Three days have passed since Rasheeka received the entomo. Her ear aches occasionally where it connects to the skin, but the insect is firmly – perhaps inseparably – attached. Her routine has varied little in the ensuing days, and she has just finished a particularly grueling session with Afentis Hefione.

The older woman packs away her papers and books with a heavy sigh. "At least tomorrow is kyriaki." Rasheeka has heard the word before, but she's not sure what it means. A few people have spoken of it as if the word were something to look forward to – a special holiday, perhaps. "I will see you on deferas." The Khatta can't quite make out the way Laos Enosi calendar works. They clearly do not count down and up from holidays, the way the Rephidim Standard calendar does. Sometimes it seems as if each day is its own little "holiday" with its own special name, except she has not yet seen anyone celebrating anything on one. Besides, Afentis Miona's love of dates has proven that numbers play some role in the calendar, not just names. Rasheeka suspects the calendar numbers days either all up, or all down, from a few major holidays – but that doesn't explain the different individual names given to days.

"Afentis Hefione, may I your humble servant who studies diligently to assist your task inquire of you some questions?" asks Rasheeka from where she sits kneeling on a cushion before the Afentis's desk. A twinge of pain reminds her of the insect that now clings to her ear, and still she must resist the urge to reach up and check her ear – especially in the presence of an Afentis who may not wholly understand her reason to fidget.

A frown wrinkles the woman's already lined brow, but she says only, "What did you wish to ask?"

Rasheeka bows to the Afentis. "The matter of the Laosian calendar puzzles me, Afentis Hefione. I know neither kyriaki nor deferas, and Afentis Miona's lessons are made difficult by a timeline I know not. I would ask Afentis Miona, but," and here the Khatta chews her lip a moment as she considers how best to describe her teacher's unwillingness to acknowledge her existence in the classroom, "… but Afentis Miona is much to busy with … with more important students than I."

"You do not know the days of the ten-day?" Hefione sounds disbelieving. She shakes her head. "I should have thought even bar Ravid – how do you – teh, no matter. I shall explain the calendar to you." She stands and walks to the wall, standing before one of the ink paintings, which features five sections of writing, divided by decorative brush images. "This is a calendar. The year is divided into five seasons, each with 73 days. The first season is Kalierga, the season of life. Then, Ilios, the season of warmth. After Ilios, Therizo, season of the harvest. After that, Kataigida, season of storms, then finally, Pagos, season of frost."

The slave's ears flatten at having again surprised the Afentis with her lack of knowledge regarding Laosian ways. Despite beginning to get used to the shock that comes with impressing someone about her lack of knowledge, long having prided herself on being a very learned young woman, it still hurts her whenever she needs give reason for a Laosian to suspect that maybe she really is just a "smart animal" and incapable of learning complex matters. Such as calendars. Not wishing to miss any of the explanation lest she add to that embarrassment in the future, she listens attentively and perks her ears once again after recovering from her reaction to the Afentis's disbelief.

"Today is Pagos 34 – the 34th day since the beginning of Pagos." The woman takes a deep breath, looking into Rasheeka's eyes to see if the slave understands her.

Rasheeka nods, then quickly adds, "I understand, Afentis."

Though not looking convinced that Rasheeka comprehends thus far, the woman continues, "The calendar is further dividedinto ten-days, and each day of the ten-day has a name. They are: Deferas, Kima, Oros, Asterias, Tyrios, Nomos, Vynas, Pani, Inos, and Kyriaki. Today is Inos. Tomorrow is Kyriaki. I see I had best explain what Kyriaki means, as well."

"Thank you, Afentis Hefione." Rasheeka scoots herself around so that she can face the calendar better and not have to twist her torso. She continues to watch closely.

"Kyriaki is a day of respite. No work is done on this day, save for a few essential offices, such as that of the city guards. No goods are sold or bought, no messages delivered, no money exchanges hands, no orders are given nor executed on Kyriaki. Anyone, be they tyr or slave, is at their leisure on Kyriaki. Provided you break no laws and are ready to return to your duties by dawn on Deferas, you may do as you please tomorrow," the afentis finishes.

