Dayo, who still might be somewhere on Camp Ghala, lost between the bureaucratic cracks. But even if she wasn’t . . . the clanners of the Thoroughfare laughed and hugged and bartered in her mind’s eye again, the smell of jinma, the shouts of Hypatian slang. Maybe this was the one small way Asala’s planet could live on, light-years away, in another solar system, far from the people who had left them to die.
