“Mother Willo said you’d be wanting something to eat,” Dori said. “Good to see you up and about.” She carried the tray into Han’s room and set it on the table, then sat down on one of the beds and drew her knees up, propping her feet on the bed frame as if she meant to stay awhile. She had a round, pretty face marred by rather narrow blue eyes and a small, unhappy mouth. He couldn’t tell much about the shape of her under the robes, but she looked rather plush.

“Well, thanks,” Han said, sitting down on the other bed and pulling the napkin off the tray. He’d worried it might be porridge or some other invalid food, but it was a good slab of cheese, a hunk of brown bread, and some fruit. He tucked into it, washing it down with cups of water.

“I’m Dori,” she said, leaning forward and sticking her face in close as if jealous of the attention the food was getting. “An’ you’re Cuffs Alister,” she added, nodding wisely. “I’ve heard of you. Everybody has.”

“Good to meet you,” Han said with his mouth full.

“I’m a first-year dedicate,” she said. “Before that, I lived in Blackberry Alley.”

“Hmmm,” Han said, and when she continued to look at him expectantly, added, “How’d you decide to become a dedicate?”

“Oh, ’twas my mother’s idea,” Dori said. “One less mouth to feed at home, she said. It was that or lady’s maid.”

“Ah. How do you like it?”

“It’s all right, I guess.” She tugged dispiritedly at her robe. “I get tired of wearing these all the time,” she said. “I wish they came in colors, at least.”

She leaned forward and said conspiratorially, “What’s it like, being leader of the Raggers? I heard there was a thousand-girlie price on your head.”

“That’s not me,” Han said, thinking he should letter it across the front of his robe. “People make that mistake all the time. I don’t run with gangs.”

“Oh,” Dori said, disappointed. “So you never killed nobody, I guess.” Then, after a pause, “But you got fair hair like him. I never seen a boy with hair so fair as yours. It’s near as light as mine. See?” She wound a strand of her hair around her forefinger and held it out for his inspection.

Han finished off the last of the bread and cheese and licked his fingers. “Thanks for dinner,” he said, yawning and lying back on his pillows, hoping she would get the hint and leave.

But instead she came and sat down on the edge of his bed, seized hold of his good hand, and pushed back his sleeve. “You’re wearing the silver,” she said, glaring at him like he’d tried to pick her pocket. “You’re Cuffs Alister, you got to be.”