Chapter Five
Kriss opened his eyes and blinked at the bright rectangle of sunlight on the white plaster wall. Mella will be calling me for breakfast soon, he thought sleepily, then frowned. The sunlight had never before struck his bedroom wall in quite that place or in quite that shape . . .
An instant later, all the memories of fires, journeys, storms, and spaceships came rushing back, and he closed his eyes for a moment, wishing it had all been a bad dream—and then suddenly felt guilty, because that wasn’t quite true. He didn’t wish it had all been a dream. Oh, he wished Mella were still alive; but having a job in Cascata, almost within sight of the spaceport, and working in an inn that catered to offworlders—he couldn’t wish that was a dream. But not wishing it made him feel disloyal
