil reminded.

"What does that change?"

"Here's what it changes, my smug friend, safe and secure in your little kitchen. What if the people of Joram become convinced there will be a war? They're going to think twice before keeping the Reformists in. When it comes to a fight, people feel safer with the 'doxies running things. It's the Orthodox Party that knows how to call a jihad."

"By the Christ, Nabil, break that wind before your eyeballs explode."

"We'll see. We'll see."

The pair fell into silence as the girl continued to study the marks. Frontwards, backwards, one at a time, the words made no sense without the key. Man-writing had far too many letters in it. A thought teased at her frustration. What if the booklet wasn't in man-writing at all? What if it was in Imahnti?

"Jihad," spat Onan. "Don't the 'doxies just love that ancient curse?"

"They do that."

"I cannot imagine the people going for it again. That last holy war of the 'doxies was one hell of a bloody mess. Don't you remember? Every family had out the black weeds."

"Of course."

"Many others do as well, my friend. The 'doxies are finished. Consider it written."

"Consider it written," scoffed Nabil. "Read to me from your fortune-telling book, fuzzywriggle."

"Nabil, I saw the horror of the Jihad on the screens. My father was in the war and he told me of things much worse than those that made it into the news. The ''doxies had their damned Mujtahidun performing atrocity after atrocity until the army itself rebelled, attacked the fanatics, and put an end to the fighting. Duman Amin was there. He can tell you. Ask Jamil. He was Duman's sergeant."

"Many don't remember the war, Onan. That's all I'm saying. A whole new generation has grown."

"What about history, Nabil? What about memory?"

"History is dead to those who haven't lived it, and in politics an accurate memory is not a tool of profit. Instead, it is a tool of convenience, opportunity, and blackmail. A lot of people don't remember and a lot of people won't remember. They are the ones who put this smell into the wind. They are the ones who will put Tahir Ranon in power one of these days."

"Nabil, you worry more than an old woman on workhouse rations."

"What about that dribble-nosed young priest who was at the pulpit last Adonai?"

"What about him?"

Nabil laughed. "Skipping services again? You be careful that they don't have you in front of a priest's court one of these days."

"The priests are too busy buggering each other and stealing from the poor to worry about me. What did the priest do?"

"He as much as told Duman Amin and the members of every other old family in the temple that the Reformists are dragging the world down to Magda's fire in Hell—"

"That's a Reformist temple! He had no right to say such a thing." There was genuine shock in Onan's voice. "Why would even a fanatic take such a risk? And before that congregation? In that temple, of all places?"

"As I said, my friend, there is something 'doxy in the wind."

"Bah! Nabil, you ought to grow hair and sausages, become a fuzzywriggle, and augur up the future yourself with a little blue book."

In the dark behind the ranges, Silent Her frowned at Onan's comment about a little blue book as she removed a loose stone from the wall and placed the tiny booklet into the opening. Before she replaced the rock, she looked at the book's blue cover and thought. Females were not allowed to own property, and the Imahnti must have known about the law. Why had the fuzzywriggle given her the book? And how could one "augur up the future" with such a book? And if she could, what kind of future would she try to bring into being?

She quietly replaced the stone. The questions were pointless without the key to the words in the book. She peeked from between the ranges. Onan was slouching in his chair, his arms folded, his legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles, his chin resting upon his chest. He lifted his head and said to Nabil, "If what's in the wind is what you think it is, my friend, we'd better pray to Alilah that Joram and Bahai have both outgrown the ''doxies."

"You say to pray?"

"Pray like you have no paddle, and paddle like there is no God."

The girl faded into the shadows and slipped into the corridor. Jamil was on duty, and this time the sergeant was catching a quick nap in the guard room. She crept past the guard room, opened the door, and made her way to her brother's room of toys. She had made up her mind to tell Rahman about the book. Perhaps he would teach her how to read it.

When she arrived Rahman was sitting on the floor playing with a model sailing ship. After noticing her the boy frowned and returned his attention to the model.

"You shouldn't be here, girl. I'll get in more trouble."

Something cold touched her heart. She signed, "What is wrong?"

"Jamil talked to my father."

She smiled. "Did you tell your great lie? Did you tell him that Jamil—"

"No." Rahman's face was very red. "Jamil told my father about the lie and about my threat. My father was very angry with me." Tears of shame were hot in his eyes. "He beat me, and it was all your fault!"

