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food into another. She left the hard things where they were, and left the tent. The pale man motioned for them to sit down, and then someone brought them more rice, with stringy meat and tasteless vegetables in it, and more of the fruit drink they had been given after being stuck with the needles.
    When they were done eating, the pale man turned down the lanterns so that the room was only very dimly lit, and pantomimed sleeping. And indeed, Zamatryna found suddenly that she was wearier than she had ever been. Still wearing the ridiculous clothing they had been given, they all crawled into their narrow cots, and Timbor murmured evening benedictions to bless them all. But Zamatryna, though she was so tired, could not sleep. She felt for Mim-Bim in her pocket, and let the beetle crawl out to explore the world under the rough sheet and scratchy blanket. In the dimness, she could see the pale man sitting by the door. When he saw her looking at him, he smiled and gave her a little wave, and pantomimed sleeping again. She turned her back on him, flipping over to face the other way, and pulled the covers over her head.

    There was Mim-Bim, shining like a little lantern. Pretty thing! It wouldn’t live much longer, but Zamatryna could at least try to save it from the boots of the pale people.
    As she watched, the beetle began walking in an odd pattern: up a few inches, a diagonal down, up a few inches, a diagonal back to where it had started. Zamatryna stared. She had never seen a beetle do that before. But Mim-Bim repeated the pattern, over and over. X. The beetle was tracing an X.
    X for silence. “I won’t tell the pale people about you,” Zamatryna whispered, nearly soundlessly lest anyone hear. “I won’t let them crush you.”
    Still Mim-Bim continued the dance. X. Up, down and across, up, down and across. X. Did that mean that Zamatryna couldn’t tell anyone about the beetle, that she had to keep it completely secret? X. But why? And how had the insect learned human gestures? X. Had going through the door into exile changed it that much? But Zamatryna herself didn’t feel so very different.
    X. She fell asleep watching the beetle, watching and wondering. When she woke up, after no dreams she could remember, her head was above the covers and her body ached from the strange bed. She blinked, remembered where she was, remembered everything that had happened, and ducked under the covers again. Here was Mim-Bim, tracing the same pattern. Zamatryna picked the beetle up and put it back in her pocket. Since it knew gestures now, she hoped it would have the sense to stay hidden.
    The pale man from the night before no longer sat at the door; someone else was there, a man equally pale but with brown hair and darker eyes, who smiled at them. Someone brought them breakfast, a bitter hot drink and more of the orange juice, and dry granules to soak in milk. Someone else brought their clothing and the carpets back. “Oh, thank goodness,” Harani said, and hurried over to the neat piles. Aliniana followed with more energy than she’d yet shown here.
    â€œThis soap smells terrible,” Aliniana grumbled, holding one of Jamfret’s tunics to her nose. “And the color’s faded! Did they ruin everything?”
    â€œNever mind. At least we can get out of these ridiculous garments and back into our own.”
    â€œSome of it,” Aliniana said grimly. “This is too small for Jamfret now! They shrunk it! And where’s our food, and the seeds? Did they bring that pile back too?”
    The food and seeds were gone, and only some of the clothing they had so carefully chosen to bring with them was still wearable. Some of it was faded, some shrunk. Some had developed holes where none had been before.
The prayer carpets had kept their colors, for they were costly things, but Poliniana’s beautiful slippers were oddly bent, missing some of their jewels and beads. Zamatryna’s