Orson returned the pay phone’s handset to its hook. “Alright, now we just need to kill the next few hours until we can drive over.”

Kol leaned against the booth wall, eyes half-closed. “Drive? Isn’t flying the entire point of that ridiculous camper of yours?”

“Don’t call the Aesir names.” Orson stretched around Kol and shoved the booth door ajar. “That’s pushing your luck. We’re less than a hundred miles from your old friends in the Liberty Corps, and I deliberately ignored a Pacific Alliance squadron. So no flying. Now come on.” He clapped Kol on the shoulder. “I’ve had weirder people than you nap on my couch, but I’m not dragging you back to the ridiculous camper.” Kol nodded and stood up straight.

Orson followed him out of the booth. He shut the door and locked it again. His hand brushed through the ivy. He felt the leaves and followed them to the place where they seemed to creep inside the broken door.

But Orson could see the trick of it. He saw its truth, that the door was not broken. It fit snug and the ivy stretched right to the top without breaking through. The worn, exposed hinges and the gap along the top were false. The illusion carried no depth, like a vintage movie backlot, the façade of a building with no rooms behind it. The phone booth was solid.

“Look.” Kol nudged his shoulder.

Orson turned and followed the line of Kol’s sight toward the far group of trees. Dark and twisted trunks wound together, like a living fence.

There was motion there. Faint silhouettes moved.

“Is this another illusion?” Kol asked. “Another trick?”

Orson pulled his goggles to his eyes, and he tapped his left hand’s fingers against his palm. He looked for the trigger that wasn’t there. The blaster and its whole length of framework were gone, also lost to Helmont.

But Orson saw heat. There were three shapes, all bipedal. One looked faint and oddly slender, the limbs long and uncanny, but all meant life.

“I hear them too,” Kol whispered. “I sense them.” A blue shield projection appeared at his left hand. “I might recognize them.”

“Well, they’re sure to recognize this.” Orson reached up toward his sword’s hilt.

“No need for that, Gregory!” Someone shouted from the far line of trees. “And you can put your strider eyes away too.”

Doryssa Melanthymos stepped from the trees. Her long hair caught in dangling moss and splayed out all behind her. Aneirin followed after her, and he ducked beneath a gnarled tree trunk. Only their friend, the pale enigma woman passed easily into the clearing. She slipped between branches like water over rock.

“We left the skimmer before they went on to some secret Alliance border base.” Melanthymos led the group from the trees. “I’ve had more than enough government hospitality in my life.”

“Did Allbrook go with the skimmer?” Orson asked. “He got out alright?”

“Young Kit is well.” Aneirin massaged his right hand with his left. He stretched out his fingers and grimaced. “He went to the Alliance hidden fortress.”

Melanthymos took Aneirin’s right hand gently between her fingers. “We’ll get that looked at as soon as we can.” He rested his left hand across the backs of her fingers.

“And your hands,” he replied.

“They’ll get used to stone work again,” she said.

The young enigma began to whisper in her own language. She shot a furtive glance to Orson and then to the phone booth. Aneirin replied, but she raised her voice and talked over him.

“This place is real?” Aneirin asked. “It is no trap.”

“It connects to the Wayfarer Network,” Orson said. “If that’s what you mean.”

“The Hierarchia had places like this set as traps,” Melanthymos said. “For travelers who were not protected by the registered cultures.”

“This is how they captured me,” Aneirin said. “I make a call, and the noise begins. Then I am surrounded. Hierarchia. I have lost enough years.”

“Damn, I’m sorry,” Orson said. “Well, this is the real deal. I’m guessing the hidden signs led you here?” Aneirin nodded. “I can get you in to the phone. There’s an inn not far from here that will let you stay for free, at least for a while. I know the current proprietor.”

“Your love?” Aneirin asked. “She protects you too.”

“We saw the tail end of her message.” Melanthymos smirked. “She’s cute. Couldn’t see much of her with the cloak and the armor, but I like her braids. I recognized the pattern for ‘burn you alive’. Sounds like your kind of woman.”

“Sirona keeps the protections now, yeah,” Orson said. “Her illusion should’ve told you this place was real. If somebody used her threat as a trap, she’d show them a taste of the real thing. The Inn at the Evergreen Forest is only a six or seven hour drive from here, and there used to be transportation that you could schedule. It’s been a long time since I’ve been this way, though.”

“You are estranged?” Aneirin asked. “She lets you… You keep her fire.” The enigma woman whispered again in her own tongue, but Aneirin only nodded in response.