Thinking that's some of the best news she's ever had in aLaosian lesson, the slave nods. And indeed that falls right in line with what she hoped to do. Maybe she can arrange so that she can go see her Savanite friends, or perhaps even visit the old Neyemen man deep in the bowls of the Astikos. "And all other days are days of work, Afentis Hefione?" she inquires.

"Yes. There are certain religious functions on other days of the ten-day, but as you are heathen, that is of no concern to you." She says the word "heathen" dismissively, but without bile, as if Rasheeka's beliefs, like her race and her homeland, are unfortunate but beyond anyone's control. "There are holidays which you must honor appropriately, even as a heathen, but none any time soon. I shall speak to you of those at a later time. And, of course, you are not exempt from Kyriaki."

Again Rasheeka bows, and truly she finds herself appreciating the Afentis's explanation of the calendar. It's one more part of the Laosian puzzle solved and one less reason for the people here to think her unintelligent. "May I ask as to how the … " Rasheeka starts, stumbling as she searches for a word for "year" or else a explanation that will work in place of a proper word, " – 'years', great passages of time corresponding to the revolution of Sinai around Primus, the great sun, within the heavens?"

"Each year marks a single revolution of the world about the sun," the Afentis answers, as if explaining to a small child. "Each season marks the same time period of every year. Thus planting is done every Kalierga, the harvest comes in every Therizo, and the storms in every Kataigida, and so on."

"Then it is the same," says the slave. She bows again, offering another "Thank you, Afentis." Weighting carefully if it would be prudent to ask about the Neyemen, being many seem to believe she is Neyemen, the slave decides that it is indeed a good idea – or at least worth risking since someone would likely understand where she originates frpm eventually anyway. "May I inquire further of you, Afentis Hefione? There is one further matter I am uncertain of."

Mixed feelings flicker briefly over Hefione's golden-brown face. She asks, "What is that?" in a neutral voice, less sharp than her earlier tone, when Rasheeka first asked for permission to speak.

"I beg your pardon most humbly," says Rasheeka bowing again, "as I am to believe that this question may seem strange. I am wondering about the peoples known as 'Neyemen' and 'Yemenos.' I know them not well, and I would think to know more. It seems important for a variety of reasons."

"Teh. Yes, I can see why that would interest you. The Neyemen and the Yemenos are neighbors of the Laos Enosi, across the mountains. Here, I will show you." She turns the chest, pulling out one long, narrow drawer, and withdrawing a roll of paper, which she flattens on her cleared table, weighting it down at each corner.

Rasheeka adjusts her position on the cushion so that she faces the table once again. There she leans forward slightly that she might get a better look at the map. It strikes Rasheeka then that the Laos Enosi may not even have a map of the modern world, and she wonders if names like "Nagai Empire," "Rephidim" and "Babel" mean anything to them. "Though I may be mistaken, and apologize most deeply if I am, I recall that you Afentis Hefione referred to me as 'Neyemen' when I thought to approach you the day dutiful Steward Rasmus assigned me to this place. I am thinking it is possible that it will not be the first time that will occur," mentions Rasheeka.

"No. Though you are properly an emene, not a Neyemen, many Laosians will refer to you as such. There are differences between the cultures of Neyemen and Yemenos – more obvious to them, than to us – but they are all prodotis," Hefione says, as if that explained it. "The Neyemen are even more violent and warlike than the Yemenos, and accordingly most of the emene slaves are captured Neyemen. They are an ignorant, superstitious people, riddled by absurd beliefs and marked by their cruelty and viciousness, when given free rein." She shivers a little.

