it’s rubbishscrap. On Mars she callherded the colours of the gas giant, the stones of a moon, the struttoilstrains of home,

and won the top marks and tutors’ admiration. She can’t look at those now.

And she was never keen on portraiture, but this morning she’s woken early

in Darling’s room above the House, and so she draws the finepretty visitor asleep.

The old exercises come to her fingers and she feels the alertquickkeensmoothness

she’s missed all these weeks. Astrid stops and puts the sketch aside and draws

from memory the islands of the Argyre Sea. The more they are easy and finepretty,

the more her heatragemadness grows, until the traitor stylus nearly snaps in her hand.

Gossip is Orcadia’s craesh

thinks Margit, waatchan her smoosie bairn

an Higgie the Codd both tell her aa

sheu needs tae ken an plenty sheu disno.

Sheu smiles an offers twatree wirds

tae seem sheu’s gien the sam as sheu’s taen.

Margit’s played this gaem fer years,

an Gunnie’s gey young tae ken the rules,

an Higgie’s gey aald tae bither noo.

Sheu drifts whan Gunnie reevles aboot

Astrid an the toorist, fer yin

sheu saa hersel, an mibbe wis kent

the meenit the pair o thaim landed. So whan

Higgie says, “Hid’s no jeust me,”

Margit disno ken whit sheu means.

But Higgie’s untentie gittan, sheu haes

a waant o tellan, a waant tae be haerd.

“Eynar is seen hid an aa, an Aslaug

wadno spaek aboot hid, but

A’m haerd her offiece wis horrid messed

on Thirday by. Hid’s somtheen tae deu

wi the Lights. Wir seen. But dinno tell,”

sheu says, more feart, gramsan thir airms.

“Dinno tell, fer I canno thole

fock sayan A’m gyte.” Her een is weet.

Margit kens her meaneen. Affens

fock say “dinno tell” tae say

“tell aabody, so I dinno hiv tae”,

but affens, “keep thee tong sneckid.”

Margit kens whit wey hid is,

an locks in Higgie’s news wi ither

news sheu’s lockid in, so sheu

can lock in whar the meaneen bides.

Gossip is Orcadia’s greasefat

thinks Margit, watching her nosy child and Higgie the Coder both tell her all she needs to know and plenty that she doesn’t. She smiles and offers a few words so it seems she’s given the same as she’s taken. Margit’s played this game for years, and Gunnie’s pretty young to know the rules and Higgie’s pretty old to bother now.

She drifts when Gunnie chatterprattles about Astrid and the tourist, because she’d seen that herself, and had probably known the minute they both landed. So when Higgie says, “It’s not just me,” Margit doesn’t know what she means. But Higgie’s become uncarefulwatchful, she wantneeds to tell, wantneeds to be heard.