He shook his head. “I don’t think so. Parity would be not noticing—the very first thing I notice about a man!—if he is indigo or gold. It would be looking at a woman and thinking ‘Isn’t she attractive?’ even if she was gulden. Some indigo men are able to do it. You see them, now and then, with the gilt girls on the city streets. I can imagine no situation in which I would allow myself to become involved with a gulden girl. But if I were able to achieve parity in my heart, would that be so unthinkable? I cannot help myself—I consider the mere thought a degradation. I don’t believe I will ever overcome that bone-deep distaste. And I am lax by indigo standards. I see no hope for the races to ever come together in harmony.”

This time, his words left her colder and colder. Kit had actually wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the chill of his confession. It shouldn’t matter what he said. He was a lunatic, and he had practically abducted her; she should be glad to think they could not share an emotion in common. But she hugged herself tighter and thought, blindly, What a terrible day.

Suddenly, his voice changed, became less intense and more concerned. “Look, you’re shivering. I have a sweater in my bag here, would you like it?”

“No—no, I’m fine,” she said.

“Maybe you’ll feel better if you get something to eat,” he said. “Do they serve hot drinks? Something to warm you up.”

Of course; moments ago they had been planning to fetch food. Kit rose shakily to her feed. “Good idea. Let’s eat.”

The food car, adjacent to theirs, was practically empty. There were four stands set up along one wall, each staffed by two or three family members, mostly men. One vendor sold meat, one sold fruit, one sold cheese and eggs, one sold beverages. The contracts for these stands were lucrative and jealously guarded; some gulden families had owned franchises for years.

“What do you recommend?” Nolan asked.

“Are you familiar with gulden food?”

“A little. I’ve eaten at some of the fashionable restaurants. And I’ve been to Pakt’s house, though he was careful what he served.”

“Then I’d stick with the things you know. Now is not the time to get sick experimenting with native cuisine.”

“All right, then. I’ll get a meat pie and some fruit. What do you want? Do I have to order for you, too, or just pay?”

“Order, too, though I suppose I’ll have to translate.”

“Will that be acceptable?”

“Oh, yes, as long as you appear to be making the decisions.”