“So did Gideon, I gather.”
Then Palamedes looked very serious, and his face moved as though he were about to say something when there was a knock at the meeting-room door. He said quickly, “Tell Cam she and I need to talk as soon as humanly possible. I will get back to you—you’re not going to die on our watch. I haven’t been able to save many people in my life, I’m afraid, but I am intent on saving you.”
Nona did not want to lie to Palamedes, which was why she was grateful that the eyes whitened to that clear glassy grey that meant Camilla, blinking hard a few times to get her bearings. The door knocked again and Nona said automatically, “Come in.”
The door opened, and someone walked in; an elegant middle-aged person with shadowy eyes. They were wearing no mask and no goggles and no hood, and their hair was pinned up in a neat roll atop their head and wrapped in a brief scarf with a blue stripe pattern. They carried a little suitcase in one hand and two bottles of water cunningly gripped in the other, and they crossed to sit in the seat We Suffer usually sat in, and got comfortable taking things out of the little suitcase—paper, clipboards, electronic equipment, pens. When they tilted their head quizzically at Nona, she realised with a start that it was We Suffer—We Suffer with no mask and a naked face, for the first time that Nona had ever seen her.
“Do I surprise you, Nona?” she asked, quite nicely. “We are beyond the cell disguises now, are we not? They are useful, but only to a point. I do not think you are capable of being tortured for my face.”
“Why was I tied up?” demanded Nona. “Why did you cuff Camilla? Why did you shoot us? Where’s the Angel? Have you found Pyrrha?”
“A comedy of errors. I apologise,” said We Suffer. Nona noticed that the light on Suffer’s hair made it quite a nice chestnut colour, like rich mouse. She was probably quite a bit older than Pyrrha, with strongly marked features and an aristocratic, slightly hooked nose, and her face was marked with lines that showed even beneath a light layer of powder and makeup. If Nona had been in less of a woozy mood she might have thought her pretty, but nothing was pretty at that moment.
We Suffer added, “I understand the bonds may seem unfair. But please keep in mind that you gave to my people a very great shock, and since you were the scariest thing I have nearly ever seen in all my days, that should not come as a big surprise.”
Nona was doubtful. “I suppose I’m sorry,” she said, “only I don’t think you’re sorry for locking up me and Camilla.”
“Do not bother with sorry. We are also impressed, in our own way. I mean, now most people will not agree to be in the same room as you. That is fine. We do not need them. Hect, as I told you last night, this has not been all for naught … Pash has admitted to having recently liquidated a big unit of Merv Wing. That is fine. Unjust Hope has not made a huge deal out of it. That was always his way, despite the losses. He will want to keep this quiet for a while … Usually you both meeting up with the Messenger, whom you call the Angel, would have been very bad, but I think we may actually survive it. They were unharmed by the experience. I do not think we need to register Pash discharging a weapon in front of them quite yet, though when we do we may all be hauled in front of a firing squad … We are riding the wave. Let us see where it takes us. And whatever the case, Nona, you were impressive … Blood of Eden is quite impressed by blood and guts.”
Most of this went over Nona’s head.
“You’re not answering my questions at all,” she said fretfully. “Who is the Angel, I mean, the Messenger?”
“That is above your pay grade,” said We Suffer.
“You don’t pay us,” said Camilla.
“Yes. My little joke,” explained We Suffer. “All you need to know is that they are the one with the little arboreal dog who is elderly. That is enough to know.”
Nona said, “Is the Angel—important?”
“The Angel is Blood of Eden,” said We Suffer, but did not elaborate with anything other than, “In hindsight, not a good idea to keep the Angel anywhere near the place we were keeping you, even in the same city. The problem with putting all of your eggs in one basket is there is such a mess when somebody sits on that basket. But how could we know any of this would happen? In any case, we are back. They have placed me in charge of the next move, and Unjust Hope has been bumped to the very backmost seat … for now.”
Camilla said, “Which means what?”