“Destroying precedents older than any tree,” she said, invoking that hoary cliché.
“A mixed force, a balanced force. Every District would have a picked contingent.”
But Baffle District and the Mists, Bluetear and the rest of her allies would send only an elderly scout ship or two. Only the District of Districts had the resources and buffer zones to station forces outside their home berths. List was making noise for its own sake, and Prima had her own fine reasons to say nothing, jotting a question down on privacy paper, folding it and sealing it before handing the slip to the waiting officer.
The lieutenant nodded, put the slip into a pocket and left.
“How many wings have you seen?” asked List.
“Three wings patrolling near the reef,” she said. “Other machines were running on their landings. But they’ve been put back to bed again.”
“And the papio,” he began.
“Yes?”
“Have you had been in contact with them?”
Prima threw her gaze out the long windows, but all she saw was a small man made sick with ambition.
“Just tell me,” she said. “What are you hunting here?”
Laughter was the response, or the wires invented that noise out of the random vibrations. Either way, List seemed to enjoy himself. “The coral-shitters are making outrageous claims. They’re innocent, they are blameless, and we’re fools for thinking whatever it is we’re thinking.”
The tone was peculiarly aggressive, and important.
“Our local consulate sent everybody to my door,” Prima admitted. “Maybe they’re lying, but these diplomats seem terrified. The same as you, they claim to be helpless spectators to this ugliness.”
“Of course,” List said.
“I insisted on their help. I want to understand who would gut my district, brutally murdering so many, all in the useless attempt to kill one of my citizens.”
“How did the papio respond?” List asked.
“They showed incisors and claimed my best allies were responsible.”
The hiss of the wire ended with a curt, “Nonsense.”
“Of course I told them that they were mistaken,” said Prima. “Our allies and our friends of convenience have no motivation here. But the papio assured me that my species is afraid of the boy, that certain old notions don’t relish what he represents. And that’s why they want him burnt up and lost to our world.”
Suddenly loud, seemingly close, the Archon of Archons said, “That’s not my wish, madam. Not in the least.”
“I understand that. Believe me, I do.”
“You know my feelings. The boy’s a treasure, and I’ve always thought he would be safe and happy living with me.”
“You can’t say anything else,” she said. “Not and remain believable.”
List sighed.
A second voice intruded, shouting with that hard distinct bark. “Is the little fellow safe?”
King was yelling.
“Diamond’s quite safe,” she said.
“The one blessing in this very miserable day,” said List.
Sad to think, she had doubts about this supposed blessing. Without the boy, the future would become more predictable. Not that anything in the world would ever find its way back to normal again, but the human mind kept searching for the expected and the boring—that’s where most of life’s blessings were waiting.
With a careful tone, List said, “Madam.”
A blackwood cabinet stood near Prima, sporting rows of important lights. A few lights were beginning to flicker.
“Where’s the boy now, if I might ask?”
“Sitting across from me,” she lied. “His father and his teacher are here, and his monkey is asleep on his lap.”
“I am glad to hear that,” he said.
“And what about your son?”
“King is well, thank you.”
“And safe, I trust?”
“As safe as anyone on this day.”
“Indeed,” said Prima.
Then the Archon of Archons ended their difficult conversation with remarkable honesty: “Give that young man your very best, Prima. Because I doubt he would ever accept mine.”
“I will do that,” she said gladly.
“And we’ll see one another soon,” he said.
The line went quiet before she could offer a polite response, her ear filled with static. Setting the receiver on the desk, she thought about King. Just hearing the voice in the background triggered memories, few of them pleasant. Each time she met the creature, he was noticeably bigger and more powerful. But what mattered more than strength or the hideous appearance was the slow transformation in the creature’s character. King could still yell like a monster and pout like a little boy, but he was learning how to stand in one place and carry on a civil conversation. The brute was maturing, or he pretended to be older and wiser while his nature remained the same. How could she judge? He was a puzzle. The armored face with its two ugly mouths and hard black eyes gave away nothing about his real thoughts. Politicians read emotions, but when that creature wanted, he could make himself into a statue, spitting out canned phrases along with silence.
List was vile, but he was a man. She accepted the Archon’s shrewdness and the craving for power, but Prima never doubted that she could piece together what was honest inside the fabrications, and where the big smile meant nothing but one mouth full of bright teeth.
The lieutenant had returned with a fresh slip of privacy paper.
Prima broke the seal. The sloppy hand of a fletch captain had written, “Happenstance fully loaded, at the ready.”
She nodded and dropped the note into a fire tank.
The lieutenant waited.
“Your name is Sondaw,” she said.
“Yes, madam.”
Sondaw was a member of the Regulars. The youngster had a pleasant face, a man’s features drawn over a boy’s bones, nothing behind the eyes but nervous energy and an instinctive need to please his superiors.
She said, “When I was little, your grandfather visited our home for dinner.”
“My father’s father. Yes, madam.”
“He was the great general charged with rebuilding our fleet, and needing the best materials, he was building good relations with my parents.”
The lieutenant was thrilled for the attention, but he still chewed at a lip, unsure where this moment would lead.
“I want to use you, Sondaw.”
“How, madam?”
“I need certain files,” she explained. “Start with our Intelligence Department. Tell Lady Rankle that the merchant’s daughter wants to see everything she has about the King entity. I want observations and speculations, and if there are any prophetic dreams, leave them at the bottom of the stack, please.”
The officer was willing but puzzled.
To focus his attentions, Prima added, “This is your only priority.”
Sondaw nodded and then walked away, and seeing an opportunity, other officers and aides converged on their boss. Prima dealt with refugees and power outages, and she looked at fuel stocks and ammunition manifests. Then she started to address the ongoing problems with Hanner and the tree’s slow death, her mind making the inevitable turn, praying to the Creators that this endless awful day would end.
That was when the blackwood cabinet began to buzz.
She heard the warning before noticing that half of the red lights were flashing slowly and then faster. There wasn’t much room left inside her for fear, but there was still enough curiosity to make her heart skip. She approached the cabinet and the lights. Suddenly two colonels pushed past her, their fears soaring.
Hundreds of days ago, these same men had explained this machine to their new Archon, mixing expert words with rigid poise. Details were lost, but Prima retained the image of microphones set in far places, scattered across the wilderness between her District and the reef. Each sensor sent home the most common forest noises. Only the loudest, shrillest tones caused the lights to come alive, and then only when a fletch passed nearby, or maybe a single papio wing making a reconnaissance sweep. But even the loudest roar normally produced just one or two slow flashes from adjacent bulbs. But these flashes were rapid, which was significant, and the officers were plugging headsets into the portals under the busiest lights, numbly listening to noises beyond their experience.