“Right. Thank you. I have never done this.”

“I know.”

“Of course you know. I just…I don’t want to get it wrong. I don’t…” Dirva laid a hand on my arm. I calmed a little. I looked over at his match, and she looked back. Even in the factory clothes, she had an elegance to her. She had regal features. She held out a hand to me. “Nisa. Nisa Sidera’Chadan. You’re Ariah?”

She had a strong handshake. “Yes.”

“He speaks of you often.”

“Oh, well.” I laughed nervously. “We’re cut from the same cloth. You do know why I’m here, yes?”

She gave me a strange look. “Yes, I do. The date has been set for weeks.”

“Right! Yes! I, uh, I mean that…it doesn’t matter what I meant. It doesn’t matter. So, I…” I cut a glance at Dirva. I lost my train of thought and found it again. “Questions! I’m to ask you questions. Let’s see. You have a factory assignment?”

“I do,” she said. “Prototypes. Engineering. I’m in the workshops, not the assembly line. Train work. Engine work.” She leaned forward slightly, conspiratorial, sly. “Chasing the dream, you know. Perpetual motion.”

“Are you getting very close?”

She laughed. “And work myself out of this placement? No.”

There was an odd silence. I remembered suddenly that I was the one asking the questions. “Where are you from?”

“Here. Rabatha. I’ve never been anywhere else.”

I struggled for more questions. Everything I wanted to ask seemed rude or was rude. I wanted to know what gifts she had. I wanted to know what her politics were, and if she had ever been arrested, and what she had been arrested for. I wanted to ask her what she was like, but it seemed a strange question to ask. Failing that, I wanted to read her. It was hard not to. Frankly, I was a bit useless. I turned to Dirva. “May we speak in private?”

“Ariah, already?”

“Yes?”

Dirva sighed. A hint of nervousness crossed Nisa’s face. The matchmaker pointed to the door, and Dirva and I slipped out to the hallway. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” I said.

“I can see that.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to ask. What am I supposed to ask?”

Dirva shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I’ve never been matched before. My parents weren’t matched.” He leaned against the wall. “She knows I am unconventional. She did not run away screaming. I think you should just ask what you want to ask. Within reason.”

“Oh. All right.”

Dirva leaned forward suddenly. “What do you think of her?”