Her eyes narrowed as she signed, "I didn't make you tell lies against Jamil."

The boy pushed his model aside, got to his feet, and slapped the girl's face. "That's for you, Silent Her!"

She stood there, stunned, as her world shrank to the limits of the female wing. She damned the tears on her cheeks as she signed, "You are nothing, Rahman. You are just like them all. Nothing."

He lifted his hand to slap her again, but she pushed his chest with her hands, knocking him backwards over his model ship. He struggled halfway to his feet and she leaped on him, knocking him flat on the floor, crushing his model. She wrestled with him until she straddled his chest and was holding down his arms by his wrists.

"I'll kill you, girl! I swear I'll kill you for this!"

From beneath her veil Silent Her looked down at her brother's bright red face. His face was directly beneath hers, and there was nothing but empty space between her lips and Rahman's eyes. She gathered the spittle in her mouth, opened her lips, and let it fall on his face. As her brother screamed his anger, she swallowed as much air as she could hold and burped the most filthy word she had ever heard. "Toilet!"

Releasing him, she stood and looked one last time at the room full of toys. The prince was a monster, but the kingdom had been wondrous.

"You are ugly!" screamed Rahman from his place on the floor. "You're mean, ugly, and you smell bad! You're stupid, a girl, and nothing but a dummy! I hate you! I hate you and wish you were dead!"

Silent Her turned away and faded into the shadows as she returned to the female wing. That night, as she cried, she felt her heart shatter.

Rihana was standing with the wives of Onan, Nabil, Jamil, Majnun, and Isak. Even the wife of the heathen gardener, Toi, was there. The five kitchen scrub girls huddled by themselves, and no matter how Rihana urged them to relax, they stayed to themselves and kept the fear in their eyes.

Majnun and Isak stood with the women, but not with their wives. Between them they guarded Duman's second wife, known to the women as Hedia. All of the servant men were there, but none of them would be going to the ceremony.

Silent Her looked up at her mother. Isak was holding Hedia's left arm while Majnun held the right.

"By Kamil's ice," cursed Duman Amin. "This is barbarous." He glanced at Razi Itef, his secretary. "The orthodoxy raises its toothless old head to let out one last senile wheeze for the purpose of seeing if it can make the rest of us jump. It is nothing more than that."

"I see we are jumping nonetheless, minister."

Silent Her's father glared at Razi for a split second, then he snorted out an angry laugh. "That is not a lie on your lips." Duman paused to look through the main gateway. "If the first minister wants to make a parade out of this farce, where is he?"

"It shouldn't be much longer, minister. The prime's secretary said they were just passing Yo'el when he called." Razi looked at his watch. "Perhaps I should get your wrap, sir. You already look chilled and the ceremony will be held outdoors. If they plan readings in addition to all of the speeches, it promises to be quite an ordeal."

Duman grimaced and faced Razi. "Tahir Ranon will get in there with at least an hour of regressive wind, you may be certain." He nodded and sighed. "A wrap would be very sensible. Thank you for the suggestion."

Razi cocked his head at Nabil, and Duman's head servant bowed and hurried up the stairs. While Duman waited, he frowned and walked over to the women. Silent Her and the others bowed deeply at his approach.

He held up his hands. "Listen to me."

They stood erect and Duman looked at them one at a time. When his gaze reached Silent Her, he paused. His eyes blinked, then he addressed them all. "I want you to understand that the ceremony through which you are about to be put is something I and the Reformists have opposed for decades. It is a ceremony that humiliates everyone; men as well as women. It would not serve the will of Alilah any less to have a witch doctor dance about to summon dust demons."

The faces of some of the women carried worried looks. "The worst that might happen to you at this thing is a chill, sore knees, or a troublesome case of boredom. Is everyone dressed warmly?"

Some of the women nodded in response. Duman's glance fell upon his second wife for an instant. "I'd hoped I could spare you this." He shrugged and faced all of the women. "I wanted to spare all of you. However, because of the border incident with Bahai, the orthodoxy has the nation on a fundamentalist jag. It will pass, and until it does pass, all we have to do is to make certain that foolish courage doesn't have us getting caught up in the hysteria of the moment. Meanwhile we have some sand to eat. Our first minister, Mikael Yucel, will eat his share, so we must eat ours. The women of both of our households will stand the ceremony along with the household women of the rest of the cabinet members."