Rasheeka thinks about the old man she met, and finds it hard to believe he could be cruel and vicious. Then she remembers her own people who didn't think twice about selling her into slavery for the crimes of her parent. "The people of Laos Enosi, do they trade or meet with the Yemenos? Or even Neyemen? Their language is not known to me, and I know very little of them at all except their unusual form of marking." She gestures at her own ear for emphasis.

A grimace of disapproval flickers over the afentis's face. "Prodotis," she repeats. "They have some ridiculous beliefs about entomo. There is some trade with a few of the less uncivilized Yemenos clans. Mostly they bring to us herd animals, Drokars, and a few tisikontas, in return for an assortment of refined goods from us, which they lack the skill to make for themselves."

The slave lays her ears back. "I am sorry if my questions offend, Afentis Hefione," apologizes Rasheeka. She inclines her head, as if shamed. "It is only that … n-no, forgive me Afentis, it is nothing."

"Your questions do not offend me, child," the afentis answers, glancing away from the map to look at Rasheeka curiously. "What is the matter?"

She didn't mean to really let on to the Afentis that there was a problem, or that she had any special attachment to these tribal people who look so much like her. Rasheeka isn't even sure if she does mind them, or if she's just being silly because she found people who looked like her. Biting her lip Khatta fidgets looking uncomfortable and knowing she had best answer, and not wishing to lie intentionally after the example the tyr set before her. So she offers, "B-because we are similar, I thought maybe I would like to know more about them, those Neyemen and Yemenos, b-but that's silly isn't it, Afentis Hefione? Just b-because they look like me."

The afentis opens her mouth as if to reply, but then closes it again without speaking. She reaches for the weights at the corners of the map, removing them to let it roll up again. "It is late, child," she says, in a voice that carries a trace of the kindness she showed to her pupils, on the day Rasheeka first met her. "You had best go down to supper, before the dining hall closes. Do not forget to get food for tomorrow – there is no cooking on Kyriaki, either."

Rasheeka registers the lack of response with some surprise, figuring she would be condemned for wanting to know more about prodotis or anything not having to do with her studies. Though confused the girl bows after she rises, not certain how to react. She only offers a hesitant, "Yes Afentis Hefione – I'll remember."

As Rasheeka enters the dining hall, she sees the other slaves from Tizhar, gathered as usual in chairs around one of the long tables near the door. The Tizhans stick together, while the native Laosians – even the occasional Khattan slave – ignore or avoid them. Winter-Stars spots the little beige Khatta first, and hops to her feet, waving excitedly to Rasheeka.

Waving back, Rasheeka hurries over to the table where her fellow slaves from her homeland sit. "Greetings, Winter-Stars!" She smiles, feeling better both because she knows she has a free day tomorrow and at the strangely kind voice the Afentis chose to use. She had highly suspected the Afentis would condemn her, and as she pondered that on her way down she found herself increasingly glad she did not – in a way, thinks the Khatta, maybe Afentis Hefione is not all harsh interviews and long belittling lectures.

The others scoot their chairs about to make room for Rasheeka at the table. "Hello, Rasheeka!" Winter-Stars signs. "Fussy-Face was acting very strangely today. She was making signs like she wants us to keep on filling lamps after dinner, and we never fill lamps after dinner; we start putting them out. It's like she doesn't want us to put out the lamps at all. I wish I knew what she was yammering on about! Can you come talk to her and see what's going on?"

"It is the Laosian way that on Kyriaki, no work is to be done. Kyriaki is the last of the ten-day calendar, and neither tyr nor slave is to work on that day. Perhaps she wishes the lamps to be filled and burn through Kyriaki, since she cannot ask you to light them then?" offers Rasheeka by way of explanation. She rather hopes this is sufficient – she in no way wishes to be anywhere near "Fussy-Face", not since the last time she spoke with her and was summarily beaten for her inability to fill lamps correctly.

A chorus of conflicting signs from the table erupts, as all the Savanite hands start moving at once. "What?" "No work?" "Is that possible?"

