After ten minutes standing in her featureless cabin, the starship detected a minute distortion within the quantum fields. Another ultradrive ship dropped out of hyperspace next to hers. The newcomer was slightly larger, with streamlined bulges in its ovoid fuselage. They maneuvered together and linked airlocks.

Marius glided into Valean’s cabin, his toga suit emitting wisps of darkness that trailed along in his wake.

“A physical meeting is somewhat theatrical, isn’t it?” he inquired. “Our TD (transdimensional) linkages remain secure.”

“They do,” Valean assured him, and smiled, revealing rows of tiny burnished brass teeth. “However, it was felt that this would add more emphasis to the message.”

“Which is?”

“Your Chatfield fuck-up has produced an unwelcome fallout, the largest part of which I’m on my way to solve.”

“Paula Myo was on to him. Deploying him to Ellezelin was a simple precaution.”

“And do you have an excuse for the Cat?”

Marius remained impassive. “Her behavior can be unpredictable. That is her nature. As I recall, it was not my decision alone to salvage her from Kingsville.”

“Irrelevant. Your actions have produced unwelcome consequences at this critical time. As of now you are downgraded.”

“I object.” Even as he said it, he tried to call Ilanthe, only to find the call rejected. Still, his cool disposition remained unbroken.

The brass teeth appeared again, their sharp tips perfectly aligned. “Irrelevant. Your new assignment is the Delivery Man.”

“That joke!” Marius exclaimed.

“We approach deployment, the culmination of everything we are. Nothing can be allowed to interfere with that. He was seen on Fanallisto; find out why. What is he doing there, what are the Conservatives up to? We also need to know how the remaining faction agents will react afterward.”

“Victory is only hours away and you send me to some shitball outside civilization to track down an incompetent part-time animal. I do not deserve this.”

“Failure to comply will result in bodyloss. After the Swarm goes active, there will be no re-life available. I suggest you make your selection.”

The dark hazy tendrils exuded by Marius’s toga suit swirled in agitation. He glared at Valean, sending Olympian contempt flooding out through his gaiamotes. “The true reason for physical contact, I see. Very well. I will comply. I am nothing if not devoted to our success.”

“Of course you are.”

Marius rotated a hundred eighty degrees and slipped out back to his own ship.

“Thank you,” Valean mouthed at the airlock door after it closed. She ordered the smartcore to take her to Ellezelin.

Cleric Conservator Ethan had returned to the Mayor’s oval sanctum in the Orchard Palace. The Cabinet Security Service had downgraded the threat level, partially based on Ethan’s own conversation with ANA:Governance. The surviving ship was simply maintaining a stable orbit around Ellezelin and gathering up fragments of its vanquished foe.

His staff had served him a late supper of grilled gurelol fillets with minted potatoes and baby carrots, washed down with a sparkling white similar in taste to the one from Love’s Haven that Edeard had come to enjoy during his first life with Kristabel. It was dark outside, with few stars showing through the oval sanctum’s windows. Ethan ate by himself at a small table away from the big muroak desk, overhead a series of petal-like lines glowing a pale orange in the high ceiling. Shadows washed out from the walls, making the room seem even larger.

He was just pouring himself a second glass of wine when his u-shadow reported that Phelim was making a priority call.

Please, Lady, no more bad news tonight, Ethan thought wearily as he accepted the secure link. He was still awaiting the call from Marius’s “friend.”

“We’ve found her,” Phelim declared.

Ethan paused, the wine not quite out of the bottle’s neck. “Who?”

“The Second Dreamer. The advanced pattern recognition routines located her for us. She’s sharing Inigo’s Eleventh Dream, would you believe.”

“Great Lady! Do you have her safe?”

“No, that’s where the problem begins. She’s not on Viotia anymore.”

“Damn. Where is she, then?”

“Chobamba.”

“Where?” Even as he asked, Ethan’s u-shadow was pulling data out of the central registry. “That can’t be right,” he said, putting the bottle down.

“My response exactly. But the routines are good. The Dream Masters running them swear that’s an accurate reading. She started sharing the Eighth Dream twenty minutes ago.”

“The Eighth?”

“Yes.”

Ethan knew it couldn’t be particularly relevant, but his curiosity about the enigmatic Araminta was overwhelming. “So why did she skip over to the Eleventh?”

“She didn’t,” Phelim said. “She’s on a linear run-through.”

“Four dreams in twenty minutes?” Ethan said it out loud, his surprise echoing around the empty sanctum. At best, he would take a couple of hours to dwell in one of Inigo’s dreams, and that was because he was so familiar with them. Some of the more devout Living Dream followers had been known to spend days in a dream, supporting themselves with intravenous feeds.

“Absolutely. That’s what convinced me this isn’t a false reading. Her mind is … different.”

“How in the Lady’s name did she get to Chobamba? It was definitely her at Bodant Park; you confirmed that.”

“Someone must have flown her there. And it must have been an ultradrive starship; there’s nothing else fast enough.”

“So one of the factions got her and lifted her offplanet. Lady damn them.”

“That’s the obvious conclusion. But it’s a strange way to hide. If she wanted to be completely secure, she should have gone to a Central world where we have no control over the confluence nests. The faction must know that. Perhaps this is a message. Though its nature eludes me.”

Ethan sat back in the chair, staring at the slim curving bands of light in the ceiling. The flowers they sketched had never been seen on Querencia or anywhere in the Greater Commonwealth. That is if they even were flowers. Edeard had always hoped to find them, but not even the grand voyages of his twenty-eighth and forty-second dreams had taken him to a land where they grew. And now Araminta was providing an even greater mystery.

“We have to have her,” Ethan declared. “It’s that simple. Whatever the cost. Without her, the only contact humanity has to the Void is”-he shuddered-“Gore Burnelli. And I think we know where he stands.”

“Justine can do nothing,” Phelim countered smoothly.

“Don’t be too sure. They are a remarkable family. I’ve been accessing what I can of their history. And I suspect there’s a great deal that was never put into any records. Gore was one of ANA’s founders, you know. There are rumors of a special dispensation.”

“So what do you want to do?”

“How long before you have her exact location?”

“She’s in a town called Miledeep Water, which presents us with a slight problem. It is somewhat isolated, and we don’t actually have anyone reliable there. The Dream Masters are going to have to visit its confluence nest to get an exact coordinate for her. It’ll be an hour before we know exactly where she is, probably longer. I’m just hoping she shares Inigo’s dreams for long enough.”

“Do we also have the kind of people on Chobamba who are capable of bringing her to us?”

“There are some very loyal followers in the movement there, people I can trust. I’d like to suggest we hire some weapons-enriched troops to back them up. It’s pretty clear she’s got faction representatives guarding her.”

“As you wish. And Phelim, I don’t want another Bodant Park.”

“Nobody does. But that is probably out of our hands.”

“Yes. I expect you’re right. Please keep me informed of progress.”