Accordingly, the next morning, Kit left the house early and took the limo to the city. A few of Sereva’s servants had volunteered to run errands and pick up groceries and, in general, brave the infectious perils of the world, so Kit had begged a ride from one of them. The streets were eerily deserted, only a few hardy souls walking the lonely sidewalks, cloths around their mouths to filter out germs and shoulders hunched to ward off unspecified dangers. It took the driver almost no time to cross the empty roads and deposit Kit on the doorstep she had requested.

Melina Lurio lived in a modern three-story building with classical lines but unusual decoration in a neighborhood of houses that similarly mixed the traditional with the avant-garde. A hush hung over the whole street, and no one appeared to be stirring, either inside or out of the modish apartments, but that didn’t stop Kit. She boldly climbed the three steps to the front entrance hall, located the interior door that matched the number she had found in the directory, and knocked imperiously.

After a long pause, during which Kit knocked twice more, the door was opened by a slim blueskin woman who looked mid-caste, tired, and irate. “Yes?” she said shortly.

Kit stepped so close she was almost over the threshold, though this put her practically face to face with the woman at the door. “My name is Kitrini Candachi. I need to see Melina Lurio.”

“You can’t. She’s sleeping. She’s been very busy this whole week working at—”

“Yes, I know, she’s a Biolab scientist,” Kit said impatiently. “Doing important work. I need to see her. I need to ask her about Nolan.”

“Nolan!” the woman repeated sharply. “Do you know him?”

“Yes. Do you?”

The woman shrugged and shook her head in an indeterminate motion that was supposed to convey “no” but looked unsure enough to be “yes.” She said, “Melina has talked of him. In the past.”

“Does she know where he is now?”

“Why would she?” the woman asked with an attempt at belligerence. She didn’t have true animosity in her, though; it came off more as apprehension.

“Because somebody must. I need to find him.”

“I’ll tell her you came looking. I can’t wake her up now. She needs her sleep.”

“I’ll wait here till she wakes.”

The woman tried to close the door, but Kit had rested her shoulder against it and did not budge. “You have to leave now,” the woman said with a somewhat pathetic attempt to be severe. “It’s too important that Melina be allowed to get her rest—”

But there was a small commotion behind them and a weary voice from the other side of the door. “What’s the problem, Julitta? Is it the reporters again?”