“Eynar saw it too, and Aslaug wouldn’t speak about it, but I heard her office was veryhorribly messed up last Thirdday. It’s something to do with the Lights. We’ve seen. But don’t tell,” she says, more scared, snatchgrabbing their arms. “Don’t tell, because I can’t stand folk saying I’m crazy.” Her eyes are wetrain.

Margit knows what she means. Often, people say “don’t tell” to mean “tell everybody, so I don’t have to”, but often, “keep your tongue on the latch.” Margit knows whathowwherewhy it is, and locks in Higgie’s news with other news she’s locked in, so she can lock in where the meaning waitstaylives.

Gunnie Margitsbairn canno keep a secret

“Higgie’s clean gyte,” thay say. Brenna is soor

fae her failure at the Ting, an says,

“Sheu isno the only een. Erlend telt me

a uncan min in some sort o siller robb

speired him fer the time, an saantit, an Sigurd

saa tree fock like aalwarld cosmonaats,

flags an aa, chappan at his airlock,

an Auga says—” she disno tak a braeth

“—thir seean ships i’the rouk wi drives at isno

been invented.” “Aye. Gyte,” says Gunnie,

shakkan thir heid an sighan, aafil sad,

an Brenna says, “False consciousness.” “Whit?”

“Thay canno right accept whit maan be deun,

so thir tellan taels instaed.” “Yass, yass,

thir gyte.” Gunnie gies her airm a dunt,

waantan tae haad hid, kennan sheu’s raedy tae cup

intae her awn kinno ree, an naeraboot waantan

tae loup in ahint. Oot the screen, the spin

o Orcadia turns thaim tae the haaf, awey

fae the gowd leam o the yotun. The wynd mirkens.

“Hid’s like thir waantan wir piece tae dee,” says Brenna,

an Gunnie’s bithert thirsel at that. “Na, na,”

thay say, ower quiet. “Thir jeust no sure

whit’ll survive the chaenge.” An the staetion birls.

Gunnie Margitschild can’t keep a secret

“Higgie’s gone completely crazy,” they say. Brenna is sourbitterrudemiserable from her failure at the Council, and says, “She’s not the only one. Erlend told me a strangerweird man in some sort of silver robes asked him for the time, and spirited away, and Sigurd saw three folk like old-world cosmonauts, flags and everything, knocking on his airlock, and Auga says—” she doesn’t draw breath “—they’ve seen ships in the fogfrost with drives that haven’t been invented.” “Yes. Crazy,” says Gunnie, shaking their head and sighing, veryawfully sad, and Brenna says, “False consciousness.” “What?”