She removed the red book from her purse, and untied the binding ribbon. The vellum sheets crackled when she unfolded them. For the hundredth time this morning she read the list of names, hoping they had changed. No such luck. “What can you tell me,” she said, “about Edmond Margot?”

“You talked with him at the open reading a few weeks back.”

“I talked with him. But I don’t know him, and you do, and I’m buying breakfast.”

“He came to the island a few seasons ago, after the rains. Lives alone. No lovers Eve’s figured. Good voice. Reminds me of some Iskari I knew back in the Wars. Ones as fought in the deltas, or in Southern Kath, when they came back from the jungle they were only echoes of what they’d been up-country.”

“He was a soldier?”

“No. He had that same aftermath feel though, an echo looking for the noise that made it. He found the noise here.” Mako grunted thanks as the waitress filled his coffee. She rolled her eyes and strutted off.

“What do you mean, found the noise?”

“He showed up at the Rest for the first time back after the rains, you know, with a sheaf full of poems, made a righteous thud when he set it down on the bar. Asked for, what’d he say, the right to perform. So I listened to some samples and I said no.”

“I didn’t think he was that bad.”

“You didn’t hear him then. His work had skin, but no bone, no marrow. All art, no.” He groped across the table, found Kai’s arm, squeezed hard. She grimaced and slapped his hand away. “You see.”

“And you told him no.”

“I’m not cruel. I told him start on the open stage, nobody likes some big shot they’ve never heard of coming in from abroad as if he’s gods’ gift to poesy. Perform with the others, quality will out, and they’ll clamor for Eve to give you a show.”

“That’s not cruel?”

“Maybe I was a little mean.” Mako scratched his head, and a moth flew out from his hair. “Anyway, he needed himself taken down a peg. Not his fault. Iskari don’t have natural rhythm. Comes from all the squid-goddery, you know. Worship something that doesn’t eat, sleep, screw like you do, do that for a few thousand years, and see if you don’t lose your rhythm. Even in bed they work funny: all straps and ties and games.”

Kai’s hand hurt where he’d grabbed her. The waitress brought her toast, cold, and topped up her coffee. The toast crumbled in her mouth as if baked with sand instead of flour. “Margot didn’t do well on the open stage, is what you’re saying.”