“But… why? Why would you do that? I’m… I’m not anybody. I don’t understand—”

“How else can I expect you to do your job efficiently? Besides which, those raw sheets of tin would wreak havoc on our floors.”

Dyeawan begins to feel as if she’s falling down a long, dark, narrow hole, and just slow enough to make her believe the fall won’t hurt.

“My job?”

“Yes. I’d like to offer you a job here, if you’re willing.”

“And where is here, Edger? If it’s okay to ask.”

He nods, dipping the mask in time with the gesture and making both motions seem awkward and unnatural.

“Of course. You’re on a small island off the coast of the Capitol. It’s very lovely and very private. And this place is called the Planning Cadre. We help solve Crache’s… well… everyday problems. The sky carriages, the streetlights, they were all invented here, by people like me. It’s our job to come up with ideas that would make Crachian life better, and then devise how to make those ideas real.”

When Dyeawan slid atop the tender less than an hour ago, she was certain nothing would ever be that remarkable again. But hearing such a place could exist, does exist, and more than that she’s inside it, is beyond remarkable.

“But what could I do here?” she asks. “I’m not… like you.”

“It takes all types of ingenuity to keep this place running, I assure you. You’d be a helper. And much needed, believe me. We have many, and they’re still never enough. In the early mornings you’d help sweep up the floors. That tender we’ve given you will be ideal for ferrying equipment and deliveries from place to place quickly within the Cadre.”

“I can do all that,” Dyeawan says quickly. “I’d be happy to do it.”

Edger replaces his cordial smile with a mask that captures his face in the midst of laughing heartily, and though it’s even more disturbing than the frozen smile, Dyeawan has become determined not to let it bother her.

“I’m delighted to hear that, Slider,” he says. “And I appreciate your enthusiasm.”

He lowers the laughing mask and selects a new one. The expression isn’t quite stern, but it’s the most serious face he’s yet worn in front of her.

“Now, to the matter of your compensation. We are not a wealthy arm of the nation, you understand. But we can offer you room and board. Three meals a day. And I assume your current accommodations are to your liking?”

Dyeawan quickly nods. “I’ve never had a room of my own before.”

“I’m very sorry for that, and glad to change it. Does that mean the conditions are acceptable to you?”

She nods.

“May I ask one more question, though?”