There was a low-level yellowish haze everywhere, a dust haze like the film on an animal’s teeth, but far up above the dust, it was dry and clearer. Clear enough so that somewhere at the stratosphere, Jane could see a little cirrus. More than a little cirrus, when she got used to looking for it. A very strange, spiderwebby cirrus. Long, thin, filaments of feathery cloud that stretched far across the sky, not in parallel waves either, as might be expected from cirrus, but crossing at odd angles. A broken grid of high, razor-thin ice cloud, like a dust-filthy mirror cracking into hexagons.