"...went to closed session.

"Debate was held on the proposal. Goodman Ehrlich argued in favor of informing the citizenry of Symbiontic resources held in reserve. Goodmen Nahrs and Jansen argued against. Goodman Lyonell moved to put the proposal to a vote; Goodman Stanberg seconded.

Motion failed."

--Excerpt from board meeting notes (restricted), Free City of Hallard, 22 Falling Dying, 1884 CE

----

17 Rising Withering, 1886 CE

Highkirk

As she exited the stairwell and stepped into the open-air bell tower, Oralie half expected to see Rosabella by Dorsin's side. She was surprised that she wasn't with him. Perhaps the other half-dozen snipers with Dorsin had convinced her that it was a place for soldiers, not a diplomat.

Or perhaps she felt shame at the thought of being with Dorsin. It was strange to imagine the Ambassatrix feeling shame at all, but stranger things had happened.

Stranger things: for example, that Oralie had slain the Symbionts of Magi and Tools, sending both skywhale and man plummeting to certain death. Oralie had never killed before. Slaughtering the misshapen aliens above the planet hadn't troubled her at all. Murdering men was different.

That was a duty for warriors like Cornartis, whom she had spoken to only moments before. What would Dorsin say when he learned that an Amrician Adonist from Hallard had somehow secretly bound the Symbiont? Even Senrii didn't know that.

The world went on and schemes went into motion, regardless of whether Gens Nethress took any notice of them.

For now, it was enough that the Hallardites were on the way here. Hopefully they would arrive in time to lend their efforts to the defense of Highkirk.

Dorsin lay on the floor of the tower side by side with an Adonist sniper, a man with a graying beard and a terrifically long rifle. The wind rustled Oralie's hair as the rifles cracked and Chimeras fell onto the dew-speckled grass and the whitewashed wooden buildings of Highkirk.

So many emotions played through Oralie's mind, residue of so many changes that she'd endured these past few weeks. She had enjoyed pride, certainty, discipline; exhaustion, despair, and misery had likewise tortured her like hunting dogs nipping at her heels. When she'd been helpless in the void, she had been willing to give up, to stop fighting, to let her mind die and allow her body to follow. A woman could only endure so much exhaustion.

Even if she'd died in Relay Space, she would have died intact. The sight of Dorsin, grim-faced, eye to his scope, reminded her that now she would have to live broken. That was worse than dying would have been.

"'Scuse me, Miss." The voice from the stairwell behind her was tentative, and Oralie slipped to the side as a a boy no older than fourteen squeezed past her. A dozen canteens sloshed on strings around his neck, and he gave her a shy, appreciative sideways glance. "Thanks, Miss," the boy murmured as he slid the harness of canteens from his neck and dropped them onto a pile of ammo boxes.

It had been eons since Oralie had been called "Miss," and eons since she'd been looked at that way by any man other than Dorsin--

--Dorsin--Dorsin--Dorsin!

Oralie would not let the ache in her belly bend her forward. She drew herself fully upright. The adolescent's shy glances confirmed that at fifty-four years old, she was still desirable, even if she did owe her apparent youth to the treacherous Symbiont. The child probably had no idea that she was four times his age; indeed, he was probably intimidated by her.

Oralie thought of Jorn and Norman. Soon they would begin to notice girls. How would Oralie feel if they spent their lives intimidated by beauty? How would she feel if they never knew love because they feared that rejection hid behind a pretty face?

What might Rosabella do to put this young man at ease and teach him there was nothing to fear?

--Rosabella--Rosabella--Rosabella!

There was nothing to fear but betrayal.

That was Oralie's burden, not this boy's. Oralie nodded gently to him and gave him a small smile, being sure to look him in the eyes. He glanced away quickly. "You're very welcome, young master."

At the sound of her voice, Dorsin started. He half-rolled over, looking back and up at her. The emotions that flashed across his face inverted her own: surprise, guilt, certainty.

