“Well! That was an interesting cross-cultural adventure!” Melina said as they stepped onto the street, back in the direction of Elmtree. It was true dark now, and the only illumination came from the houses themselves—and that was directed more inward than out. Indeed, the gaily colored buildings seemed like nothing so much as oversized lanterns laid down on either side of the road. Nolan stepped carefully. Melina, of course, strode on without once looking at her feet. “That boy! Could he have been less helpful? Whoever taught them to talk that way?”

“Maybe that’s not how they talk to each other in goldtongue. Or maybe it is. All that honor stuff. Maybe they phrase things so indirectly to avoid offending anyone.”

Melina snorted. “Ridiculous way to behave. Never get anything accomplished. Pakt and Colt never talk like that.”

“Pakt and Colt know how to get along in the blueskin world,” Nolan said. Or at least Pakt did. Whether or not Colt had really learned the trick was yet to be seen.

The trip back seemed longer than the trip out, mostly because of the dark. They had arrived at Cloverton before it occurred to either of them to wonder if buses would be running after dark—particularly now, with the curfew in place. In fact, since most drivers were guldmen, the answer was probably “no,” which meant they faced a long, dreary trudge ahead of them.

“Well, nothing to do but start walking,” Melina said after they had waited on the corner for a few minutes and seen no other traffic. The retail stores at the intersection had all been closed for the day, so there was no shopkeeper to ask for information, and the only souls who appeared to be out at this hour were young children playing in their own yards. The guldmen, it appeared, were obeying the curfew; and the guldwomen, or so they had guessed, were not out much anyway. Therefore, they were on their own.

“It would have been nice if Dade had mentioned this little transportation problem,” Melina grumbled as she stumbled once over an obstruction in the road. “I might have timed our visit a little differently if I’d known the shuttles weren’t running.”

“He probably didn’t think you’d really come.”

“I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t. How far do you think it is to the Centrifuge?”

“Five miles. Maybe less. Take us about an hour and a half.”

But they had not walked more than fifteen minutes down Elmtree when Nolan heard the lumbering, sighing wheeze of a big vehicle coming up behind him. He spun around and began waving his arms before Melina had even caught the sound. It might be too dark for the driver to see them, but Nolan hoped his white shirt would reflect some of the nearby light—and sure enough, much to his relief, the bus groaned to a halt beside them in the road.