'I know.'
'Then why . . . oh, wait. I see.' She looked at him now, all empathy gone; something of the old Sayaca contempt showing through. 'You'll blackmail us, won't you? Threaten to tell the Council if we don't provide you with the syrinx.'
'You said it, not me.'
'Gallinule and I don't have that kind of influence, Merlin.'
'Then you'd better find it. It's not much to ask, is it? A small token of your gratitude for my silence. I'm sure you can think of something.' Merlin paused. 'After all, it would be a shame to spoil everything now. Halvorsen's story sounded so convincing too. I almost believed it myself.'
'You cold, calculating bastard.' But she said it with half a smile, admiring and loathing him at the same time.
'Just find a way, Sayaca. I know you can. Oh, and one other thing.'
'Yes?'
'Look after my brother, will you? He may not have quite my streak of brilliance, but he's still one of a kind. You're going to need people like him on the other side.'
'We could use you too, Merlin.'
'You probably could, but I've got other business to attend to. The small matter of an ultimate weapon against the Huskers, for instance. I'm going to find it, you know. Even if it takes me the rest of my life. I hope you'll come back and see how I did one day.'
Sayaca nodded, but said nothing. They both knew that there were no more words that needed to be said.
And, true to his expectations, Sayaca and Gallinule had come through. The syrinx was with him now - an uninteresting matt-black cone that held the secrets of crossing light-years in a few breaths of subjective time - sitting in its metal harness inside Tyrant. He did not know exactly how they had persuaded the Council to release it. Quite possibly there had been no persuasion at all, merely subterfuge. One black cone looked much like another, after all.
This, however, was the true syrinx, the last they had.
It was unimaginably precious now, and he would do his best to learn its secrets in the weeks ahead. Countless millions had died trying to gain entry to the Waymakers' transit system, and it was entirely possible that Merlin would simply be the next. But it did not have to be like that. He was alone now - possibly more alone than any human had ever been - but instead of despair what he felt was a cold, pure elation: he now had a mission, one that might prove to be soul-destroyingly difficult, even futile, but he had the will to accomplish it.
Somewhere behind him the syrinx began to purr.