But women need not wed these men.
Hygd:
We are good human currency, like gold,
For men to pass among them when they choose.
A child's hands beat on the outside of the door beyond the bed.
Cordeil's Voice (a child's voice, outside):
Father ... Father ... Father ... Are you here?
Merryn, ugly Merryn, let me in ...
I know my father is here ... I want him ... Now ...
Mother, chide Merryn, she is old and slow ...
Hygd (softly):
My little curse. Send her away — away....
Cordeil's Voice:
Father... O, father, father... I want my father.