"That's a quick way to tell 'em," said the red-head. "The teat is smooth." He rebuttoned the uniform, then jabbed again at the girl's ribs. She straightened, patted her hair.
"No doubt a gentleman like you is used to better," she said carelessly. She went away.
"I'm Awalawon Dhuva," the red-head said.
"My name's Brett Hale." Brett took a bite of the sandwich.
"Those clothes," Dhuva said. "And you have a strange way of talking. What county are you from?"
"Jefferson."
"Never heard of it. I'm from Wavly. What brought you here?"
"I was on a train. The tracks came to an end out in the middle of nowhere. I walked ... and here I am. What is this place?"
"Don't know." Dhuva shook his head. "I knew they were lying about the Fire River, though. Never did believe all that stuff. Religious hokum, to keep the masses quiet. Don't know what to believe now. Take the roof. They say a hundred kharfads up; but how do we know? Maybe it's a thousand—or only ten. By Grat, I'd like to go up in a balloon, see for myself."
"What are you talking about?" Brett said. "Go where in a balloon? See what?"