The guests left soon after the ceremony, following the bride and groom to Bal House, where there was to be more dancing and music. Tudju and Hehum, Alo and Nata went for civility's sake. Bela stayed home. He and Modh said almost nothing to each other. They took off their finery and lay silent in their bed, taking comfort in each other's warmth, trying not to listen for the wail of the child. They heard nothing, only the others returning, and then silence.

Tudju was to return to the Temple early in the morning. She came to Bela and Modh's apartments. Modh had just risen.

“Where is my sword, Modh?"

“You put it in the box in the dancing room."

“Your bronze one is there, not mine."

Modh looked at her in silence. Her heart began to beat heavily.

There was a noise, shouting, beating at the doors of the house.

Modh ran to the hanan, to the room she and Mal had slept in, and hid in the corner, her hands over her ears.

Bela found her there later. He raised her up, holding her wrists gently. She remembered how he had dragged her by the wrists up the hill through the trees. “Mal killed Ralo,” he said. “She had the sword hidden under her dress. They strangled her."

“Where did she kill him?"

“On her bed,” Bela said bleakly. “He never did keep his promises."

“Who will bury her?"

“No one,” Bela said, after a long pause. “She was a Dirt woman. She murdered a Crown. They'll throw her body in the butchers’ pit for the wild dogs."

“Oh, no,” Modh said. She slipped her wrists from his grip. “No,” she said. “She will be buried."

Bela shook his head.

“Will you throw everything away, Bela?"

“There is nothing I can do,” he said.

She leaped up, but he caught and held her.

He told the others that Modh was mad with grief. They kept her locked in the house, and kept watch over her.