“The lantern was a gift,” Orson said. “And we’re, you know… We still get along just fine. But no, we’re not together. Anyway, should I get you inside—”

“Not good,” Aneirin said. He pointed his left hand toward Orson’s side where the lantern still hung from the sword’s sheath. “That is a gift from love.”

“Sometimes it just doesn’t work out.” Orson fought and failed to keep the frustration from his voice. “Now, do you want me to let you inside?”

“Please,” Melanthymos said. She waved to the enigma. “Syly, we’ll find a way to call your family. Don’t worry, dear.” Aneirin also spoke in the lyrical tongue. Syly fell silent.

“Kol,” Orson said. “You can start back toward the Aesir.” The younger man had both eyes closed again, and the way he swayed on his feet did not look like Shaping. “Jaleel will let you in, okay?”

“Thank you.” Kol gave a quick nod toward the new arrivals. Then he turned back toward the ship.

“If you talk to the operator.” Orson unlocked the phone booth again. “They still do it the same way. Just tell her that you fall outside of the standard protections, and you should be set.”

“I have gold,” Aneirin said. “We will stay close. We do not want a six hours drive. We are tired.” He reached to his satchel and shook it. It jingled.

“I don’t know what money the nearby businesses take.” Orson opened the booth door again. “I won’t be much help for you there, but there is a place not far from here, the Lodge at the Eldest Oak. The operator can set you up with them too. That’s where we’re staying. If you stay there too, you can come the rest of the way with us.”

Melanthymos stepped inside. Aneirin hesitated on the threshold. He held his hand to the doorframe. At his touch, a circle of light began to glow above the ‘Telephone’ sign. It was a symbol, a crest in the shape of a tree, encircled inside a crescent moon.

Aneirin smiled. He pulled his hand away and the light faded. Then he shoved his left hand into his satchel almost up to his elbow. He stepped up into the phone booth.

Syly stayed outside. She shivered and tucked both hands under her armpits. She turned away from Orson and looked around the clearing.

“I have a connection coin,” Orson said. “You’ll need one of those too.”

“I have a coin.” Aneirin continued to rummage through his satchel. “It was not taken. It is somewhere…”

“ORSON!” Jaleel shouted.

Orson looked up at the sound and found Jaleel standing at the Aesir’s open doorway, hands cupped around his mouth.

“Messages!” Jaleel shouted. “Typewriter messages from everybody!”

“I’ll be right there!” Orson looked back into the phone booth. Aneirin and Melanthymos stood close with the earpiece held between them, already connected. Orson ran back across the grass toward his ship.

“What happened now?” Orson jumped aboard.

“I don’t know yet!” Jaleel said. “But I went in my bunk and papers were all over the place. I think Eloise sent like fifteen messages. Two of them are just your name.”

“She was the same way when I had a phone she could text.” Orson shook his head. “Let’s hear them, I guess.”

Both Kol and Max sat on the couch, neither more than half-awake. Dr. Stan sat at the computer station, floppies stacked on the floor beside her.

He saw no sign of Enoa.

Jaleel pulled a small group of papers from the table and began to read.

“‘Orson, you idiot!’” Jaleel read. “This one is Eloise, by the way.”

“I figured,” Orson said. “Go on.”

“‘What are you doing trying to rob the Pinnacle with just information you bought? I might have something you can use. I have broken bones, Orson. I didn’t have my eyes gouged out. I can read. I could’ve helped you get information.’”

Jaleel switched pages.

“‘If you die there, I’ll have a séance just to yell at you. Do you know that? I’ll get ahold of that friend of Haydn’s, the college paranormal guy. I’ll get him to pull you back, so I can call you names.’”

“‘I’m going to keep doing this, Orson. I’m going to keep it up until you answer me!’”

“‘Now I’m hearing about you freeing monsters. If you get melted, some other idiot will find my messages all over your floor.’”

“Is there anything else, uh, substantial in any of that?” Orson asked. “Because if not, maybe we’ll skip ahead.”

“I don’t think so.” Jaleel shifted through more pieces of paper. “These are the ‘Orson, call me back. Orson, Orson, Orson’ messages.”

“It’ll be a restless day for poor Carlos too.” Dr. Stan laughed. “Eloise must feel better, at the very least. You’ll have to write back to her first.”

