kens the guff o traed. Sheu poynts the wey.

Darling’s waatchan the fock on the pier fae the transport –

twa aalder fock tae meet yin ither lass,

at disno seem tae ken whar sheu’s comed an aa –

an Margit waatches wha hid is haads whas ee.

“Thir,” sheu says, an looder again, “That wey.”

Darling tries tae gaither Martian manners.

“Thank you so so much,” says Darling. “I’m Darling.”

Anither first: sheu blushes, seean Margit’s

edge o a smirk an hearan Margit’s “Ir thoo.”

The visitor, Darling, looks for a placedistancepartwhile to waitstaylive

“Just to look,” she says, catching the point of the boat worker’s question. She has been reading about the Wreck-Havenharbour’s mystery, about the boats landing their haulcatch of Lights, about the stormstrifestrainspeeddust in the golden seatimetide, about the peace of distance,

about a strangerweird way of speaking, of working, of praying, of waitstayliving, belonging, and wanted to look. But now she’s asking the first personbody she saw in the hangar for the first directions, and stammers, for the first time not knowing how to explain herself.

“Is that so?” says the woman, not asking. A sallow shorttoughbutch personbody, her cleverquicksharp hands are deep in the wires of her craft. “You should speak to Eynar at the House. It’s what you’d call our bar. He’ll help. Tell him Margit sent you.” Like Eynar, Margit

knows the stinkpuffsnortnonsense of trade. She points the way. Darling’s watching the folk on the pier from the transport – two older folk to meet that other girlwoman, who doesn’t seem to know where she’s come either – and Margit watches who is holding whose eye.

“There,” she says, and louder again, “That way.” Darling tries to gather Martian manners. “Thank you so so much,” says Darling. “I’m Darling.” Another first: she blushes, seeing Margit’s edge of a smile and hearing Margit’s “Is that so.”

Astrid an Darling settle in

Astrid aets wi her fock. “Thoo’ll wirk?”

speirs Inga ower the protein soup.

“A’m here tae draa,” says Astrid. “Tae wirk

at me art. A’m needan ideas fae haem.”

“Yass,” says Inga, “grand that. Thoo’ll tak

a job or twa fae the rotas forbye.”

Øyvind touches Astrid’s airm.

“Hid’s grand thoo’re haem. Thir plenty time.”

Halfweys roond the staetion, Darling,

breeksed wi sailan, pangit wi hopp,

sits i’the Hoose wi a plaet o maet.

Eynar teuk it tae her, sportan

a apron an a smile. Sheu tryd

tae speir him aboot his fock an the staetion:

he nodded an brustled back tae the bar.

Sheu waatches the fock an aets her maet.

Astrid spaeks aboot the journey,

aboot whit her pals in Mars is deuan.

The wirds is lood in thir peedie quaaters.

Inga an Øyvind’s speuns rudge.

Darling notts a plan on her slaet

o whit sheu waants tae see; she hopps