Another soldier, a female with a similar rounded build, joined her at the window and said, “Hello.”

Voices could be difficult, but human voices weren’t the hardest noises to mimic.

“Hello,” Quest said.

Then she turned her head, looking back beneath the forest. In the late day sunlight, very little was understood. A couple orange flickers might mark wildfires, or maybe they showed fighting on the ever-shifting front. Questions needed to be asked, but soldiers weren’t supposed to exchange information too freely. How could she phrase her curiosity and not end up in a wild chase?

Then the strange woman said, “And now I have seen everything.”

She was looking down.

Quest followed the gaze with eyes that only looked human. The last light in the world rose up into her head and her mind, and she didn’t understand what she was seeing. What was there was obvious enough, yes. But what were they doing?

With her new mouth, Quest asked, “What do they want?”

“A spectacular question,” said her new friend.

Above the demon floor, floating or flying back and forth, were thousands of coronas. There were small coronas and giants and even another one of the dark ancient creatures like the one that had given birth to her.

“They’re doing nothing but watching us,” the woman said. “That’s as simple and true as any explanation I can think of.”

Countless necks were twisting, heads lifting, eyes fixed on the forest above.

“They know our hunters aren’t flying,” the woman said. “They’re safe, and a war is underway.”

“You’re right,” said Quest. “To the coronas, this must be a very beautiful evening.”

The room belonged to no one. That point was made by several people, first and last by the Archon. The palace had many unoccupied rooms, but the voices claimed that this was one of the finest rooms, claimed or unclaimed, and there was an implication in those statements—a reason for celebration and importance, or at least some careful pride.

Diamond felt none of that.

After so much, Diamond sensed no emotion as he was shown the room. But the space was enormous. Every wall was distant, and even though the day had been finished for a long while now, the ceiling was filled with lights that hummed and glowed, working as hard as possible to make every bare surface shine.

Good walked to the middle of the room, looking hard for one thing.

“Where’s the toilet?” Diamond asked.

List wasn’t sure. He had to open three tall doors before he found the proper little room. But the bath was little only compared to this huge bright unclaimed empire of light and walls and curtain-covered windows.

Diamond expected to be left alone at any time.

But the Archon of Archons wasn’t leaving. In fact, he was staring hard at the boy, with energy and the strangest joy that the man had ever displayed. On arriving at the palace, several aides had taken List aside. Diamond assumed that there was another meeting about the war or the Eight or an equally massive topic. But since then that odd encounter, the man had been nursing a smile that didn’t seem to fit his face.

Diamond looked at the distant bed and the furnishings and the bookshelves that were covered with volumes but still looked only half-filled.

The Archon stepped closer.

From the bathroom came the sound of water running, in the toilet and then in the sink, and again in the toilet.

“I have news,” the Archon said.

Diamond wanted him to leave.

“I want to show you something, Diamond.”

The monkey emerged from the bathroom soaking wet. In one hand was a bar of perfumed soap, and with great precision, Good heaved the soap at the nearest light, glass shattering, glittering shards raining down.

Not even that violence bothered the smiling man.

Diamond followed List, turning off the lights on the wall switch as he left, telling the monkey, “Make a nest.”

Good looked at him.

“Boy,” he said.

Diamond stopped. “What?”

“I forget the sack,” Good said. “I forget you putting me in the sack.”

Diamond nodded.

“I forgive you,” the monkey claimed.

Diamond made himself walk. He was heavy and cold and too tired to ever sleep again. The hallway was wider than most rooms, and nobody else was in sight. As they walked, the Archon said something about leaving behind orders, instructions. “On the faint hope of good news,” he said.

The boy barely listened.

“A lot of things can’t be controlled,” said the man. “An Archon during war doesn’t have the same powers as in peace, no. But I promise you: I will protect the people that you want me to protect, as much as I can protect them, and I will keep you safe. And in return, I want and deserve your cooperation too. This will be a partnership, an alliance. Do you know what I mean?”

Diamond wanted to be alone in a tiny room.

But List drifted nearer, and then he almost giggled.

“Refugees,” he said.

What?

“It was chaos during that first attack,” the Archon said. “Nobody was ready. A lot of civilian ships were pressed into rescue work. And then in the madness, people were carried to unexpected places. Some of these refugees were injured. Maybe they weren’t able to identify themselves quickly enough. But everybody received medical care, and someone happened to recognize an important face under the bandages.”

Diamond glanced at his ally, in profile.

“I left here with the fleet, and I left orders behind,” said the Archon. “Without my knowledge, a certain woman was brought here by a special flight, on my personal authorization, to receive the finest care available anywhere. Anywhere.”

They were walking, and then Diamond had stopped.

List found himself standing alone. His smile grew and he turned, and he winked, which was a decidedly unnatural gesture for the man. Then he came back to say, “She’s resting comfortably inside my small, excellent clinic. I’m afraid that she’s sleeping now, what with the sedatives helping her deal with the pains . . . ”

The boy bolted down the hallway.

List couldn’t match that speed, but he was happy to shout a last few directions.

Despite the warning, Haddi was awake and alert enough to recognize her son, turning her body on the mattress and reaching for him with the hand that wasn’t buried inside a cast.

She said his name.

He stopped short of the bed.

She said, “You don’t know how good it is, seeing you alive.”

Diamond kneeled down. She couldn’t reach him, and he couldn’t touch her. Then from the floor he spoke with a steady flat voice, not crying, never crying, trying his best to explain just how wicked one boy could be.

END BOOK TWO

BOOK THREE

THE GREAT DAY

PROLOGUE

She calls to her scions.

The children.

Her faded radiance and the divine, diminished music are still capable of saying quite a lot, including, “Let me see nothing but you.”

This has always been a dramatic soul, certainly more public and passionate than the other Firsts. But the young ones do love her, or at least they love the idea that any meat and mind can be older than the world. Of course they obey, setting their lives aside the next little while. She waits inside the jungle, inside a bubble of still air. That is where they gather, pressing against one another. Firsts and their eldest children hang nearest the sun, while all others form the bulk of the magnificent sphere. The center belongs to her alone: a creature more female than male, softened by time and scarred by time and smelling of death. Heads are feeble, tooth-poor and half-blind. Flesh is drained, blood gray and bone frail. But she is the First among Firsts, the core from which all have risen. Her soul has always been strong and will remain strong forever, her wise voices filling this small good world with courage and rare wisdom.