"Dorsin." It was hard to keep coldness from her voice. Oralie tried--oh, how she tried--but still an edge of frost crept in. "It's done."

"My--" Dorsin stopped. "Oralie," he tried again. Oralie could see his Adam's apple work as he opened and closed his jaw soundlessly.

He didn't deserve mercy, but Oralie would grant it. "Acerbia is safe."

"You know this because of your...Synapsis?" Dorsin glanced about at the other snipers, but none of them batted an eye at the word. Symbionts and Magi and Synapsis were probably more myth than reality to these Wildlands-dwelling Amricians.

"Yes. I'll tell you what happened when you're less busy." Oralie cast an eye out over the town again. There were few flying Chimeras, but Oralie masses of flesh were gathering in the woods beyond the perimeter of the buildings. "I can see that you're needed, and I ought not to distract you."

"You're right," Dorsin said, turning back to his rifle. "About the need for me," he added. "They seem to have withdrawn their airborne units, but..."

Units. This was military speech, not appropriate for Chimeras. "They are organized?"

Dorsin nodded, sighted in, and lanced a bullet into the distant treeline. "It's true across Tellus, but the Chimeras assaulting Highkirk didn't use military tactics at first. I assumed it was because we're a target of opportunity, not a military objective. They've been typical beasts until now."

"Until I woke up and became their objective," Oralie said.

"What?"

Oralie descended into Relay-Space and forced herself into the green-star mind of the dying Chimera in the treeline, shouldering past the bestial pain distracting the monster and finding the telltale signs of silver dust across its darkening consciousness. She surfaced and said, "They're here for me. They understand the threat that I pose."

"Who does? The Chimeras?"

"The Master-Minds."

Dorsin exhaled slowly, and Oralie wasn't sure whether it was because of confusion or because he was prepping another shot. He squeezed the trigger, then said, "We need to have that talk sooner rather than later."

"Yes, we do." And Oralie dreaded it. "I've put events in motion. Within a day, the threat should subside and the Chimeras should revert to bestial behavior."

"My wife," Dorsin breathed. "Such an incred..." He trailed off, leaving behind only the auditory spoor of guilt.

Oralie refused to address his hesitation. If Dorsin loathed himself, he deserved to. "I am dropping a heavenwhale on La Table d'Or."

That did make the other snipers in the tower turn and stare. Dorsin appeared as though he'd swallowed a dung beetle.

"A heavenwhale?" he asked weakly.

"Don't worry. I've contacted my family." It hadn't been easy--she'd had to subvert the Synapsis mechanisms of the Archon Tool in Plataea, the barony's city, then convince the purple-blooded technician monitoring the transmissions that it was a real message, then monitor Relay-Space for a return message indicating that her family had understood the order and would comply. "They will direct the evacuation of the blast zone, but time will be tight. They have twelve hours." Oralie turned her attention again to the treeline. "The shots are louder."

"Yes," Dorsin said, clearly glad to have something else to focus on. "The traps and defenses outside town are expended. I'd be shocked if a single turret is still running. Now it's down to the marksmen to hold out. Let's hope we can manage for twelve hours. We only have so much ammunition."

"You have swords as well." Oralie hadn't meant the remark to be callous, though Dorsin looked stricken. It wouldn't do to have him think she was rooting for him to fall under tooth and claw; she was heartbroken, but she didn't hate him, and in any case her survival depended on him. "And you know how to use them," she amended.

He pressed his lips together but appeared mollified.

"And besides, you have me," Oralie said.

"I..." Dorsin faltered.

He didn't have her in that way. Not now, not today. "Inside each Chimera is a tiny shred of the Symbiont with a tiny Synaptic receiver," she clarified. "It's how they're coordinating. It makes them vulnerable."

"How?"

"Because now Synapsis belongs to me."

As Dorsin watched in confusion and no little fear, Oralie sat down on the stack of boxes, closed her eyes, sank into Relay-Space, and flung herself into the mind of the nearest Chimera.