“I will,” Orson said. “Hey, Dr. Stan, while you’re over there, do you mind having Ruby run a diagnostic on our sensors? I don’t know how much you could hear in here, but some of the escapees from the Pinnacle also turned up to make reservations for lodging, and I didn’t get any warning. It might be weird sorcery crap, but I want to be sure nothing got cooked in the battle and nothing stowed away.”

“Couldn’t the diagnostic show where we are?” Jaleel asked. “Like, maybe we should just have a lookout and do this once we’re safe and get where we’re going.”

“We should be fine, Jaleel,” Dr. Stan said. “As long as it’s all internal. I can start that now, Orson. I can watch it on the monitor, but once you’re caught up with your correspondence, we have a lot to look over.”

“I’m sure.” Orson nodded to Jaleel. “But thanks!”

Jaleel read again, slower this time. “This one’s from, uh, from Franklin. He says, ‘Right on, Kid! We’ve been hearing some crazy shit coming from your neck of the woods. Pops called me special just to get me to write to you. But what he doesn’t know is my friend, Hayley, is one of those Dagger pilots the Alliance has watching the Pinnacle. She says she’s got video of you cutting a spaceship in half. Too bad the old man isn’t around to see you do this stuff. Ophion, I mean. He’d be all fortune cookie about it, but he’d be ultra proud. Anyway, get back to me when you can, and get back to Pops too so he can stop worrying. Later.”

“I will commence sensor diagnostic,” Ruby spoke softly from the ceiling speaker. Jaleel shot a glance toward the sound before he flipped to the final page.

“I think this one is from fire girlfriend,” Jaleel said. “She says Teddy told her about the plan! Can you believe that? That’s pretty not cool, right?”

Orson pulled the paper away from Jaleel.

“Hey!” Jaleel said.

“Thanks for collecting all of these.”

Orson read to himself.

You were great today. Teddy told me about your plan. I intended to listen for you. I did not need to. Everyone knows what you did. You saved so many people. By the time you see this you will be hiding or looking for a place to hide. Stop hiding. You need a base. You needed somewhere all year. I do not know why this is the last place you go. My inn is better protected than Littlefield or Wayfarers Rest. Unless Teddy has the whole family visiting. Maybe even then. I have a key too. You will need to come here eventually to collect them all. Mrs. Montgomery told me about the Dreamside Road. I might know more than you do if all you have to go on are hints from the Cloud films. We should talk anyway. Been a really long time. What makes you think this is something you need to do alone? Not true. Let me know when you are safe. Sirona

Orson pictured Sirona like he’d seen her in the images stolen of her, but with a pendant around her neck like the one he wore, crescent moon and tree instead of moon and tower. To find all keys, he would have to see her.

Orson read the words a second time and chuckled to himself.

“Woah,” Jaleel said. “What did she say to make you smile after all this?”

The warning alarm sounded before Orson could answer.

“Foreign agent,” Ruby said. “Foreign signal. Small energy signature beneath floor segment B-Five. Foreign signal.”

“What?” Max stirred awake. He blinked sleep from his eyes. “What’s happening?” Kol still didn’t move.

“We don’t know what’s happening yet,” Dr. Stan said. “Orson, excellent call with the diagnostic.”

“Thanks,” Orson said. “Ruby, are we being tracked?”

“No outgoing signature,” Ruby said. “But foreign energy. An invader is here, hiding.”

“Some weapon?” Orson adjusted his HUD. Floor segment B-Five glowed yellow.

“How would there be a weapon in there?” Jaleel asked. “How could anybody get in here?”

“What now?” Enoa ran from her bunk. She had her cloak over one shoulder. Wesley rode on the other, chattering. Enoa held her staff, already extended.

“We’ve got something in the floor,” Orson said. “Ruby, any explosive or booby trap signatures?”

“No,” Ruby said. “I don’t have a record named ‘booby trap signature’, but I see no sign of explosive agents.”

Orson fell to the floor, and he found the edges of the paneling with his gloved fingers. He lifted.

“Wait!” Jaleel said. “Don’t hurt him!”

But before Orson could question Jaleel, he looked into his floor and saw another pair of eyes looking back, dark eyes in a pale, lipless, earless face.

“Hello!” The decapitated head of a Jim android smiled up at him.

* * *

Divenoll did not recognize all those gathered in the holodeck. The high ceiling above them was lined with curved screens like a planetarium, but the only illumination glowed out from the floor.

Baron Helmont stood at the far side of the room with his ledgerman and his remaining knights. Captain Davard and his command staff were with them.

