The sky was a radiant indigo, clear as glacial water, no sign of meteors yet, and the city was arrayed below the restaurant in a gracefully concealing sunset glow. She could see the fires flaring from the refinery stacks in the industrial sector, the silhouettes of mosques and churches, the illuminated billboards along the Rue de Madagascar advertising Hindi movies, herbal toothpaste (in Farsi), and chain hotels.

Cruise ships in the harbor began to light up for the night. It was, if you squinted and thought nice thoughts, pretty. She might once have said exotic, but it no longer struck her that way.

She asked Turk how his business was doing.

He shrugged. "I pay the rent. I fly. I meet people. There's not much more to it than that, Lise. I don't have a mission in life."

Unlike you, he seemed to imply. Which led directly to the reason she had gotten in touch with him. She was reaching for her bag when the waiter showed up with ice water. She had barely glanced at the menu, but she ordered paella made with local seafood and seasoned with imported saffron. Turk asked for a steak, medium-well. Until fifteen years ago the most common terrestrial animal on Equatoria had been the water buffalo. Now you could buy fresh beef.

The waiter sauntered away and Turk said, "You could have called, you know."

Since the last time they had been together—since her expedition into the mountains, and a few uneasy arranged meetings afterward—he had phoned her a few times. Lise had returned his calls eagerly at first, then perfunctorily; then, when the guilt set in, not at all. "I know, and I'm sorry, but the last couple of months have been busy for me—"

"I mean today. You didn't have to drive all the way out to Arundji's just to make a date for dinner. You could have called."

"I thought if I called it might be too, you know, impersonal." He said nothing. She added, more honestly,

"I guess I wanted to see you first. Make sure things were still okay."

"Different rules out there in the wilderness. I know that, Lise. There are home things and there are away things. I figured we must have been…"

"An away thing?"

"Well, I figured that's how you wanted it."

"There's a difference between what you want and what's practical."

"Tell me about it." He smiled ruefully. "How are things with you and Brian?"

"Over."

"Really?"

"Officially. Finally."

"And that book you're working on?"

"It's the research that's slow, not the writing." She hadn't written a word, never would write a word.

"But it's why you decided to stay."

In the New World, he meant. She nodded.

"And what happens when you're done? You go back to the States?"

"Possibly."