Up ahead, the ocean appeared on the horizon where the city dipped down to a broad swath of green park. And there, gleaming in the late afternoon sunlight, Makkathran2 was perched on the shoreline.

“Do you want to go straight to the Orchard Palace, Dreamer?” Captain Darraklan asked. He’d stayed with her after they walked through the wormhole, seemingly appointing himself as her personal guard. She wasn’t about to argue. With his helmet off, he was actually quite handsome in a classic square-jawed way, his floppy chestnut hair reminding her of one of Mr. Bovey’s younger selves.

“No,” she said without taking her gaze from the hauntingly strange reproduction city. “Edeard first entered through the North Gate. Take me there; that will be fitting. I will walk to the Orchard Palace.” Which will give Ethan plenty of time to throw up the barricades, if he dares. She felt a grim amusement coming from Darraklan’s mind as the capsule began to lose altitude. He must have been thinking the same thing.

They touched down on the vast circle of parkland surrounding the crystal wall. As she alighted onto the grass, she glanced back at the armada that was now tussling for ground space. It really had turned the sky dark. She was sure none of them were obeying local traffic control orders anymore. That’s good. A little knot of anarchy which I influence. They don’t all obey Ethan’s laws unquestioningly.

So far everyone was waiting to see what would happen next, pushing her along with their enthusiasm and her apparent newfound relish for the role of Dreamer. All she had to do was supplant Ethan, and the only way to do that was to show her ability and determination were greater than his. Just like Bradley said.

Araminta walked through the great arch in the crystal wall, with people pouring out of their badly parked capsules to form a carnival procession behind her. She didn’t really get much of a look at Makkathran2 from ground level. High Moat, which the gate opened on to, was jammed with people; surely everyone who lived in their shrine city had turned out to welcome her. The cheer that arose at her arrival was deafening. A row of men in Makkathran constable uniforms exactly like those of the Waterwalker’s squad saluted. Darraklan and their sergeant shouted back and forth while Araminta waved at the crowd, all the while moving forward. Never hesitate, never slow.

After a moment the constables fell in around her, easing her passage toward the bridge over North Curve Canal and into Ysidro.

She was wrong about the whole population being on High Moat. Ysidro’s narrow twisting streets were packed solid with supporters, some crying openly. The eerily familiar Blue Fox tavern was there beside the ginger sandstone bridge that took her into Golden Park, where the sunlight was shimmering off the white pillars. Another sea of bodies thronged the vast open space, and the high domes of the Orchard Palace dominated the far skyline.

While she was walking along one of the park’s elegant paths, Darraklan leaned over to murmur in her ear. “The Cleric Council has convened at the entrance to the palace.”

“Wonderful,” she replied. There were a lot of children lining the path, all of them with shining adulation in their eyes. It was hard to keep pushing on knowing she would ultimately betray that trust and reverence. It is their parents who have misled them, not me. I will be the truth for them.

By the time she reached the wire and wood bridge that crossed Outer Circle Canal, her resolution had returned. The thousands of smiling faces that urged her on no longer even registered as she crossed the canal. Darraklan accompanied her while the constables tried to stop the crowd pressing forward into the canal itself. They were all so desperate to see what happened next, their combined thoughts urging the Clerics to acknowledge their new Dreamer.

As Darraklan had said, the Cleric Council was waiting for her just inside the Malfit Hall, resplendent in their scarlet and black robes. Ethan stood in front of them, his white robes shining far brighter than Araminta’s own. Reasonable enough, she admitted. After all, she’d sewn hers together from the lining of Mr. Bovey’s semiorganic curtains.

The Cleric Conservator bowed deeply. “Dreamer,” he said. “Welcome. We have waited so long for this moment.”

Araminta gave him a sly smile. For someone who’d just been politically outmaneuvered, he was in surprisingly good humor. “Be careful what you wish for.”

“Indeed. May I ask why you have finally come forward?”

“It was time,” she replied. “And I wished to end Viotia’s suffering.”

“That was most regrettable.”

“It is past,” she said lightly, knowing how angry her homeworld would be at that. “I am here to lead those who want a better life for themselves, those who chose to live as the Waterwalker did.” Again she appealed to the Skylord, who said: “We await you. We will guide you.”

The gasp of joy from the crowd outside was audible through the hall’s thick walls. She smiled significantly at Ethan: your call.

“We are honored,” he said effusively.

“Thank you. Shall we move to the Upper Council chamber now? We have much to settle.”

Ethan glanced along the line of Cleric Councillors, their uncertain hopeful faces. One of them smiled slickly. “Of course, Dreamer,” he said.

“Rincenso, isn’t it?” Araminta said.

“Yes, Dreamer.”

“I’m grateful for your support.”

“My pleasure.”

I’ll bet it is, you unctuous little tit. “Which way?”

Rincenso’s bow was so deep, it verged on parody. He gestured. “This way, please, Dreamer.”

She watched the eternal storm playing across the ceiling, oddly saddened by the fact it was only a replica of the real Malfit Hall and the vivid images above her were nothing but a copy of Querencia’s planetary system. Now that she’d begun this course of action, she was actually keen to see it resolved, to walk through the real Makkathran and see for herself the streets and buildings where Edeard’s dramas had played out.

They walked silently through the smaller Toral Hall and into the Upper Council chamber. Araminta grinned at the solar vortex playing on its cross-vault ceiling. Here the copper sun’s accretion disc was still in its glory days, not as Justine had just seen it, with the brash comets dwindling and a new planet orbiting where it should never have been.

“You haven’t updated it, then?” she inquired lightly as she walked straight to the gold-embossed throne at the head of the long table.

“This is the Makkathran of the Waterwalker, Dreamer,” Ethan said.

“Of course. Not that it matters; we will soon be leaving here for good. Be seated,” she said graciously.

Ethan claimed the seat on her left-hand side, and Rincenso sat opposite him. There were just enough seats for everyone. No Phelim, she thought sagely. Let’s keep it like that. The thin Cleric unnerved her somewhat.

“May I ask if you intend to keep sharing so widely with the gaiafield?” Ethan said.

“Until we pass into the Void,” she confirmed. “The followers of Living Dream have had too much doubt and trouble intrude into their lives of late, in no small part due to you, Cleric. I feel they need the reassurance of seeing for themselves that I am honestly doing everything I can to lead the Pilgrimage. That is my only concern now. In that respect I will require this council to continue its running of the day-to-day aspects of Living Dream.”

She studied Ethan, curious about how he’d react to the deal. It was so painfully obvious that he didn’t understand or believe in her apparent conversion to the cause. He suspected something but couldn’t see what could possibly be askew.

“I will be delighted to help in any way I can,” Ethan said.

“We all will be,” Rincenso added quickly.