Rasheeka waves her hands to try and get the attention of those at the table then signs, "It is so. Afentis Hefione explained the calendar to me today. We will be free to do as we will so long as we break no laws and are fit to return to our labors the next day. There will be no services tomorrow, not even cooking, so eat well now – and be careful tomorrow! Laosians have many laws I do not understand and they assume all under Heaven know about."

Softwalker, the largest of the male Savanites, signs, "That explains the foreman today, too. I kept trying to find out which entrance I should be at tomorrow morning for loading, but every time he'd just get angrier and shout, 'No!' and gesture like he didn't want me at any of them. So then I'm trying to find out where he does want me … " He shrugs his shoulders. "I so wish these people spoke Khattan … or I understood Laosian."

"I was going to try and talk to Neyemen Yejsk tomorrow during my free time, but … " Rasheeka casts a look around the table to determine if all eyes are still on her. " Would you all prefer to learn Laosian instead? I can try to teach you. I know a great deal of it, as well as Khattan, Rephidim Standard, Gallisian, Sign, and well, if there's another language you'd rather I translate in, maybe I know that too."

The other slaves exchange glances, not having considered the implications of having an entire day free. Winter-Stars signs, "Are you sure it would be okay? Do you think they won't give us work to do? I can't imagine it! I've never had a whole day without anyone telling me what to do before. And you say they do this every ten days?"

Rasheeka blinks in surprise at the reactions. It's not so hard for her to understand; after all, she had nearly every day "off" when she was still at home and when her name meant something. She imagines that it's much harder for Winter-Stars who was always a slave. She smiles kindly as she explains, "It seems so – though every season (and there are five) has seventy-three days. So there may be an odd three days that blend in with the next month or have special religious significance. But yes, it seems so. It is an important day. To work might bring insult."

"'To work might bring insult,'" Winter-Stars repeats, blinking. "I can't imagine it."

Shock-of-Light signs, "It does seem hard to believe … to think of having leisure time again."

"If you like, I can teach and you can ask questions, and I can ignore you – just like Afentis Miona does for me. That makes learning a lot like work," signs Rasheeka jokingly. Her ears wiggle in a silent laugh, something she picked up from the Savanites. It draws much less attention to a comment she'd rather not have overheard.

Winter-Stars wiggles her ears back at the joke, as do a couple of the others. "I don't want to work that badly!" she counters.

Stands-Straight adds, "For every tenth day off, I could almost forgive them for sticking a big bug in my ear."

"I wouldn't go that far," Shock retorts. Her ear is red and swollen around the entomo, from repeated attempts to try to get the creature off. None of the other slaves took the ritual as well as Rasheeka did, but Shock seems particularly resentful of it. From what the spotted cat has said about her efforts to remove it, doing so has been especially painful … but neither that pain, nor the rebukes and beatings by their Laosian masters, have made the Savanite resigned to the entomo's presence.

"Did I tell you, Shock-of-Light, that there are other Khattas here? That they look like me?" The slaves nods a little, then she reaches up and gently touches the entomo on her ear. "These are their customs. I think the Laosians adopted it as a form of marking, but it seems to mean much more to the Neyemen. It isn't an insult to them."

"It is to me," Shock signs. "It hurts. And it makes my skin crawl, having it there, chewing on my skin and sucking my blood." She starts to reach for the earring, then stops herself, reaching instead for another eating-cracker. The Laosians don't use flatware to eat; instead, they scoop up their food with long, hard cracker-like breadsticks. They either eat the food off the cracker, or eat both food and cracker at the same time – rather like eating one's fork. Shock likes the crackers better than much of the food and has a tendency to eat them alone.

The Khatta inclines her head to her friend's pain. "I know. I just thought that, well, maybe … " She shakes her head a little and reaches over to gather an eating-cracker and a bowl of something she suspects is a form of vegetarian dip. "I think the entomo will grow calm if you do not fight with it. Its shell will harden within two weeks. If you fuss with it, it may look odd, so Shock-of-Light, is it really worth fighting it? The old man thought it was such a good thing, and trying to remove them will invite more pain and you only get another."

