Once, Cat bent to mark up a loading dock, but a drover chased her off before she could erase her writing. She apologized, crossed the street, and walked on. Izza ran to the ramp after the drover’s cart passed, and knelt to read. Five men pushed squeaking wheelbarrows down the sidewalk past her. She had not expected to understand the language Cat left behind, but she couldn’t even place the script. Sharp lines and angles, letters made for chisel and knife, and beneath it all a great smiling mouth.

“Following me for a reason,” Cat said behind her, “or just bored?”

Izza spun and rose, weight on the balls of her feet, ready to fight or flee.

Cat stood well out of reach, arms crossed, grinning a slight self-satisfied grin.

“Don’t worry about it. Come on.” She nodded south. “Walk with me.” Before they left, she erased the signs.

They passed old folk seated behind carpets spread with baubles of almost-silver and not-quite-gold, sculptures of imitation lapis and real handwoven grass. The farther south they walked, the wider the streets grew. Steel and glass and poured concrete displaced stone and brick and plaster. The ships moored at dock changed, too. Fewer sails, and less wood; more metal, more towers glimmering with sorcery. Cranes swung to load and unload. Gears ground and the smell of spent lightning overlaid that of smoke and sea. The people here did not ramble, but moved from point to point, or in circles, like gears themselves. Zombies guarded the gates of chain-link fences. Cat paused every few blocks to make and erase her notes.

“What’s that for?” Izza asked.

“For safety,” Cat said. “And for the future.”

“I thought you were just trying to draw me in.”

“That too.” She cracked her neck, and then her knuckles.

“Looks like a religious symbol.”

“It is, kind of. You know how gods aren’t allowed on the island? They’re nervous about contamination up there on Kavekana’ai, want to keep other deities as far away as possible. Customs block even a trace of joss.”

“Sure.”

“I still smell of old goddess. That’s why I was in trouble the night we met. I’d snuck on a ship, but customs found me; I jumped ship and swam to shore, but the Penitents caught my scent. I don’t want that to happen again, so I leave marks and holy symbols, spreading the scent around.” She threw the chalk up in the air and caught it. “Classic misdirection. So what did you track me down to ask?”

“Am I that obvious?”

“Pretty much.”

They passed a fenced-in yard where Penitents marched between shipping containers, opening one after another for inspection while nervous men with clipboards watched. “What happens when a goddess dies?”

Cat’s stride caught. She turned back to Izza. “Hell of a question.”

“You know more about gods than anyone I trust.”