The end of the Throne Room was pierced by stained glass windows in primary colors. The rose window crowned it, twenty meters across. One of its multifoil panes was propped open. I could fit through there. I pulled my wings to my body and folded them up as I felt the feathers brush the mullions. The arcuate sill passed below me; I slipped through.

The dim, silent hall was five hundred meters long, its cross-vaulted ceiling thirty meters high. At the far end was the black screen; way below me was the tiled floor with its scarlet carpet. People no taller than a centimeter looked up as I appeared in front of the rose window, my wings stretched in silhouette against its red and blue light.

I flew at the height of the diaphanous gallery adorned with different colors of marble. Above me were smaller lancet windows, the great bays divided by pointed arches below. Every window gave a fragmentary view of another part of the Castle.

My body rose and fell with wing beats. With every beat I passed an arch-with columns like bundles of thin tubes, supporting ribs interlacing the ceiling. I was in perfect rhythm with the arcades’ march down the Throne Room. They met at the vanishing point, where the Emperor sits.

The capstone bosses were larger than life-a double-headed axe, oak leaves, turtles, cascading cornucopias, flowers complex as chrysanthemums. The walls were bright with daylight. The sun shone on the east side and cast the shadow of the pointed windows all the way down the west vault. San watches these shadows tilt, shorten and reappear on the east vault every day. Above him, the ceiling vanishes up into the octagonal spire; behind him shines the sunburst.

The scent of incense thickened. The marksmen on the balcony looked distressed; then the carved ebony screen filled my vision. I swung my legs down, alighted gently on the carpet before it, and trotted through the portal, pulling my wings in and folding them. I knelt fluidly before the dais.

“My lord Emperor, I have returned from Tris and await your command.”

A crash, scarcely muted by the pierced walls, echoed through the hall. I winced. “What’s happening out there? How can I help?”

San said, “The guards will inform me of the situation outside. Am I right that you can add little news about the rebellion?”

“Lightning is wounded. I left him at Awndyn manor.” I outlined the ambush, the spice ship, and Stormy Petrel hidden in a fissure. I paused at every clash or an outburst of shouting, wondering if they were coming nearer. I could only hear the loudest shouts, chaotic and disjointed. I fretted-why didn’t San send me outside to watch them? The rocks were smashing the outside wall and destroying the buildings in the gap. Can they reach as far as the Palace? If Tornado doesn’t keep them out of range Gio will aim for the spire.

The Emperor listened impassively and at length said, “Be calm, Comet. The Archer’s injuries are to be regretted, yes, but he is not the whole Circle. There are other ways to defeat Gio. Tell me about Tris-everything concerning the island.”

“I have Mist’s written account.” I took the scuffed stack of papers from my satchel, climbed the four steps to the rostrum and passed it to San. His pinched, wolfish face watched me keenly. Under his ivory cloak, his sleeves were loose to the elbow. His fine white hair hung down to curl on narrow shoulders.

A breathless guard ran past the screen then prostrated himself on the floor, his sense of etiquette battling with the need for urgency. “My lord,” he panted, “Hayl’s cavalry have been turned back by the rebel pikemen but casualties are light. Tornado says he must break the rebel lines in a melee if he’s to stop the trebuchets.”

San nodded. “Tell Tornado I have full trust in his judgment. However, remind him that there must be no pursuit once he has broken the resistance.”

The guard stumbled to his feet, bowed, and left.

“My lord,” I said. “Perhaps I should go and help the Strongman. We’re heavily outnumbered.”

The Emperor gave a grim smile. “This situation is not unforeseen. Last month Queen Eleonora offered half her fyrd to guard the walls. I declined as the involvement of Awia in any such engagement would increase discord. Instead the Plainslands manors have shown their loyalty, and the weakness of Gio’s support.”

Two more crashes, only a second apart; falling slates then silence. I looked tentatively at San, unable to hide my doubt.

“Comet, remember that the Circle is composed of the unsurpassed. The strongest warrior and finest horseman in the world defend us. These walls were built by a succession of the world’s preeminent architects. Gio Ami may be the second-greatest swordsman ever but he cannot be everywhere. His followers have disloyal natures or they would not have joined him, and once the battle turns against them he will be unable to hold them for long.”

“My lord.”

“Now, report on Tris.”

I began to describe everything that had happened on our voyage, in chronological order. I took pleasure in doing my job well. San listened to me talk, and act, as I paced back and forth on the carpet before the dais, in a red patch of light cast by the stained glass windows.

Another crash resounded, and the noise of shattering glass-the telescopes and sundials in the Starglass Quadrangle. The Emperor frowned and sent a guard to check on the damage. The Starglass Quadrangle was full of accurate instruments that set the time for the entire Fourlands. In fact, the Fourlands’ prime meridian runs through it; the north axis that crosses the east axis at zero degrees through the Emperor’s throne.

Another soldier sped in. I stepped aside while he flung himself on his knees in front of the throne and spieled out the latest news seen from his vantage point on the Skein Gate tower. “The Select Fyrds have engaged the rebel center. The cavalry are regrouping on the flanks.”

“Very well, return to your post.”

I thought of the picture of San in Tris Istorio. He was acting like a fyrd captain once more. I resumed speaking but was interrupted every fifteen minutes by news of the battle. There were longer waits between the trebuchet impacts now and the shouts were farther away. Tornado and Hayl are driving the rebels back, I thought with relief.

I spoke for so long that we had to break the court session to give me a meal. The four hundred kilometers I had just covered were taking their toll. By the time I finished it was early evening, and the bombardment had ceased some time ago. Nervous servants came in to light the torchères and wind lamps down on chains from the ceiling to fill them. I was exhausted from sleep deprivation and practically flayed by San’s questions.

I stared at the four gemstone columns in the niche behind the throne: blue azurite for Awia, purple porphyry for Morenzia, green jade for the Plainslands, silver-gray hematite for Darkling. For the first time I noticed that although there was equal distance between them, the four columns did not span the apse symmetrically. There was room for another pillar on the far right, just by where some small steps descended to an arched and iron-studded door that led to the Emperor’s private rooms. There was a gap where a column used to be-for the Pentadrica.

An Imperial Fyrd guardsman entered, bowing to give his final message without meeting the Emperor’s eyes. “Tornado reports that the rebels have been routed. Gio Ami didn’t dare face him in combat and his body is not among the fallen.”

“Very well. Tell Tornado and Hayl to bring their reports as soon as they are able.”

The guard left and San returned his gaze to me. “So you even left the Insect running loose?”

I picked at the unraveling seam of a fingerless glove. At this very minute the Insect was probably dining on the Capharnai. “Yes, my lord. We respected the Trisians’ wishes. It’ll be difficult enough to deal with them in future; we didn’t want to exacerbate the crisis still further. Vendace found it easy to reject Mist’s offer, because to the Senate immortality is just a nebulous concept. Half of them don’t believe in it.”