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Probably means “You die now” in some ancient language, Darica thought. On a whim, she repeated, “Y-yarentama,” hoping she hadn’t just doomed herself.

After a pulse-stopping pause, the woman lowered the gun. “Right. You been in many of these places?” She looked around to indicate the apartments. Now that she was speaking normal words, she had a Marchenn accent so pronounced it was almost comical. How did she end up in the city?

“A couple,” Darica answered truthfully. A while ago.

“Any of them have ‘porter grates?”

“No,” she said, wondering what in the world an armed burglar would want with a ‘porter grate. To make a getaway, maybe, if any of the ones not blown up in the transportation centers had been powered and working. But that wasn’t an option now.

“Oh good. I didn’t want to have to blow this place up, it’s too pretty.” She smiled and stowed the gun in a holster at her hip, directing a glance at Darica’s bag. “You been finding pretty things too?”

You don’t know the half of it. “Some,” she said, and when her voice didn’t seem to want to give out, she decided to continue. “I don’t know what you’re after, but I could probably find it for you.”

“Huh. Just here, or in the area?” The woman was coming closer, but strangely, Darica didn’t feel scared.

“I know the area okay,” she said. “What do you need?”

“Right now? Somebody who knows the area okay. You think you can keep up with us?”

Us. There were more of these people; they might be rioters. She had never expected to be invited! Calm. “Sure,” she said.

The stranger grinned. “Flyin’. I’m Irina. You got a name?”

“Darica,” she said, without thinking to dissemble.

“Well, Darica, let’s go find the gang,” said Irina, and walked out through the windowframe. After a last look, Darica followed.