“It is not a pastime I care for, frankly,” Nolan said. “I have no heart for attack and counterattack. I have no taste for betraying my longtime allies. I am a straightforward man, and a simple one. I have done what I can for you and your people. Now let Kit go. Let her return to the city with me.”

“No,” Chay said.

“Then I will stay and wait out your illness with her.”

Chay gestured, and two guards entered the room. “No,” Chay said again. “Your luggage is in the hall. You will be escorted to Zakto Station within the hour. You will be accompanied on your journey back to the city, and for that trip you will be quite protected. But enter Geldricht again without an invitation, and I do not believe you will go unmolested. My people have been told that the indigo grow treacherous, and they will look with suspicion upon any of your race.”

The guards had hold of Nolan by both arms. He would not let them drag him from the room. He would walk out with what dignity he could manage. But he backed out slowly, his eyes never leaving Kit’s face. Chay he ignored; Nolan had spoken his last words, given his last aid to the guldman.

“Kit,” he said, coming to a halt at the threshold. “I love you. Come to me when you return to the city.”

“She may choose not to return,” Chay said.

Nolan ignored him. “I love you,” he said again. “Come to me.”

“Nolan,” she said, and not another word. The guards pulled him from the room, and the door shut between them. The march down to the front gates took nearly twenty minutes. In the grand hallway, his guards collected his suitcase, and they were on their way to the train station. Back to the city. Back to Inrhio.

Back to a world that no longer existed.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

As far as traffic was concerned, life in the city was almost back to normal. The Centrifuge was still under reconstruction, but a fleet of buses and trolleys had been installed to carry traffic to every possible destination, and so the daily commute was again possible. Nolan assumed he would find this very handy if he still had a job.

He had been gone from the city nearly two weeks, and away from his apartment for even longer. Entering it now, mid-afternoon on an uncomfortably hot day, he found that it smelled dusty, stale, and unfamiliar, but not as bad as he had thought it might. No rotting trash, no unfortunate plumbing leaks left unattended too long. Still, there was something peculiar about it, stranger than the smells of emptiness and neglect, and he moved from room to room trying to identify what.

Color.