"How were you taken?" said Bellis.

"Twice," said Carrianne. "I was stolen and stolen again. We were sailing our whim-trawler for Kohnid in Gnurr Kett. That’s a long, hard journey. I was seventeen. I won the lottery to be figurehead and concubine. I spent the daylight strapped to the bowsprit, scattering orchid petals in front of the ship, spent the night reading the men’s cards and in their beds. That was dull, but I enjoyed the days. Dangling there, singing, sleeping, watching the sea.

"But a Dreer Samher war cog intercepted us. The Samheri were jealous of their trade with Kohnid. They had a monopoly-do they still?" she added suddenly, and Bellis could only shake her head uncertainly, I don’t know.

"Well, they strapped our captain to my place below the bowsprit and scuttled the ship. Most of the men and women they put on lifeboats with a few provisions, and pointed in the direction of the coast. It was a long way away, and I doubt they made it.

"Some of us they kept aboard. There was no ill treatment beyond cuffs and rudeness. I tortured myself stupid wondering what they’d do to me, but then came the second interception. Dry Fall riding needed ships, and sent poachers out. Armada was far south of here then, so Dreer Samher boats were perfect prey."

"And… and how did you…? Did you find it hard," said Bellis, "when you came here?"

Carrianne looked at her for a while.

"Some of the cactacae," she said, "never adjusted. They refused, or tried to escape, or attacked their guards. I suppose they were killed. Me and my companions…?" She shrugged. "We’d been rescued, so it was very different.

"But, yes, it was hard, and I was miserable, and I missed my brother, and all of that. But, you see, I made a choice. I chose to live, to survive.

"After a time some of my shipmates moved out of Dry Fall. One lives in Shaddler, another in Thee-And-Thine. But mostly we stayed in the riding that took us in." She ate for a little while, then looked up again. "It can be done, you know. You will make this place your home."

She meant it reassuringly. She was being kind. But to Bellis it sounded like a threat.

Carrianne was talking to her about the ridings.

"Garwater you know," Carrianne said, her voice deadpan. "The Lovers. The scarred Lovers. Fucked-up bastards. The Clockhouse Spur you know."

The intellectuals’ quarter, thought Bellis, like Brock Marsh in New Crobuzon.

"Shaddler’s the scabmettlers’. Bask. Thee-And-Thine." Carrianne was counting off the ridings on her fingers. "Jhour. Curhouse, The Democratic Council. That brave redoubt. And Dry Fall," she concluded. "Where I live."

"Why did you leave New Crobuzon, Bellis?" she said unexpectedly. "You don’t seem to me the colonist type."

Bellis looked down. "I had to leave," she said. "Trouble."

"With the law?"

"Something happened…" She sighed. "I did nothing, nothing at all." She could not keep the bitterness out of her voice. "A few months ago there was a sickness in the city. And… there were rumors that someone I knew was involved. The militia were working their way through everyone he’d known, everyone he’d had involvement with. It was obvious they’d come for me, eventually. I never wanted to leave." She spoke carefully. "It was no choice."