Salt turned away, carrying the damaged cable tenderly, and another cleverman came to join him, examining the connection.
*It needs to be done,* Quicksilver said. *I’ve given you everything I can — *
*Quicksilver.*
Quicksilver turned on his heel, his long coat flying. The blade in the doorway was a stranger, his mind bright and scattered like sunlight on glass, his hair bound back in an elaborate double club.
*The queen requests your presence.*
*I am at her command,* Quicksilver said. In spite of himself, he glanced at Ember, and the other cleverman nodded.
*I will accompany you if you wish.*
*The queen wishes to speak to Quicksilver,* Sunshard said. *Not to you.*
There was a moment when it might have tipped into violence — half the clevermen were Ember’s own — but then Ember stiffly bowed his head.
*So be it,* Quicksilver said. *Stay and finish this.*
He followed Sunshard through the corridors as they wound slowly toward the heart of the hive. Bright Venture was a healthy ship again, and her crew was busy, blades leading teams of drones about their business, here and there a junior cleverman testing the tone of hull and bone. Rumor said they would need to Cull again soon, to supply all the men now working aboard, but Ember said the cells had seemed full enough. They passed through the large assembly room, where a quartet of drones waited in mindless patience, and the door of the zenana opened to them.
The inner chamber was in an uproar, the air hard with crowding thoughts. Quicksilver checked in the doorway, seeing the lords caught mid-quarrel, and Sunshard gave him a look that was like a shove.
*My queen. The chief of the physical sciences, as you required.*
Death swung to face him, skirts flying. Her hair gleamed in the shiplight, and her courtiers ducked their heads as though they were afraid to catch her eye. Even in her anger she was beautiful, Quicksilver thought, and made his own obeisance.
*My queen.*
*So.* Despite her temper, she paused to smile at him. *The very man we need.*
*This is not his business.* That was the youngest blade, Sky, his own anger barely in check, and Guide stirred in his corner.
*My queen, I must agree. This is a matter for blades, not clevermen.*
*He is the one who gained entrance for us before,* the Old One said. *It will be he who takes down their defenses this time as well. If he can.*
*We need not risk it,* Farseer said. *My queen, we have energy shields — thanks to Quicksilver, I fully acknowledge it — and we have installed them on nearly all our ships. Let us take a fleet against Atlantis, not fiddle about with attacks through the Stargate.*
*We have attacked Atlantis before,* the Old One said. *Without success.*
*Their ships were too strong for us,* Noontide said. *And I believe they still will be. I remind you that these new shields require much power — *
*We cannot delay,* Sky said, and Farseer bared teeth at him.
*Enough,* Death said. *We have talked that to death, and I have given my decision. We will not attack the city from space until all our ships are ready, and Quicksilver has worked out this new power plant.*
Quicksilver looked warily at Death, afraid he knew exactly what they wanted from him, and she smiled again, laying her off hand on his shoulder. *We are on the knife’s-edge, cleverman,* she said, and made the word a caress. Her touch was delicate, thrilling, and Quicksilver suppressed a shiver. *My Old One has proposed another attack, while we know their shield is compromised, and you, Quicksilver, have given us control of their computers. But Noontide believes they will have found a way to counter us, and Guide, who has fought the Lanteans more than any man, agrees with him.*
*It has been my experience that the Lanteans cannot be taken the same way twice,* Guide said, with a deferential bow.
Sky tossed back his hair. It fell almost to his waist, Quicksilver saw with envy, straight and silver and unbound. *Yet if we can weaken them further — we must try.*
*You should lead it then,* Farseer said. *For I will not.*
*You will do as I bid you,* Death said. *And I bid you depart my presence.*
Her tone was like the slap of a hand. Farseer flinched and bent his knee.’*My queen — *
*No more. Return when I summon you and not before.*
For an instant, the room sang with Farseer’s fear and anger, and then he had mastered himself. *As my queen commands,* he said, and turned away.
The drones opened the door for him, and the lords of the zenana drew aside from him as he passed. Death raked the room with her stare.
*Do not doubt me,* she said, soft now as silk, *for I am your queen.* She let her gaze sweep the room a final time, daring them to defy her. *But we have more important matters. Quicksilver. You lowered their shields before. Can you do it a second time?*
*Maybe,* he began, but her eyes met his, and he could refuse her nothing. *Yes. Yes, I can.*
The camp looked pretty much like every other dig site William had ever worked in, a couple of tents rigged to shelter the equipment, and a makeshift kitchen where most of the crew had gathered in the morning chill, huddled close to the fire while a woman who had bound her braids up in a scarf dispensed cups of the hot mint-lemon-and-smoke-flavored tea. A second bucket had been set aside to cool, ready for the heat of the day, along with a box of MREs and a couple of smaller baskets of Satedan rations. William took his place in line, let her fill his travel mug — he’d already had a couple of offers to trade for it, would probably succumb one of these days — and ducked through the doorway into what had been the museum’s loading area. The stairwell there was one of the less damaged, though the big elevator shaft was blocked by the wreckage of the car; it had taken them a full day of hard labor to shore up the walls and clear a passage, but he thought they might be just about ready to see what was in the catacombs.
The combat engineers had already gotten the generator going, and the lights rigged, and a thin Satedan woman was talking to one of them as they both peered dubiously into the opening. He could see Radek a little beyond them, checking the supports, and his steps slowed in spite of himself. Not that he was avoiding Zelenka, he told himself. It was just easier to gather his thoughts in relative quiet.
“So, today’s the day, huh, doc?”
That was Corporal Sinclair, one of the engineers, a pottery cup of tea in one hand.
“If we’re lucky,” William answered.
“Say.” Sinclair glanced over his shoulder, lowered his voice just a little. “You were at the meetings, right?”
“I was,” William said, warily.
“What did Colonel Sheppard say to get the Genii to back down? I was on Atlantis the first time, and those little — those guys never seemed to give up.”
“Damned if I know,” William said. “I agree, Chief Ladon conceded much more quickly than I would have anticipated. But as to why?” He spread his free hand. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Weird,” Sinclair said, and William nodded in heartfelt agreement. It was extremely strange — and someday, he told himself, he would find out what really happened.
“There you are,” Radek said, and came bustling over, brushing dirt from his hands. “I think we are ready to send someone down.”
“I’ll go,” William said. For a moment, he thought Radek was going to protest, but then the scientist shrugged.
“I suppose that’s best. It is your job.”
“Yes,” William said. He was already divesting himself of unnecessary gear, anything that might get caught climbing down through the floor, handed his tea absently to Sinclair. The engineer grinned, but didn’t comment, and William checked his camera and light a final time. “Will you lower me, or do I need to climb?”