And there were other Shapers. One of the late Sir Lezander’s pupils, a man named Baldari, was there. One of the acolytes of Adrian “Nine-flails” joined him, his armor sporting only six spiked balls.

More Shapers appeared, full color holograms blinked into life. Divenoll saw Lieutenant Colonel Gabrielle Rinlee, new silver rank bars on her shoulders and her arms still bandaged. Two other Ferrant Shapers appeared with her, also women, both bearing ornate polearms.

Divenoll approached the gathering. Helmont looked to all the faces. When more officers’ holograms appeared, he watched them as well, glancing at them all.

“We operate now as a division, as a barony,” he said. “We suffered today, and we made our foes suffer, even in their escape. Now, we face a new beginning together. Now, we all climb as one, and there is place for all of you. There is need of all of you. There is honor and victory for all of you. Now stand with me, as I address Lord Vox, the Voice of His Excellency, the Czar. And we begin our preparations.”

Baron Helmont gave them no opening to respond. He raised his left arm and touched two of his right fingers to the gauntlet.

The walls and ceiling came alive with light. Then the world around them changed. Suddenly they were surrounded by trees of different kinds, dogwood and redbud and chestnut, with so few of the pines that dominated the forests near the Pinnacle. A gigantic glass dome took up most of the far side of the clearing projected around them. By the light of the setting sun, tall swaying branches could be seen inside it. Great winged shapes moved, obscured by the moving tree limbs.

A columned Greek-revival house stood in the dome’s shadow. Other holograms appeared around it. A man in ornate red, white, and gold armor stood in front of the house, flanked by guards in purple and crimson.

“Lord Vox,” Baron Helmont inclined his head. “I come here with representatives of my barony’s might, to report and inform you on current plans.”

“Baron Helmont,” Vox returned the nod. “It is a pleasure, as always. And in light of today’s events, I have prepared all baronies to meet before His Excellency’s house. The Spiritual Advisory is also in attendance.”

“But His Excellency, the Czar, is not?” Helmont asked.

“His exertions continue.” Vox raised a hand toward the dome. “Is there anything that must be reported first, spoken only to my ears, that listen for our founder?”

“No.” Helmont set his jaw firm, but he did not hesitate.

“Then I welcome them.” Vox raised his right fist. “From his seat at Fort Hero, see Lord Weatherhold, Baron of the East, with our Atlantic Admiralty and the officers of all dozen forts.”

Baron Weatherhold appeared first. His hologram winked to life far to the left of Helmont’s gathering. He was dressed like Helmont, the same purple and gold accents, but no cape. Weatherhold was thicker in the shoulders and taller. He sported a heavy mustache. Thirteen other holograms appeared with him, all decorated officers.

“From his Nassau Fortress, see Lord Jeffyrs, Baron of the South, with his new tributary captains and his privateers.”

The next man to appear looked quite old, and his armor fit tight across his chest and stomach, as if it had been created for another man. He was surrounded by a dozen armed guards, all tall and fit. They wore flack vests and generic black tactical gear, not Liberty Corps standard. All wore sheathed blades and rifles on straps across their shoulders.

“Pirates,” Helmont said. “Pirates who ignore our own colors.”

“We seized the Caribbean for you.” Baron Jeffyrs spoke with an accent. He chortled under his breath. “While you were hunting for buried treasure, we hold lands from the Alliances and from the Pan-American Freehold. But we’re the pirates?”

“Ruling mango trees and lemon groves is nothing compared to the Dreamside Road,” Helmont said.

“Enough!” Vox didn’t shout but his voice rose to a boom that echoed and made Divenoll’s ears ache.

“None of this.” Vox returned to a normal speaking volume. “We stand as one.”

Another set of holograms appeared before Vox could continue. The holograms appeared farther back, beyond Weatherhold’s contingent. Two officers stood in front, helmets in hands. They wore standard white with no hints of noble purple or gold. Four plainclothes individuals stood with them, three men in suits and a black-haired woman in a long dress.

“The Territory without a Baron,” Vox said. “Our central north. How are your preparations?”

“When the elections come,” the woman answered. “The people of the Great Lakes Alliance will choose us, and we will choose the Liberty Corps.”

“What contingency do you plan if you are not chosen?” Vox asked.

“We will be chosen,” she replied. “As long as only the right people are allowed a choice.”

Vox snorted. “And now for the Spiritual Advisory. My guard will escort them from the guest chambers. We are joined now by an Emissary of the New Light, by Dr. Delphine of the Four Mysteries Theory, by Lady Arveig of the Teth Research Division, and by Master Ruhland of the Foundations of the Future.”

