"Am I acting like an Old World girl? Crass and direct?"

"No."

"Well, I won't change over night."

"Nobody asked you to."

"Well that's good. I changed worlds, but I didn't change myself."

"Right."

"So why don't you like him?"

Reed sighed. "Because I'm his younger brother. Because he is the perfect farmer, and I'm not."

"Is that why you came to get me? You're a sloppy farmer. You can take the better part of the day off even in the middle of the last harvest, even if it isn't your wife you're going to meet."

Reed nodded. "Yes. That's right."

"Does this make you less of a man?"

"No."

"Just making sure I understand Nocturne's values."

She turned and looked out at the coastline, dark lines in the failing light. They were approaching the Finger Bay. The sky hung heavy with rain. The sun could not have dipped below the horizon already, but the thickening clouds had obscured all trace of its orb.

He offered her a piece of apple root. Her face cracked a smile again. She apologized, saying she hadn't eaten since, oh, since before she boarded the flyer, some six hours ago. She grimaced at the sweet and sour taste, but she ate all he gave her.

"The air smells funny here," she said.

"I've heard the air on the Old World smells like sewage."

"That's not true. Most of it, most of the really dangerous residue, you don't smell at all. But there isn't any life to it. It's like..." she looked back at him and her face fell. "You wouldn't have the least idea what I'm talking about. Any comparison I could think of... you have never heard of."

She turned away again, and trailed one hand overboard.

"Don't," Reed said softly. "You don't want to dangle your hand in the water. When the tide's coming in there are darts in the shallows."

She snatched her hand back. "So what would Hames have done if you had been a more perfect farmer and not wanted to lose harvest time coming to get me? Let me wander aimlessly until I tried to swim for it and got my head bit off by a dart? Whatever that is."

"One of our version of fish. They're not that bad. They're no bigger than your little finger. But they hurt."

"Quit doing that."

"What?"

"Dodging my questions. Is that a Nocturne thing? I told you, I'm a crass and direct Old World girl, I'm used to getting things laid out straight for me. I live here now, I need to know these things."

"Yes, of course," Reed said. "You're right. It's not a Nocturne thing. It's just me."

"Well, answer my question, then. What would he have done?"

"There's a ferry that runs up the bay in about two hours."

"But you volunteered to come get me instead, and he thought this was a good idea?"

"No. I..."

She struck her trunk with her fist. "Say it!"

Reed started. Her blank composure had only been a veil. She was tense to the point of snapping. "I told him he was a jerk, and he said that if I thought it was so important, I could go pick you up myself. So I did."

She rolled her eyes. "How old are you, Reed?"

"I turn four in Fisher--the start of Famine. Why?"

Her brows drew together, then she hung her head in her hands. "So that's, what, twenty-four of my years? Twenty-three? I don't know. It's too much to take, all at once."

"Do you like Hames?" Reed finally dared.

"What's to like? I don't see him anywhere."

"Well, I assume you sent messages."

"You believe in love, don't you, Reed?"

"You don't?"

"Love is a freedom. Maybe you can afford it, here on Nocturne. I had a choice. I could have fallen in love on the Old World, and died, or I could come here, and live. That was more than I wanted to pay for love."

Reed looked away from her eyes. She was what she called herself, an Old World girl, crass and direct.

"You may find you get along with Hames well," he said. "He doesn't believe in love either."

When he glanced back, her face had fallen again, and he thought, strangely, that he might have hurt her.

"But he is, really, a very kind man," Reed added. "And you must like him some. There must have been other options, after all. And some folks do just come. Mostly men, or families, but some women come and join squatters' collectives on the islands. You chose to be a picture bride. And you chose Hames. There must have..."

He faded out as he saw her glaring at him.

"Yes. Some folks do just come," she said. "What is it you call those people?"

"I've never said that," he said slowly.

"Maybe you haven't. But other folks say it. What is the name for people who come here with no money or kin?"

Reed shook his head.

"I'll help you. They're only good for one thing. Rather than send people, the Old World might as well send..."

"Fertilizer."