For the last hundred recitations, Prima had done nothing but peel back one report to reveal the next, gaining tiny insights into a species that was utterly familiar at the core.
Then the woman dipped her head, just for a moment, her forehead kissing the desk as she fell into deep sleep.
The ambush came with dreams.
She woke shouting. She was sitting upright with her face sweat-drenched and Sondaw standing before her.
“Madam, are you all right?”
Hardly, and she never would be again.
“You were yelling,” he said. “About Rail.”
“Because it was falling and wanted to pull us down with it.”
The lieutenant nodded soberly, understanding the image too well.
“I’m all right,” she lied.
He looked at the files, the sweat and upside down words.
“What are our loyal allies doing now?” she asked.
“Chasing us and signaling us,” he said. “It took those big ships a long time to leave their berths.”
She knew that would happen.
Sondaw said, “Madam.” He had questions, but the youngster was too polite or lowly to give them words.
Prima turned the pages, letting both of them learn from the incident. King had battled the human witness with insults as well as spit thrown from the ugly tooth-jammed mouth. Even when List took exception to the behavior, the monster boy continued to berate what had been a wealthy, powerful individual.
“Are these records helpful?” Sondaw asked.
“There’s a scheming monster at work,” she said. “Vain and charmless, prepared to cheat and mislead governments and an army of opponents to get his way.”
The lieutenant nodded, believing that he understood.
“I mean List,” she said, correcting the misapprehension. “Every Archon has heard the stories. Believe me, each of us has scars. Even List’s supporters—particularly his supporters—understand that he has few principles, except for earning the greatest profit possible for his office, for the District of the Bloodwoods, and for those who can stomach watching him slice apart every political threat.”
The young man flipped back through the rest of the files, finding the brief, inadequate account of Diamond battling with King.
“Somehow our child won,” he said doubtfully.
Prima didn’t hear the comment. “Yet List does seem to be civilizing his son,” she continued. “An armored beast roaming Creation, yet the boy ate dinner with me at the last festival . . . .a young man who stayed calm and in control. It’s hard to believe, but he seemed ten times more appealing that his adopted father.”
“Yes, madam,” Sondaw said.
“Which makes King even more dangerous,” she said.
Suddenly her aide was tense enough to tremble.
She didn’t understand his thoughts.
“You think that King is responsible,” he said.
“Responsible?”
“For the attack on Rail and Marduk,” the lieutenant said. “The monster found allies to help him try and kill the boy again. That’s what you’re thinking.”
“Honestly, no,” she said.
Not until that very minute, at least.
The Ghost’s face was gone, replaced with brilliant green light.
Diamond saw blackwoods and other trees that didn’t belong with the wilderness. Beyond that little window, daylight had returned. He blinked and his heart leapt as he stepped closer, nose to the glass. This was some kind of picture, and parts of the picture were moving. Branches swayed. Airships climbed and fell while winged creatures beat at the bright air. One male hairyheart elf came close enough to show its bright face, except the colorings were wrong. Rings were etched inside the purple plumage on the breast, but Diamond knew that bird didn’t have rings. That was a wrong detail, until he remembered how Master Nissim once said in class, “We have our light, what our eyes enjoy. But blossoms and feathers sometimes have details that we can’t see. They hide past violet, and without special tools, we’re as bad as blind.”
Two fingers and the new thumb touched the glass.
The picture ceased moving.
Stubborn latches held the window closed, but Diamond managed to open them and pull the glass into the cabin far enough that his head and neck could fit into the gap. Then the picture began to move again. Birds had voices and the nearest airships moved with engine sounds, but far more impressive, Diamond found his nose full of rich flowery stinks and rain smells and an aroma that was like an animal, only it wasn’t.
Diamond eased his healed hand through the opening.
Out from the bright air, an insect’s limb emerged—jointed shells ending with a collection of hard dry fingers.
Those fingers reached for his hand.
Diamond pulled back.
Then the Ghost touched him on the face, so lightly and so carefully that the sensation seemed to fall short of being real. And the creature had a soft quick voice, not human or anything else.
“Quest,” it said.
“What?”
“My name is Quest.”
Diamond asked, “Why?”
“The word suits me,” it said.
The boy wasn’t sure what to think, and he tried to empty his head.
“Do you remember before?” Quest asked.
“Before?”
“Before this world.”
“Maybe,” said Diamond. Then he pushed his hand and arm deeper into the picture of the Corona District. Fingertips found a curved surface, warm and dry. The insides of a huge empty snail shell felt this way.
“I like to watch you,” said Quest.
Diamond’s hand returned to the cabin.
“I make eyes like you make hair,” said Quest. “I watch Creation.”
“If I could grow more eyes, I would,” said the boy.
There were clicking noises that sounded happy, or it was just clicking.
“We’re brothers,” Diamond ventured.
“I’m female,” said Quest, her insect hand retreating.
“Oh.”
“You and King are male.”
Diamond was surrounded by Quest, and the air was growing stale. He pulled his head back inside but left the window open.
“I watch everything,” his companion repeated.
One question begged to be asked, but Diamond didn’t speak quickly enough.
“You were taken from the corona before I was,” Quest said.
“Who took you?”
“A tree-walker,” she said.
“Which one?”
The scene dissolved into gray light, and then a simple image was drawn on the grayness. One man’s face appeared, sturdy and unfamiliar. It would take some thought, but Diamond said his first impression. “I don’t know your father.”
“He’s not my father,” she said.
He started to ask.
“He’s a thief,” she said. “Thieves like to steal from the corona kills. He was dressed like a slayer when he stepped inside the stomach. Three of us were still there. The man saw your father take you, and then he went inside. He picked up King first and could have taken him. He wished that he would have. But I was the smallest, the easiest to hide, and he carried me to his home.”
“Where is that?”
“He lives in the wilderness.”
“When did you leave him?”
“I can’t leave him,” she said.
“I don’t understand,” Diamond said.
“I shared his house for three hundred and fifty-seven days,” said Quest. “Every sight remains seen, every moment keeps living. What is part of me cannot be left behind.”
Diamond was exhausted, baffled. Meanwhile Good remained under the cot, and the papio were still shouting in distant parts of the ship. Bountiful was pushing toward some important destination, and night might hold tight for a very long while. More questions begged to be asked but the boy said nothing, carefully remembering each one of his questions.
“I lived inside a strong cage made of steel and corona parts,” Quest said. “The thief fed me good foods, and some bad foods, and he gave me water. I learned to how to shape myself while I grew, and then I stopped growing. He wanted me to be large and important. So I stayed small and ugly.”