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glimmered back
at her.
    "One Devonshire tea, special Blue serving," the
girl said, putting down a tray holding a half-dozen scones, whipped cream, and
a jar of plum jam. She picked up the
teapot and left again, and by the time she was back, lugging a chair while
balancing a tray, Madeleine had inhaled four still-warm scones and was
spreading jam on the fifth.
    "Sorry." Madeleine had recovered enough to put down the jam and make room for a
larger teapot and accompanying cups and milk. "Thanks."
    "No problem – it keeps hitting me like that. You've got to stay ahead of it." She surveyed Madeleine frankly, gaze
lingering on her face and hands, and Madeleine, uncomfortable with the extent
of her blueness, was glad she'd worn a long-sleeved shirt knotted over the
dress. "I'm Noi."
    "Madeleine."
    They drank tea in silence. Madeleine, who constantly received report cards declaring "does not
work well with others" and "does not participate in group
activities", searched for the right thing to say. With a glance toward the restaurant, Nikosia , she
tried: "Did you stay in there the entire time?"
    "No." Noi's voice dropped. "Once the stain started showing, everybody went home. I...there's no-one at my home now, so I came
back to check on Niko ."
    Madeleine awkwardly took another bite of scone, giving the
girl time to take a few deep breaths. " Niko ?"
    "My boss. I knew
he lived alone, that no-one would be around to check on him." Her voice wavered again, then firmed, and a
ghost of a smile emerged. "I've
only been here a few months – first year of my apprenticeship – and he was a
little tin-pot dictator who had me on prep and cleaning for forever. But he took me on, so I owed him for that,
and, well. He was in his
apartment."
    Madeleine didn't need to ask for details: television had fed
her more than enough statistics. In the
areas of heaviest dust exposure the first deaths had been recorded within
twenty-four hours of the darkening of wrists, though for most the crisis point
was after the two to three day point. Green stains were slower to regain strength, but so far had a much
higher survival rate. Even among Greens
it still took the very young, the sick and weak, the elderly – and a great many
others who were none of these. Surviving
Blues were rare. Noi had stayed at her
home till everyone there died, and then returned to find this Niko dead as well. Making scones and drinking tea in the sun was a better response than
Madeleine would likely have managed.
    "My parents haven't shown any signs yet," she said,
glad and guilty to be able to say that. "They live at Leumeah, and had a little time to prepare."
    "That's southwest, right? Are you going to head out there?"
    "And risk letting in the dust – or infecting them if
this is infectious?" Madeleine shook her head. "I'm borrowing my cousin's apartment. I'll stick there until–" She stopped, unsure what limit there was to
'until'. Tyler had sent her a text two
days ago, letting her know he was still at Sydney Airport, no longer on the
plane. Then, nothing.
    "Want to go look at it?"
    Noi was gazing up at the Spire, and Madeleine suddenly
regretted not bringing her sketchpad, and then was overwhelmingly glad for that
reaction. Since she'd woken she'd spent
hours staring at Tyler's portrait, but had inexplicably lacked any urge to
complete it. She'd thought she'd lost
something, but with Noi her usual drive to capture people around her had
revived.
    But Madeleine also wanted to see the Spire again up close, to
compare skin to stone, so she finished off the last of the scones, and helped
Noi put her table away and lock up. Noi
had obviously been tidying earlier – Nikosia was the only restaurant where the outside tables had
been cleared of dusted food. Then they
started up the curving multi-flight stair to The Domain.
    Noi stopped abruptly, and Madeleine barely avoided running
into her. Then she saw the reason: an ungainly
tumble of school uniform and blue-patched limbs sprawled