More guards in purple and black walked from the house, with the four advisors between them. Dr. Delphine wore all white, a jacket to evoke a lab coat, buttoned all the way up her throat. She wore her gray hair chin-length. Divenoll recognized her face, and he also knew the modified hazmat suit of the New Light Emissary, with matching yellow cloak and opaque face mask.

Divenoll knew the others only by process of elimination.

Both were cloaked, their faces hidden, but Arveig’s mask was made in the likeness of a woman’s face. The mask had the slight shine of pristine plastic, blue eyes and the hint of blonde hair. There was even a rosy hue to the cheeks, all of it painted into place like the woman wore a doll’s face. She held a long metal staff in her right hand.

Master Ruhland was the tallest of the four. It strained the eye to look at him. He wore crimson armor that blended into folds of dark cloak. The metal and garment disappeared at its edges, as the hologram struggled and failed to capture his shape.

Only the mask was distinct. It too followed the basic form of a human face, but the eyes were empty and dark, and the mask ended just above the mouth, disappearing into folds of cloth.

All of the advisors came to a stop behind Vox. The Czar’s representative waited for the procession to stop, but he did not turn to greet them.

“Now, Baron Helmont,” Vox said. “Report on the carnage at your holdfast. Tell us about your plans.”

“I must admit a shortcoming,” Baron Helmont said. “The old ways of the IHSA let us down today. The Pinnacle Holdfast was infiltrated, information stolen, prisoners freed. The facility sustained heavy damage, and now my hand is forced. Our long-awaited pursuit of the Dreamside Road Keyholders begins.”

“Infiltrated?” Ruhland stepped forward. He spoke with real warmth and humor, nothing like the ethereal, hissed tones Divenoll had expected from his appearance. “And who could do such a thing? Who could possibly break your perfect record, Baron?”

“He thinks he killed you,” Helmont said. “Did you know, Ruhland? Did you know he’s been traveling this world spreading stories of your defeat and death at his hand?”

“He has a gift for surprise attacks,” Ruhland said. “You learned that well today. In another life and on another path, maybe it would have been me who felt that fire. Or maybe my instincts would have saved me. But we both have survived our surprises now.”

“Have we?” Helmont asked. “Perhaps you are merely the latest in a long line of zealots to wear that mask. Perhaps your reputation is all illusory. That armor you love so dearly is not as impregnable as you believe.”

“I wear nothing you’ve touched.” Ruhland laughed with true mirth. “And you haven’t learned to recognize without touch, have you? Of course not, otherwise you would see with more than your eyes. You couldn’t be fooled by the face I’ve chosen. You would know who I am.”

“I will learn your armor when you next send your pets to spy on me.” Helmont did not laugh in return.

“How could you possibly catch them?” Ruhland asked. “Better yet, how will you catch our young friend when you meet him again? You’ve shown your hand. He knows the trick to your Tactum. Even the imitation of my armor was more than enough to thwart you.”

“What about Cloud’s heir?” Lady Arveig walked ahead to stand beside Ruhland. “You had her within arm’s reach and let her go, Helmont.”

“You are no better than Sir Rowan.” Helmont actually raised his voice. “All impulse. You have no place making decisions for this body, how blinded you are by emotion, by revenge.”

“Where is Sir Rowan?” Vox asked. “Are the rumor’s true? Betrayal and flesh transmutation? Discovery and death?”

“How many of your knights did you liquefy, Helmont?” Ruhland asked. “Almost half of your usual twelve are missing, and surely young Gregory didn’t best all of them. And by the looks of your gathering, you’ve already begun auditioning replacements.”

“Rowan was blinded by his base desires,” Helmont said. “I was too patient with his weakness, but I’ve learned that lesson. Greed blinds more than its owner. It leads many to death. Only those loyal to our true purpose will remain beside me. I won’t raise knights who are blind like so many here. So many among us are invested only in their own interests, and that is doomed, doomed like the Covenant who began this tradition.”

“I am here only for your Czar,” Ruhland said. “Ilias and I have been friends for so long, but I admit, my political activism does get the best of me. I like to be involved. I just can’t help myself. On that same note, another of my friends captured an interesting video of a large animal leaving the atmosphere of this planet. I think you’d recognize her. Would you like to see her? If any of your ships are still spaceworthy, you could chase her down.”

“Who did you kill to seize satellites?” Helmont asked. “Whose child did you goad to parricide so you could watch the stars?”

