Outside, Falise glanced through the fence at the low-hanging sun in the west. It cast the silhouetted lines of crops in a glow, burned a rime of gold on the distant treetops that marked the edge of the bush.

Turning her steps down the street, she passed the line of domes, occupied now with contractees. At the main avenue she turned south, made her way to The Jewel.

Inside, she found Allison, talking with the bartender, Vik, and Angelina the whore. People were playing pinochle at a table in the back. A couple of quetzal-dressed, bearded ruffians let out a howl as Dalia spun the roulette wheel.

Marching up to Allison, she met the woman’s curious blue-eyed stare. Given her figure and quick mind, Allison could have been a guild courtesan. In another time and place, she’d have been exactly the kind Derek would have demanded.

“I’m looking for my brother,” Falise said.

Gaze still level, Allison told her, “Last I heard Dek was up at the cemetery. It’s been a tough day. Lot of graves to be filled. He and Tal brought in what they could find of Mother Sczui. Not a sign of the kids so they’re probably quetzal shit. You might catch him at the hospital. If not, try Inga’s in an hour or two.”

Falise turned on her heel, wishing she had something on her feet besides these ridiculous translucent designer shoes. The wrap-around sari was bad enough. Perfect for an evening at Three Spires, it looked garish, out of place for this rustic backwater, even if it did have the same laser-like brilliance of quetzal-hide.

She kept her eyes averted from the spot where Ednund had died. Felt a wave of relief run through her when she noted that the place they’d left his tarped remains was vacant. Well enough, she supposed. She needed to make arrangements for his body.

But . . . what? Ship the pieces up to Turalon? If she chose Turalon, would Abibi insist Ednund’s remains be dropped into the hydroponics along with everything else organic? Or should Falise order that they be frozen for return to Transluna? And then what? Have them cremated and put in a jar? If he’d been killed on Transluna, she’d have simply ordered Clarice to dispose of the corpse.

What made it so different here? Now?

She kept her eyes forward, ignored the stares as she passed people on the street. Made her way to the hospital. Opening the double doors, she stared around.