One moment Dama is where she expects to be, and the next moment she is where she least expects to be - an unheard-of street under an astronomically bizarre sky, showing close, green-blue moons and two orange suns, one much closer than the other, glowing through the clouds. It is raining hard; people are bustling past her under various contrivances to keep the rain off. Nobody looks twice at her.
"How would I find out if it is?"
"I think maybe I want to do that."
"Is that like a ship?"
"That sounds fun."
"If it's something I can learn, I'll learn it."
It's nice to have something to work towards.
Eventually she has a modest conversational grasp of the language. The writing is preposterously difficult, not remotely phonetic; she can learn characters for individual words if she wants to, but doing it enough to read a book will probably take years. Suirban helps her apply for jobs on sails. There are many options at the sailtowers! Where does she want to go?
Somewhere far. She likes this round fine, but she wants to cast a wide net.
That sounds perfect.
"It's nice to meet you!"
"If you don't work enough to earn your food we'll throw you into space," he tells her gruffly. "You call me Boss Haror, if I'm not around you listen to Porlan over there. We're packing and loading supplies for the trip now, follow me." He shows her how to get food and water and salt and soap and spare parts and so on boxed and padded and aboard the sail with the cargo elevator, which they have to haul up via rope.
She follows what he's showing her.
When she gets a chance she asks Porlan if they'll really throw her into space.
"Oh, good. Thanks."
"I think I can handle that."