They speak about Mars. The crowdbustlecloseness of the surface. About the weight of a planet. About how a star looks from other stars. About what they’ve seen and Inga hasn’t. About what Inga knows from never leaving and what from leaving they’ll never know. They don’t speak about Darling at all, and they don’t speak about art, and they don’t speak about Astrid waitstayliving home or not. But they do.

Darling gies Eynar the tael

“And then the face just spat us out!”

Sheu’s smilan wide at the tig o daeth.

“Olaf steered us home safe,

but wouldn’t say another word,

as if the Light had taken his tongue.”

Eynar haads her glentan een.

“Fine tael,” he says, an notheen more.

“Oh, come on!” Sheu’s aafil fasht.

“It’s more than a tale. And I know we’re not

the only ones. I heard—” “Whit

did thoo hear?” Darling spys the danger

this time. “Oh,” sheu says, “Just

that other folk had seen strange things.

That folk are talking.” “Aye weel,” he says,

“fock spaek a lot o guff.” An he gangs

tae the back reum, whar surely thir wark.

Darling leuks aboot her. Thir

a puckle o fock i’the Hoose. “It’s not

just me,” sheu says tae naebody. “I know

you’ve seen them too.” Thir no a reply.

Darling tells Eynar the story

“And then the face just spat us out!” She’s smiling wide at the taptwitchtease of death. “Olaf steered us home safe, but wouldn’t say another word,

like the Light had taken his tongue.” Eynar holds her glinting eyes. “Good story,” he says, and nothing more. “Oh, come on!” She’s veryawfully fussvexworried.

“It’s more than a story. And I know we’re not the only ones. I heard—” “What did you hear?” Darling seespots the danger this time. “Oh,” she says, “Just

that other people had seen strange things. That folk are talking.” “Yes, well,” he says, “people say a lot of stinkpuffsnortnonsense.” And he heads to the back room, where there’s surely work.

Darling looks around. There are a few people in the House. “It’s not just me,” she says to no one. “I know you’ve seen them too.” There’s no reply.

The Dance

Aence, the fock at first cam here

kent a planet’s elliptiecal orbit,

seasons an a almanac,

Noo thir cruisies an year-roond wark.

But thay keepid the aalwarld time,

an cruisies is set tae Stannart Days,

whitivver thir staetion’s spin. Thir dances,

preens tae string the yearless year.

So Brenna and Higgie is stringan a line

atwart the Haa wi light-ap letters,

in a tong thay deu an dinno spaek,

spellan oot “Harvest Home”.

Ither fock redd an sweep the floar.

Eynar is biggan a bar i’the corner.

On stage, the band is checkan tuins

wi haand-held sinths an tings tae bang,

an a hollow body o wid an wire