“What are we talking about?” Baron Jeffyrs shouted from his side of the gathering. “Some of us have material concerns. I know we serve a man of faith or spirituality, whatever you want to call it. But there are real problems we face. I thought we were here to help Weatherhold with the attacks at Montauk. I’m definitely not interested in watching the Czar’s friends arguing about witchcraft.”

“Yes.” Vox stepped forward again. “Enough of this. Enough. Baron Helmont, I believe most of us have received some hint about the events at the Pinnacle today. I am disappointed by Sir Rowan’s fate. He served us well, and I expect a full report on his betrayal and your judgment. But no recap now. Czar Hawthorne equipped me to grant you the full development fund for repairing your facilities and implementing new security measures.”

“Thank you,” Helmont said. “And my thanks to His Excellency.” He shifted to the side so that he faced only Vox. He looked at neither his fellow Barons nor the various advisors. “Before you discuss other matters. I need permission on two points.”

“Speak,” Vox said.

“I need full reign to utilize the Manifest Destiny.” Helmont gestured to Captain Davard behind him. “I need free reign to send Captain Davard to secure unaligned frontier territory, to strike fear into the Alliance and their allies, so I may move my forces freely to the Balor battle group.”

“This will need to be discussed,” Vox said. “The Alliances could change their tactics. Even a frontier action could begin open war. What is your second request?”

“I stayed my hand by the Czar’s law,” Helmont said. “But if my path crosses again with the Maros brothers, I want their protections lifted. I plan to end both brothers given the chance. I plan to kill all the Aesir crew, no matter what the Czar’s spiritual allies may prefer. Gregory, Cloud, Stanislakova, Yaye, and Maros – all must die.”

“You killed Kesey.” Ruhland spoke up again. “You plan to kill Maxwell Maros. How many paraplegics do you intend to find with the genetic markers needed for the mobility study?”

“Kesey’s death was not my first choice,” Helmont said. “And the mobility study falls entirely within the Shaping studies, well outside the purview of an advisor.”

“I’m sorry.” Ruhland lifted both gauntleted hands, as if in surrender. The motion made his cloak shift, pull aside. A sword was sheathed at his hip. The dark metal of the hilt was almost invisible except when framed by the crimson armor. “I was, after all, the one who set Ilias back on his feet. His mobility research interests me as an extension of my own.”

“You must recapture both Maros.” Dr. Delphine shouted from the gathering of advisors. “You must. Understanding the four mysteries is the most important, the most crucial step in our work. It could be there is a genetic predisposition to works of the third mystery in the Maros line. It could be—”

“It could be that you too value your own interests over the common good,” Helmont interrupted. “There will be other samples, other familial lines. There is only one Dreamside Road trove, and we cannot afford to let it slip away.”

“No need for them to die.” Dr. Delphine shook her head. “Why waste them? They are useful for their DNA, for their breeding stock, so much to lose.”

“We are not entertaining the idea of breeding human beings.” Baron Weatherhold stepped forward from his ring of subordinates. “Operating in frontier lands, you’ve lost your own humanity.”

Divenoll saw Vox step away from the gathering, one hand pressed to the side of his large helmet, palm flat. He seemed to shrink, crouch in on himself, while the others talked and argued and ignored him. Vox doubled down. Then he clutched both hands to his helmet.

“Done!” Vox’s speech boomed again, but the pitch of the voice changed too. The timbre was altered. His words took on a gravely tone, as if a different voice entirely spoke through him. Under the ornate helmet, the Voice of the Czar moved his throat and mouth and gave speech that was truly not his own. Everyone fell silent. “The matter is finished.”

“Your Excellency, sir?” The New Light Emissary asked. “You speak with us now? You honor us with your words.”

“I speak.” The Czar spoke through Vox. The man was literally his voice, his speaker. Vox stood straight, but his head lolled to one side and his arms hung limp. “I know. You have my permission, Baron Helmont. Use the Manifest Destiny. Take your fleet. Win the trove.”

“Thank you.” Helmont made a true bow, bent at the waist.

“And if you encounter the Maros brothers,” the Czar said. “Or Enoa Cloud, or Orson Gregory, or any of them.”

“No!” Arveig shouted. Ruhland only laughed.

“You’ll have all the tests you could hope for in open battle,” the Czar continued. “You’ll learn all you want about Anemos and young Kolben’s power and Captain Gregory’s endless luck. And if their power and luck fail them, then go ahead. Kill them.”