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Greta.”
    He’s not giving up on what happened at the shop, and I don’t blame him. Her frantic accusations have been bouncing around in my head since we left there. They didn’t mean anything to me, but it’s possible they’ll mean something to Dante. There was a time when I would have guarded the hourglass techprint my father placed on me the night the Guild came to retrieve me because I thought it was a secret code between him and me. A simple reminder to me of who I was. But Greta’s reaction to it rattled me even more than the girl’s recognition of it on the night we arrived here. Do I know who I am? My parents’ actions that night had raised more and more questions in my time at the Coventry. How much had they known? Where were we going? I’d learned nothing is as it seems in Arras. Not even a simple techprint, it turns out.
    So I hold out my wrist and show it to Dante. He takes a step forward to examine my offering and shock flits across his face, quickly replaced by a mask of calm. If I hadn’t been watching him, I would have missed it entirely.
    “That explains it,” he says, his voice so low it sends goose bumps popping across my flesh.
    “It means something to you then?” Jost asks.
    “You don’t know what this is?” Dante asks.
    “No,” I admit. Part of me wants to tell him the whole story. That we’re refugees from Arras, about my parents and the tunnels under our house, that we’re running from the Guild. But I keep quiet, waiting to see how he responds, wondering exactly what I’ve revealed to him about myself.
    “It’s the sign of Kairos,” he tells us. “It seems I haven’t been very polite. Welcome to Earth.”

FIVE
    SOMEONE HAS LAID OUT A FEAST ON a polished black table. The setting is utilitarian. No time wasted on decorations or fancy utensils, but the food is another story. The first course is a salty soup with chunks of white fish and leeks simmered slowly so they melt on my tongue. The soup scorches my throat, and I savor how it floods and stings my mouth, coming to rest hot in my belly. Next a crisp salad smothered in heavy dressing and bits of buttery toast. And then meat. I never knew how much I could miss meat until it sits in front of me. My portion is very small. The large cuts are given to the men, so I cut mine up into tiny bites, watching the red juice seep from my incisions and chewing each bite for minutes.
    This is what Dante calls scrounging something up.
    There was a time when I would have pushed my plate away, too anxious to eat, but even though I need answers as to what’s happening around me, I’m not passing up a meal after a week with so little food.
    “Tell me more about Sunrunning,” I say. “I think I’m interested in joining up.”
    “You’re an easy sale,” Dante says.
    “The way to my heart is through my stomach,” I admit.
    Jost eats slowly beside me, not saying much. He looks even more thoughtful now that our secret is out and Dante knows we’re refugees, but for me, it feels as though a boulder has been lifted from my chest. Dante hasn’t said anything more about the techprint, although I’m sure we’ll get back to it. It’s probably hard to discuss something serious with someone who’s stuffing her face.
    “One of the perks of the job is food, obviously. We take a quota of goods from the various hydroponic farms in the area and we trade meat and fish with the hunters. There are a few farms on the outskirts of the Interface, but it’s a rough business keeping livestock there. Meat’s fallen from favor in most of the Icebox since it’s so hard to get. Although there’s still some canned meat about,” he says.
    “Lucky for us,” Jost says, but his face is dark.
    “It’s a dangerous job. Most of the area outside of the Icebox is uninhabitable.”
    “Uninhabitable?” I ask.
    “From the mining operations and the bombings during the war.”
    Loricel had told me another story about Earth. She had assumed the people left on