The air pressure this far beneath the surface was sufficiently high to obviate the need for protective gear, or for even a breather mask to reduce the risk of anoxia, since the atmosphere was otherwise entirely breathable. A town called Amuza Urbo nestled on the chasm floor, its buildings abutting or even climbing the steep walls, like ivy composed of steel and carbon. There was an organic fluidity to the architecture, too, that made this comparison more than apt; for many of the buildings, she had learned, were the product of advanced gene tech, being the distant and highly modified descendants of earth-bound trees and coral reefs.

The streets were packed with people dressed in brightly coloured finery, dancing to music that echoed off the lofty cliffs surrounding them. There were vendors everywhere, selling street food that smelled exotic and enticing to Dakota.

Trust us to arrive in carnival season, she said, reaching up to wipe the sweat from her brow. She still felt too warm, even in the soft and light fabrics she had dressed herself in before coming down from orbit. Her intention had been to look nondescript, but that ordinariness instead caused them both to stand out amongst the garish crowds.

She suddenly caught sight of a cluster of women equipped with huge multicoloured wings, which were clearly actual physical appendages rather than costumes. Some of them were dancing around with a man she at first thought was dressed in a bird costume, before realizing that his beak and feathers were real.

Primal and strident, the rhythm of the music beat all around them, setting up a sympathetic vibration in her blood. As she inhaled a lungful of sweet smoke that tickled the roof of her mouth, she glanced at Bash and he grinned back as if the last ten years had never happened.

Hard to resist, isnt it?

She nodded: it was hard to resist. She could smell raw sans de sezi in the air, and through the crowd caught a glimpse of a man bright-eyed and ecstatic leaning against a wall as he laughed uproariously, his hands and mouth vividly stained orange from the narcotic spore.

Come on, urged Bash, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her into a tight knot of thrashing bodies gathered around a band performing with thunderingly loud amplification. A number of the heaving, gyrating bodies around them wore so little clothing they might as well have gone naked for all the difference it made.

His broad, dark face split in a grin, Bash started to move in time with the beat, taking hold of her hand and whirling her around. She laughed, and just let the music take her, dancing for all she was worth as he spun her around and around.