* * *

Outside it was cold. Not very cold but colder than the humans were dressed for and cold enough to sting their smoke-irritated airways. The city had no seasons and its weather was consistently mild. Iona had only ever been aware of changeable weather as a dream concept: she had dreamed of storms, for example, and snow, but never experienced either. The sky above them was gray and cloudless and the sun hung low, shining weakly at them. It seemed to be morning here. In the city it had been afternoon.

They were walking along a pathway made of something that looked like concrete with a layer of rubber on top—materials that were familiar to Iona but which she had not seen for as long as she could remember. She felt surprised that she recognized them at all. The ground on either side of the pathway was stony and scrubby. The earth was a very dull, faded violet color.

The pathway split off and went in several different directions. Each fork of the pathway led to a large dome, maybe fifty or sixty meters high, with a smooth, dullish, off-green surface broken only by a small door. From where Iona stood she counted eight of these domes—quite possibly there were more out of sight—and she noted the thing she had just stepped out of was one of them. What Alyssa had said was true—the dome they’d been in was larger on the inside. Iona felt fascinated and wanted to know how it was done.

She wondered if she would get a chance to ask.

The three figures who had led them outside were still backing away. They addressed each other in noises that were presumably their language: a series of low, clicking sounds. When they reached the first fork on the pathway they stopped.

The humans took this as their cue to stop, at which point Iona fully appreciated how tired she was. She had a terrible headache and the adrenaline was no longer enough to prop her up.

“What now?” said Steve, who didn’t sound healthy either. Victor tried to reply but broke into coughing before he managed to say anything intelligible.

There was movement at the edges of Iona’s vision. The four humans turned to see six figures hurrying across the ground between the pathways. The humans tensed, assuming an ambush was imminent. But instead the six figures all poured into the humans’ dome before closing the door behind themselves.

The humans turned back to look at the three figures on the pathway. The one holding the thing that was probably a weapon took a small step closer and said in a smooth, mannered voice: “We have nowhere to put you.”

None of the humans had expected it to speak English, or anything they could recognize. It had spoken it oddly, putting emphasis in places no native speaker would, but it was English all the same. Iona was very surprised, but the fact she passed out a few seconds later had nothing to do with surprise. She passed out from exhaustion. The surprise was just a coincidence.