“Thank you,” she said. Ridiculously, her eyes were watering. She smiled over at Clouddancer, who bowed so solemnly toward her, it left her feeling hopelessly inadequate. “Do you have any suggestions for your new Friend?” she asked the pair of them, hating how weak she sounded. “My ex-husband said he’d help me, but he’s not quite the most reliable of people even if his heart is in the right place.”

“Laril isn’t independent anymore,” Bradley Johansson told her. “He can still offer advice that would be helpful, but it is not his own.”

“Oh. Right.” How do you know this? That was a stupid question; she was always allowing herself to be misled by the apparent carefree child like lifestyle the Silfen followed. There is more to them than this, a lot more. “So it’s Oscar, then? Will he be able to help me with the machine-thing you warned me about?”

Clouddancer and Bradley Johansson exchanged a look. “Probably not,” Clouddancer said. “Nobody really understands what it is.”

“Somebody must know or be able to work it out,” she said.

“That is for you to find, Friend Araminta.”

“Oh, come on! The whole galaxy is at stake here, including your own existence. Just for once cut the mystic crap and give me some practical help.”

Bradley Johansson made his shrill chuckling noise again. “There is someone you could ask, someone who may be smart enough to work things out for you. He was a phenomenal physicist once. And he was named a Silfen Friend.”

“Yeah, and look what he did with that most honorable of gifts,” Clouddancer growled.

“Of course he did,” Bradley Johansson said, sounding amused. “That is what makes him who he is. That is why he is our Friend.”

“Who?” Araminta demanded.

“Ozzie,” Clouddancer sighed.

“Ozzie? Really? I thought … Is he still alive?”

“Very much so,” Bradley Johansson said.

“Well, where the hell is he?”

“Outside the Commonwealth. Oscar can get you there.” He paused, letting out a sorrowful whistle. “Probably. Remember, Friend Araminta, you must walk with caution from now on.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be careful. That part you can really depend on.”

“Come back to us afterward,” Clouddancer said.

“Of course I will.” There was a tiny ripple of doubt in her thoughts that she swiftly quashed. This is all so massive. Visiting Ozzie! For … Ozzie’s sake.

Bradley Johansson took her hand, and they walked toward the top of the little wooded ravine. Araminta blew out a long breath and strode forward confidently. Somewhere up ahead of her, winding through the trees and thick bushes, she could sense the path to Francola Wood stirring at her approach.

“A last word for you, if I may,” Bradley Johansson said. “Anger is a fine heat, one which you are now experiencing. Anger from being put in this position through no real fault of your own, anger at the stupidity of Living Dream. This anger behind your determination will power you at the start, allowing you to be the force you want to be. Then there will come a moment when you look around and see all you have carried before you. That is the most dangerous time, the time when you can lose faith in yourself and falter. That cannot happen, Friend Araminta. Keep your anger, fuel it, let it carry you forward. See this through to the final bitter end no matter what. That is the only way to take others with you: to be a force of nature, the proverbial unstoppable force. You can do this. You have so much in you.”

She smiled bashfully. “I will. I promise. I can keep focused.” Like you wouldn’t believe.

Bradley Johansson stopped, and a four-fingered hand ushered her onward with a grand gesture as his wings extended fully. He made an imposing figure, poised between two species, two styles of life. She turned her back to him and strode forward, refusing to let any doubt gain refuge in her mind. Ahead of her the path began to open.

The building had been a single house once, designed as an extravagant ten-bedroom residence for a wealthy owner, with expansive reception rooms opening out onto a big garden that dropped down to the crowded forest of dapol trees that marked the city boundary. There was even a teardrop-shaped swimming pool beneath a spectacular white wing roof. It fit in perfectly with the Francola district’s original ethos as an enclave of successful, wealthy residents who would enjoy a modicum of privacy afforded by the tree hedges between their imposing properties. A taste of the countryside inside the city.

After a promising start, the district had drifted on Colwyn City’s economic tides. The houses fell from fashion and were snapped up by developers to be turned into even more stylish apartments. Redevelopment took the district further downmarket, depressing prices still more.

On the upside, that same depressed market meant that there were a lot of empty apartments for rent. Oscar and the team managed to secure a well-positioned apartment on the old house’s ground floor. It had two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a lounge squeezed into what used to be one of the brash reception rooms. But the lounge had a panoramic window wall opening onto a lawn that ran all the way down to the edge of Francola Wood itself, giving them a perfect observation post.

Sitting on a pyramid of cushions they’d moved in front of the window wall, Oscar could just glimpse the shimmer of the city force field through the dark trees. He wasn’t using his field scan function; that would be too much of a giveaway. Not that it stopped other teams. His biononics occasionally would catch a quick scan originating close by. Liatris had identified seven other apartments along the street that had been leased out in the last twenty hours. Two other perfectly legitimate flats had been quietly taken over by teams who thought their subterfuge would leave them less visible. They weren’t good enough to evade Liatris.

But what comes around … thought Oscar. He was sure everyone else knew about them as well.

Three of the rival teams had reduced their personnel after it became clear Araminta had left Chobamba. With a whole galaxy of worlds now available to her, they’d decided it was extremely unlikely she’d ever return here to the heart of Living Dream’s occupation army. That view was one he shared, but waiting here on the off chance was better than trying to guess where else she could turn up.

It was midmorning, and as it was his shift, Oscar had been in his armor suit for five hours watching the forest when Paula called.

“Any sign of her?”

Oscar resisted the urge to roll his eyes; the gesture would be completely wasted. “None of the thirteen teams scanning from all along the street have noticed anything. And the eight Ellezelin capsules on permanent patrol overhead report an equally negative result. I imagine the new Welcome Team, which is actually lying in wait in the woods, is bereft, too.”

“There’s no need for sarcasm.”

“Face it, Paula, this is a dead end. We did our best. We got her clear of Living Dream and the others; it’s up to her now.”

“I know. But several agents followed her onto the Chobamba Silfen path before it closed up.”

“Then we’ll never see them again. Not for centuries, anyway.”

“I’d like to think we have centuries.”

“We’ll stay here for another day or two. Unless you know better. How about it, Paula? Do you have contacts among the Silfen?”

“Not really.”

“Ah, you surprise me. If anyone has …”

“But I have just been talking to the SI.”

Oscar couldn’t help it; he burst out laughing. On the other side of the lounge, Beckia shot him a puzzled look.

“Only you, Paula,” Oscar said happily. “How is the SI?”

“Unchanged. It claims. However, it has taken care of one potentially dangerous loose end. Araminta now has no one else left in the Commonwealth to turn to.”