"We knew we’d have to be open about this some time," she continued. Her lover nodded.

There were scientists from Jhour and Shaddler and The Clockhouse Spur taking part in the attempt to raise the avanc, and the rulers of those ridings had been consulted out of courtesy. But the inner circle was all Garwater: those who once had not been, the Lovers had, in a breach of tradition, persuaded to defect. Information about the project was tightly circumscribed.

But a plan of such magnitude could not be hidden forever.

"We have the Sorghum," said the Lover, "so we decide where we all go. But what will the rest of the city think while they sit stranded in some patch of sea waiting for our landing party to return? What are they going to think when we reach the sinkhole, raise the damned avanc? Their rulers won’t talk: our allies take our lead, and our enemies don’t want this in the open. They’re afraid of which way their people will turn.

"Perhaps," she concluded slowly, "it’s time to bring the citizens to our side. Enthuse them…"

She looked at her partner. As always, they seemed to be communicating silently.

"We need lists," the Lover said, "of everyone who should go to the island. We must look at new arrivals-there may be expertise we’ve missed. And we need security details for all candidates. And we have to represent all ridings." He smiled, his scars tracing the contours of his face, and picked up Bellis’ translation.

When Johannes reached the door, the Lovers called his name.

"Come with us," said the Lover, and Johannes’ stomach yawed uneasily.

Oh Jabber,he thought. What now? I’ve had enough of your company.

"Come and talk to us," the Lover continued, and waited while his partner finished for him.

"We want to talk to you about this woman, Coldwine," she said.

Past midnight, Bellis was woken by a repeated banging on her door. She looked up, thinking it must be Silas, until she saw him lying motionless and awake beside her.

It was Johannes. She tugged her hair out of her face and blinked at him on her doorstep.

"I think they’re going to go ahead," he said. Bellis gasped.

"Listen, Bellis. They were… well, intrigued by you. What they’ve heard has suggested that… well, that you’re not their material. Nothing bad, you know?" He was eager to mollify her. "Nothing, you know, dangerous… but not exactly sympathetic. Like a lot of press-ganged: best left aboard at all costs. It’s normally years before incomers get letters of pass."

Was that all it was? thought Bellis slowly. The misery and loneliness, the aching for New Crobuzon that made her feel something had been torn from her-was it just an everyday symptom, shared by a thousand like her? Was it so banal?