Nabil arrived with Duman's gray coat with the black fur collar. As he was helped on with his coat he said to the women, "I just want you to know that I oppose this."

A shout from the wall signaled the arrival of the first minister's party. After a moment the glossy maroon nose of the first limousine entered the gate followed by a trail of fourteen limousines, each one the same maroon color. The vehicles all had tiny flags mounted on their fenders. The flags were white with a golden starcross in the center of each one.

Silent Her turned around and saw two of the scrub women signing at each other.

"Did you hear what he said?" signed Zel to Joina. "It makes my blood boil."

Joina nodded and signed, "Tahir will scour these stains from Alilah's hem one day."

"May God touch his eyes—"

Rihana turned Silent Her around and signed, "It is impolite to present your back to the first minister."

The girl reached into Rihana's sleeve so that she could sign against her skin unobserved. "Zel and Joina are angry at my father."

"They are orthodox," answered Rihana.

"Should we tell my father?"

"Your father knows."

Silent Her frowned as she thought of something. Again her fingers moved on Rihana's arm. "If they are orthodox, should they be finger-talking? I thought the 'doxies didn't allow finger-talking."

Rihana's lips parted in a wry smile as she answered, "In their case it's all right because they're doing it themselves. Pay attention now to the first minister."

Duman waited beside the first car as Nabil opened the door. The first minister stepped down from his limousine and Silent Her was disappointed at how short he was. Since he was first minister, that made him more important than her father. She had expected him to be taller than Duman. The first minister's face carried a troubled look.

Her father stepped forward, took Mikael Yucel's hand, kissed it, and held it to his forehead. Upon releasing his hand, Duman kissed the first minister on both cheeks. Silent Her looked up at the house. Rahman was looking down at her, his face filled with hate. She looked away and the chauffeurs of the last five limousines opened their passenger doors and took their posts.

Nabil began assigning the women to the last five cars and Silent Her became light-headed at the prospect of being off the estate. Where might they go? What might they see? She followed Rihana into the limousine and instantly her nostrils were caressed by the smells of leather and aromatic woods.

She was seated between Rihana and the ancient woman she remembered from the burying of Duman's mother. She placed her hand upon Rihana's arm and pressed, "Who is she?"

Rihana signed that the old woman was Duman's aunt Leeba, and to remember that Leeba was feebleminded and not to ask her anything or she'll begin crying. Isak entered the compartment followed by Hedia and Majnun. Duman's second wife sat down facing her daughter, the guards sitting on either side.

Silent Her saw that her mother was staring at her. She lowered her gaze to her mother's hands. Hedia signed, "You are my child. I heard you cry out when you were born. I know you can give voice."

Hesitantly the girl signed back, "They say you are mad. They say I should not go near you because you will hurt me. They say I should read nothing you sign to me."

"You can give voice."

"I cannot. I have tried. I cannot give voice."

Hedia's fingers repeated, "You can give voice."

Silent Her sat still for a long time, looking at her mother's long, delicate fingers. When the cars began moving, she signed to her mother, "You never gave me my quiet name."

"After you were taken from me, the one time I saw you, you ran from me."

The girl's eyes widened. "Do I have a quiet name?"

"Yes."

"What is my name among women?"

Hedia's hard mouth softened slightly as she signed, "Your quiet name is Lilith. Lilith was Adam's first wife. She demanded equality with Adam, and when Adam would not consent to this, she left him. Adam then received Eve from God and together they founded the race of men and pliant female creatures. Lilith went on to found the race of women."

"Are they allowed to do that finger-talking among themselves?" asked Majnun.

Isak shook his head and answered, "Not in my limousine." He shrugged and smiled. "But, then, this is not my limousine." Majnun's voice grew more serious. "This is Duman's limousine, and without disrespect I say that with him women may do anything they please."

Lilith looked into her mother's eyes and signed, "Thank you for my name, Mother."

Hedia's fingers signed, "Never forget: I heard you cry. You can speak. Lilith, you can give voice back to the race of women."

Lilith looked to her left to see Rihana looking back at her. Duman's first wife studied her for a moment, glanced at Hedia, and turned her gaze toward the passing hills and fields.