The Savanite shakes her head, surly, and crunches on the cracker.

Rasheeka frowns at this reaction.

"I like mine," Winter-Stars signs, flicking her ear and making the entomo in it wave in the air. "I think it's going to be black when it finishes hardening. I think the oil he gave me makes it darker. But yours is getting lighter, Rasheeka, and less green."

Rasheeka turns to Winter-Stars, her frown turning to a smile. "Me too. I think mine will be very light. They are very interesting, too. I never read about anything like this. Maybe I'll be allowed to talk to Neyemen Yejsk again tomorrow."

"Maybe, if you can find him. If he's not working, either, does that mean he won't be in that awful smoky little room?" Winter-Stars muses.

"Would you teach us some Laosian, Rasheeka?" Softwalker interjects. "Not all day, maybe. But part of it? I just want to know enough to understand when they say, 'Go here and do this,' or 'Don't touch that.' I mean, I get the idea when they yell and wave me off, but by then they're already mad.

Rasheeka looks between Winter-Stars and Softwalker for a moment, then nods to Softwalker. "Of course I'll teach you. I can even give you a little history lesson on Laos Enosi if that will help. We can probably meet here early in the day. If we are questioned, I will explain I am not working and did the teaching because I wanted to," she answers him. Then to Winter-Stars she signs, "I think it may always be smoky in that room. I think he is a shaman, or an artisan of the Neyemen and it helps him communicate with spirits. I read in An Encyclopedia of Hedge Wizardry: Primitive Magic Through the Ages, by Nerikan Slitherbane, that some shamans do that."

"I don't care why it's smoky. I wouldn't want to stay there all the time. I don't know how he can breathe like that." Winter-Stars wiggles her ears. "I want to learn Laosian, too! Will you teach us all?"

"Yes, of course I will." The thought of teaching feels strange to Rasheeka. After all, she has never truly taught anyone – not more than a mention here or a correction there anyway. She wonders if she'll be a good teacher and if the Laosians will approve or not. "I can find something to stand on and sign to you all."

First-Breath, a Savanite girl whose shyness rivals Rasheeka, leans into the conversation to sign, "You should teach them, especially." She points to the Rhians, who keep to themselves at the end of the table, isolated by their inability to speak not only Laosian, but even Khattan, or Savanite Sign.

Softwalker nods. "They have a hard time of it with the foreman. At least Knocker and I are used to being ordered around by pointing, and not being understood."

"Then I will," agrees the young Khatta. After rising from her seat she makes her way around the table to where the Rhians are where she leans forward and smiles at them. "Would you like to learn the language of these people?" she asks in Rephidim Standard.

Both of the bay equines turn their heads toward her, the expression on one as blank as if she spoke in Laosian. "You teach us? Them language?" the other asks, in thickly accented Rephidim Standard. He gestures around to the dining room and the natives seated at other tables to emphasize his meaning.

Rasheeka nods her head to the question. "I will teach you. You," she says, pointing at each of them in turn as she tries to make the explanation simple, "here," and then she points to the table, "tomorrow early. Next day, when you wake. No working tomorrow. A holiday."

The stallion pricks his ears at her final word. He exchanges a few sentences with his fellow, then nods to Rasheeka. "Understand. I try learn. Donnally, he try, too. He not good with languages." The stallion quirks one side of his mouth in a lopsided smile. "I not so good, either."

Rasheeka offers the stallions a bow in appreciation of their willingness to learn, thinking that a better means of thanking them than words. She then begins to walk back but suddenly pauses, rushes back, and tells them, "Eat a lot. No cooking tomorrow!" That said, she hurries back to her own seat so she can begin doing just that – she's starving after a day of learning. And what with all the talking she has been doing, she hasn't had time to eat. So the Khatta girl digs in, merrily exchanging signs with Winter-Stars about what they like and dislike about Laosian cooking.