“My family . . .” she said, speaking clearly for the first time.

The young doctor who had been examining her chart looked alarmed at the unexpected conversation. “Your employer contacted them, but we haven’t allowed visitors—”

“My tenant . . . my house . . .” These were not idle concerns. There were strict laws about City residency. If Miranda’s house stayed unoccupied by a Freeman for more than three months, it could be placed on the auction list and she would lose her landed status.

“I’ll speak to your employer. He’s handling all your affairs.”

Miranda felt somewhat easier. Khabir was a good lawyer and a good friend. He had the sense to identify what needed to be done and the wherewithal to do it.

Her focus shifted to more pressing matters, like the small victory of the first spoonful of soup she was allowed and being measured like a piece of furniture for an intricate brace that would allow her to move the uninjured parts of her body while keeping the broken bits immobile. Relatives came to visit at last, an awkward and emotional time made worse because they had to travel so far to reach the City and could not stay long. How could she blame them? Her uncle worked hard with his small construction business, but he wasn’t rich in time or money. Her aunt, the most comforting person out of all of them and the one Miranda most wished would stay, was devoted to him. Her mother . . . she knew from the start that her mother would not come.

“She’s very upset,” Aunt Silvie said quietly and briefly.

An understatement. She had been upset when Miranda had inherited the property and Freeman status of a paternal great-aunt and left to go to the City. She was ever contemptuous of the City, calling it an outpost of a long-dead empire whose denizens clung to outdated forms and traditions out of a misguided desire for identity. Miranda saw her inheritance as a chance for a new adventure; her mother viewed it as an encumbrance and a betrayal of principle. More pragmatically, she believed the place was so dangerous and crime-ridden that it would only be a matter of time before she was sent news of Miranda’s death.

Miranda wondered if her mother had decided to imagine her dead from then on as self-protection. Of course she would not come.

The visit brought one unexpected and mixed blessing: her cousin Fae.

“She’s staying on to help you,” said Uncle Omado with a cheerful voice and anxious eyes, trying so hard to be positive for her. “She’s always wanted to experience a bit of City life.”