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heart twisting—but as I moved the proctor straightened with the barest ticking of joints. I froze. Its iris clicked in and out. What did it expect? Was I meant to leave him? Or to help him? I held rabbit-still with one hand on Elián’s shuddering shoulder. The proctor’s head swiveled like a turret, taking in everyone.
    Thandi and Grego were closest to Elián and me, but they were paralyzed. Thandi looked as if she’d been turned to wood. Grego’s false eyes were completely black. The proctor’s optical beam swept over them, and still they didn’t move.
    The proctor locked on to Da-Xia. And she, bless her, pressed her palms together and bowed to it. Then she came forward. She crouched on the other side of Elián. We took a shoulder each, and helped him sit, and then stand. They had indeed cut his hair, shaved it back nearly to the scalp. This close, I could see it prickle, see the convulsive tick in his throat as he swallowed, swallowed.
    Elián hung between Da-Xia and me, wobbling. It was unsettling to be so close to a stranger. I could smell him, feel the heat off him. I could see all the secret nicks and scars of his scalp.
    Across the top of Elián’s bent head, my gaze met Xie’s. What if he couldn’t work? Couldn’t stand? What should we do?
    But even as I wondered, I felt him find his feet. “Hello, Greta,” he rasped, still sagging. “I’m still having some . . .” His voice gave way, came back, and he twitched a smile. “Some trouble with what’s appropriate.”
    â€œI can see that.” I put every ounce of Precepture dignity into my voice. A smile? Did he not understand what he had done? His behavior would cost us all. “What’s appropriate now is for you to introduce yourself. Properly.”
    He lifted his head and looked at me, big-eyed. He was still clinging to me, and his look made me feel as though I’d hit a puppy. I suppose from his point of view I’d changed sides. He would not understand why. I knew all the complications, knew I was doing right. And yet his bewildered, betrayed expression still made me look away, which gave me a close-up view of his forearm. His muscles twitched. His skin was goose-bumped and shivery.
    And he still hadn’t answered. Xie tried to prompt him. “I’m Li Da-Xia. From Yunnan, the Mountain Glacials.”
    â€œDa-Xia,” he echoed.
    â€œYou may call me Xie,” she said, which was generous of her.
    â€œ Z ? Like the letter?”
    â€œIt’s zed in this kingdom,” said Grego, looking sideways at me. “They are touchy about it.” He told the joke carefully, as if he were defusing a bomb.
    And Elián missed it. He looked blankly from Grego to Xie, as if the proctor had shocked thirty IQ points off him. Maybe he was just a bit slow. “Xie is Z ; got it. Xie and Atta and Gregori and Thandi and Greta and Han.” He recited it as a list, by rote. He turned to the proctor, and added, “Is that right?” As if he expected the thing to answer him.
    â€œThat’s right,” I said. “And you’re Elián.”
    As if his own name had been his master password, he shook his head and stood up straight. His face reset, and those IQ points came back all at once. He looked cheerfully jaunty and willingly can-do and adorably dorky and I was absolutely sure that at least two of those were put on.
    I looked to Xie and she answered me with two arched eyebrows: She didn’t know what to make of him either. None of us did.
    Elián stood grinning in the middle of our stares. “So, hi,” he said. He reached for my dropped pitchfork, only to have Atta put his foot on it. None of us wanted this stranger to have a weapon.
    Elián pretended not to notice. “Yeah. I’m Elián Palnik, from the Cumberland Alliance. Y’all want to show me how to dig potatoes?”
    No one answered. We looked at him