They whirled together, saw a dark head poke itself out from behind one end of the spaceship, large burnoose very white over the brown skin. It was a boy of perhaps fourteen. He was trembling, his lips puckered. He sobbed. "Oh, Miss Hadrien...."
Laniq went to him, patted his shoulder. "Mahmud, there now. It must have been awful, I know. There, Mahmud."
With someone to comfort him, Mahmud cried all the more. He wailed loudly, letting the tears gush down his cheeks, abandoning his body to wracking sobs.
Tedor who spoke Persian and understood it, realized the boy would go right on crying and Laniq comforting him and so not finding time to cry herself. And so he said, "Mahmud, tell me what happened. Tell me where Miss Hadrien's people are."
Mahmud sniffled, blinked his eyes, plucked a handful of gummy dates from the folds of his burnoose. He munched, sniffled again. "Dead," he sobbed. "They are all dead, almost."
Laniq sobbed too, clutching little Mahmud's shoulder more firmly. "Dead?" she cried. "Dead? Where?"
"Maybe not all, Miss Hadrien. Those that could, fled—taking the dead with them. It happened not long ago when three round craft came down from the sky and burned everything. They struck without warning. My people fled."
"You are very brave, Mahmud," Laniq declared. "What—happened to my father?"
"The Hadrien Sir was badly hurt, Miss. Of that much I am sure. They carried him with much moaning and bleeding into their craft, your people did, and went to the West. 'Laniq' he kept mumbling. He looked at me while they carried him and said 'Laniq! you tell Laniq we went to Nevada. She'll know where. Tell Laniq we went to Nevada, but tell no one else.' That is what he said and I, Mahmud, remember every word."
"Thank you, Mahmud. And what about you?"