“And remember,” her dad had said as they settled into the back seat of the solar craft, “you only need to say hello to Father Gheraeld. Just shake his hand and say hello.”
“Okay, Dad,” Ayn replied, thinking her dad must be even more nervous than she’d realized. What a weird and random thing to tell her. As if she didn’t know how to act. She was fifteen. It’s not like she didn’t know anything.
They arrived in the city an hour later, and were greeted by an impeccably dressed woman, whose iron-gray hair did not match her line-free face. “Professor Hyarzden, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, holding out her free hand as her dad stepped from the solar craft. In her other arm she held a tablet, tucking it close to her chest.