Caius nodded. Received it the way it was given — as the whole truth of the thing, without editorializing.
Then Lera, who had been watching this exchange with the expression of someone trying very hard not to look relieved, said: "Are we going inside or are we conducting all of this in the yard."
Ziko appeared from the diner doorway. "We've been conducting most things in the yard recently."
"It's cold," Lera said.
"It's been cold all week," Ziko said pleasantly. "We've developed a tolerance."
Lera looked at me.
I looked at Lera.
For a moment — our two faces, the same basic architecture arranged differently, the same parents, the same childhood with its careful unevenness — something sat between us that was simpler than everything else this story had put between us. Just: sister. Just
