Oh, yes. Nolan had forgotten. This was the way an uncooperative gulden would always speak to an impatient blueskin, in the most roundabout, indirect fashion imaginable. At the lab, they were all too busy to indulge in such affectations, though Nolan had heard Colt and Dade and even Pakt use such oblique commentaries when they were dealing with vendors or security officers or anyone else who had raised their ire. The practice nearly drove the efficient Melina mad; she could not stand any senseless waste of time.

“Yes. To interpret for me. I am Melina, this is Nolan, we’re friends of Colt’s. Is he here?”

“Strange to think that a guldman might have friends among the indigo,” the boy replied.

“Strange but true. We’ve come to offer him help—anything he might need. Can you tell him we’re here?”

“With such a commotion at the door, anyone within would know there are visitors.”

Melina digested that a moment in silence. “You mean he’s not here? Will he be coming home anytime soon?”

The boy looked up at the sky as if gauging time. The saffron twilight had deepened to an opaque blue; filmy curtains of night seemed to hang suspended between each of the neighborhood houses. “Wherever a guldman is now, he will most likely stay till dawn,” was the unhelpful reply.

“What? He’s not coming home? Is that what you mean?”

Nolan touched her on the arm to catch her attention. He thought she might be ready to grab the boy and give him a good hard shake. Bad idea, though. “Curfew,” Nolan said briefly. “If Colt’s not home now, he can’t come in after dark.”

“Damn. I forgot. A wasted trip, then.”

“Not if the point was to let Colt know you were worried about him.”

“I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to see his face.”

Nolan addressed the boy. “Can we leave him a note? Can you bring us something to write with?”

The boy didn’t seem to be able to come up with any oblique way to say “yes” to that, so he nodded and ducked away from the door. Melina paced back and forth on the narrow porch, more agitated than Nolan had expected.

“Don’t be so upset,” he said. “You couldn’t do anything for him even if you saw him face-to-face. He might not even be pleased to see you. Did you think of that?”

“Of course I thought of that! He’d probably throw us out in the street if he saw us! It’s just that—I’m worried about him. He can’t come to me if he needs something. And I’m just afraid—he’ll do something stupid. I wanted to tell him not to.”

“He’s Colt,” Nolan said. “He’ll do whatever he wants.”