Cerisa rose to her feet. “The preservation of the indigo race! It is an assault on us from all sides by the gulden! They attack our buildings and our institutions, so that the city is not safe for innocent people to live in. They thwart our attempt toward progress, denying us the right to expand and grow. But worst—and don’t tell me you haven’t seen this!—they have begun to intermingle with our people. Twelve years ago, when my own daughter was approached by a gulden man, our government knew what to do to stop such outrage. But now? What do you see on the streets every day? Gilt girls walking hand in hand with well brought up blueskin boys—it makes me sick to my stomach to see it. There were fifteen interracial marriages in the city last year, did you know that? Fifteen! The year before that there were only three, and the year before that, one. Before that, none! It wasn’t to be thought of! But now, they grow bold and fearless. They think they can be just like us. They think they are as good as we are. They think they can make us just like them. But they’re wrong. And they must be stopped.”

“You’re the one who has to be stopped, Cerisa,” Nolan said. “You and Ariana Bayless and however many dried-up old fanatic hags there are like you in the city. If there’s two of you, there must be more. I hadn’t thought about that before. I guess I’ll figure out how to deal with the rest of them later, when I know who they are.”

She gave a laugh of pure disbelief. “Deal with them!” she exclaimed. “How do you think you’re going to deal with us?”

He took a moment to study her face. He had always thought she was the quintessential Higher Hundred matriarch, with the bone structure that had been copied over and over again onto the faces of all the women he knew. But now, he was relieved to see, he could note subtle differences. There were angles and secrets in her face that he had never seen in Leesa’s, never seen in his mother’s. She was not the prototype. She was the aberration.

“I’ve already dealt with you,” he said softly. “I’ve told my story to the gulden press. Your name and Ariana Bayless’s name will be on every monitor in the city tomorrow morning.”

For the first time, he had shocked her. She reared back in horror, and her blue face turned dark with anger. “You didn’t,” she said.

“Oh, I did. Names, dates, places. And a hard copy printout from your computer for proof. The GGP file. Gulden genocide plan.”