Every space that he occupied had to be defended or surrendered.

There was no third choice.

Whenever the fright was its largest—paranoia running wild with every bad dream—the boy would be treated to a keen rush of blood and oxygen, and his hearts felt happy, and his thoughts were slick and sudden, and the great world looked richer and more colorful and small enough to hold in either hand.

If the space beneath him was especially precious, or if he was in a certain mood, King felt gigantic, invulnerable.

Yes, his physical power was a benefit, and so were the armored body and his durability and the endless quick memory. But fear was the richest tool woven through his nature, and that was the emotion that he nourished now.

Today, inside this one recitation, King was straddling the entire world.

Everything was at risk.

Panic, muscular rich panic, made him ready.

His great life had been lived to reach this moment, and how very wonderful it felt to be so afraid.

Stopping at the top of the gangway, Diamond waited for the bodyguards. The longest hallway in the world ended with a tall metal door. Voices came from behind the door, from inside the bridge—men and women making ready to drop anchors and fly away. Then the Archon spoke, and everyone else fell silent. “When do we get home? Before night, or after?”

“As night rises, sir,” said a man.

“I want to see the palace sooner,” the Archon said.

And a different man shouted, “Engines. On.”

The entire ship trembled and began to sway. The crippled bodyguard finished his long miserable climb, slamming a sweaty hand on an important red button, and the gangway hissed and began to rise. Standing on his toes, Diamond caught a last glimpse of his friends and the Master looking up at him, and his Mother mouthed a few words as she waved her hand.

Father was missing.

“Where do we put him?” another bodyguard asked.

“Second suite,” the crippled man said. “You stay with him, always. You? Stand watch outside.”

“Easy work,” the first man joked.

The crippled man stared at him, hard. “You said that this morning. ‘This is baby snaring.’ ”

The floor was vibrating and the walls too. Explosive thuds ripped the anchors from their cables, and water ballast was dropped from a dozen reservoirs, and the long airship began its lazy ascent. Diamond was flanked by two guards, walking in the middle of the long hallway, moving away from the bridge. The ship’s engines grew louder, and he looked up at the faces in profile, and when one man looked down at him, Diamond told him, “You should leave.”

“What?”

“If you can get off this ship, you should.”

“Why are you saying that?”

“I don’t want you to die,” the boy replied.

The men blinked and fell into the same hard laughter.

Every room along the hallway wore a heavy blue door. The first door on the left was marked, “Archon,” and after that was, “Two.” Across the hall was another suite wearing a handwritten sign over its number. “King,” the sign read. The first man unlocked and opened the door to Suite Two and walked inside. The doctor emerged from behind a smaller door farther down the hallway. Hands in his pockets, he called out, “All this is for the best, son.”

Diamond didn’t react.

The guard showed the boy a smile. “Aren’t you going to warn him to jump clear?”

Diamond shook his head. “No.”

Nothing could be funnier. Both men laughed as Diamond walked through the open door, and then the man who came inside with him shut the blue door, turning two locks. Diamond examined the enormous room, the heavy furniture and big bowls of fancy glass, corona bones and scales embellishing everything. Dark dead wood had been carved by trained hands. The tanned hides of special animals had been stretched across pieces of open floor. He couldn’t imagine the wealth poured into this space, and the prestige was beyond his imagination. But the high ceiling was impressive, as was the entire outer wall made from glass windows, thick and sealed.

He walked toward the windows but stopped short.

Something was wrong.

The inside man was standing beside the locked door with his arms at his side, watching nothing but that odd little boy who couldn’t be worth half this trouble.

“Who else is here?” Diamond asked.

“Nobody.”

Diamond tipped his head, listening. But the huge engines were roaring, accelerating them into a long turn that would carry them farther over the reef before they could start for home. He heard nothing but the rumbling, and maybe he was wrong. Maybe. But a deep breath caught a familiar scent, and stepping toward the man, Diamond asked, “Where’s King?”

“Sitting in his big chair,” the guard said, grinning. Then he looked from side to side, asking, “Why?”

Several closed doors led to smaller rooms. One door exploded to slivers, and already running, King ran straight for the guard. No sound accompanied the creature. Two long strides and he lifted his arm, and the guard turned, reaching for the locks on the suite door. He barely touched one knob when King reached him, and the man started to yell, dipping his head while putting up his other hand to protect what couldn’t be protected. The armored fist struck him at the back of the skull, and King’s other hand came up under the chin and yanked back hard, and a man who was bigger and trained to fight was suddenly limp and empty-eyed, lying on a fancy carpet made from the weavings of a spider that lived only in the darkness at the top of the world.

“Is he dead?” Diamond asked.

“Or alive,” said King. “Either way, he won’t help you.”

Diamond looked at the alien face. It wasn’t as strange as before. He expected two mouths and the odd eyes and that living armor shrouding what wasn’t at all human.

The airship was finishing its turn, the engines no longer pushing hard.

King approached.

Diamond didn’t move.

“They’ll discover that I’m missing,” King said. “And my father’s going to know where I went.”

The human boy put his feet apart. “The Archon is your father?”

“Sure.”

Diamond nodded.

“But you’re not his son,” King said.

The human kept nodding.

“Do you know what I’m telling you? Can you understand me?”

Diamond was barely listening. He was full of questions, and the first question to jump out was, “Do you remember things from before?”

“Before what?”

What did he mean exactly?

“You mean back when we sitting inside that monster?”

Diamond shook his head. “No. Before the corona. Do you remember any of that earlier life?”

The armored boy stared at him. The eating mouth spat, and then the other mouth said, “You’re crazy.”

“Maybe I am. How would I know?”

“What do you remember?”

“A woman, a human woman. And there was a man too. They were like me, and there were a lot of people like me.”

“You recall this?” King said doubtfully.

“I think so.” Diamond nodded, looking at his feet.

“There is no ‘before,’ ” King said. “Do you know what we are?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll tell you.”

“All right,” said Diamond.

“Build anything—put together a ship or house or anything—and there’s always pieces left behind,” King said. “That’s what you and I are. Leftovers. The Creators made us along with the world, and we were extra pieces. They let our bodies fall down near the sun where we got eaten, and we’ve been waiting all of this time, waiting for our chance.”

“Who says that?”

“My father knows it.”

Diamond studied the scaled chest and broad arms and then a face that was more familiar each time he looked at it. “I don’t think the Archon’s right.”

With a quick trained motion, King punched with his left fist. Diamond felt the blow and dropped to the floor, the breath beaten from behind his ribs.

“My father is very, very smart,” King said.