“You underestimate us. Abandoning check and balance, Ctesiphon may be ready in six.”
“Okay, sure. Make it six. But we can do it in half an hour, allowing for traffic. Pyrrha’s already inside, and by the sound of it, Ianthe gave us a gift-wrapped excuse to send Camilla in as well. We can blindside Ianthe, put the body in a sack, and get you everything Commander Wake ever wanted. But you owe us the Sixth House. Shit, my time’s nearly up. Nona, tell Camilla everything, okay?”
“I want to go to the barracks too,” said Nona. “I can help.”
“That’s—well, we can talk about that,” he said. “Commander, please do the right thing. Blood of Eden went back on its word. Despite that, you can get the Tomb and your honour, and all you have to do is trust a couple of zombies.”
Then Camilla flopped forward a little in her seat, like she’d almost fallen asleep and caught herself at the last second. She sat up and looked at Nona.
“Palamedes told We Suffer everything about Ianthe and Lyctors,” Nona said.
“I don’t know why I bother,” said Camilla, to herself. Then she blinked several times and shook her head.
“This was not a shadow-play, was it?” said We Suffer. She looked … peaceful, almost, as if she’d been worrying about whether something bad would happen and then had been told it was definitely happening. “This … possession. This spirit-swapping. It is a genuine occurrence.”
“Yes.”
“You are not some virtuoso actor. I spoke with Palamedes Sextus … and Palamedes Sextus died at Canaan House.”
Camilla said heavily, “Yes.”
We Suffer said, “I cannot give up the location of the Sixth House. Yet,” she said, holding up one hand, as Camilla’s mouth hardened. “Yet. Hect, what you must understand about Blood of Eden is that we own things in common, we share responsibilities and resources in common. She could have moved these resources at will”—a head-tilt to the dusty portrait of the big redheaded lady with the chilly eyes—“but I must make one move at a time. And above all, I must place the safety of … Blood of Eden’s continuity … even above the mission.”
Camilla said, “Tell me you know where the Oversight Body is.”
“I know enough, and more than Unjust Hope wants me to,” said We Suffer.
“Tell me they’re alive,” said Camilla.
“I think they are.”
Camilla leant forward a little in her chair. Her fringe fell in her eyes. Nona felt as though they should have known better, and moved haircut day ahead.
Camilla said, “I’ll try to get Gideon Nav’s body. You’ll give me the info.”
We Suffer’s expression softened a little. The fine lines around her eyes bunched and relaxed.
“I am grateful you are willing to deal. I say, Done.”
“I said try.”
“Palamedes Sextus thought you could.”
Camilla’s mouth quirked minutely. “We have no info. I don’t know the first thing about where Tridentarius is keeping it. I have no idea what she can do. We can’t hold off a Lyctor for long. I need intel.”
“We will assist in any way we can.”
“We’ll want the shuttle too.”
We Suffer did not miss a beat. “With stipulations.”
Camilla did not say anything, and Nona got more and more embarrassed by the silence, so she said: “My friend had stipulations once, but the teacher put a cream on it.”
“Thank you, Nona,” said We Suffer, very kindly, and Nona felt pleased. Then she looked back to Camilla and said, “If you find a way off-world … I would like you to take a package with you.”
Camilla raised her eyebrows. “Where?”
“Anywhere, away from here,” said We Suffer.
“We don’t carry metaphors,” said Camilla. “You’ve asked too much already.”
We Suffer sat back in her seat. She was looking at a patch of wall a few inches above Camilla’s head.
“Let us suppose—” she began, and then there was a soft pop from the audio speaker and a sharp clack that made everyone jump. The clack was quickly followed by a heavier clunk, and a rustle, and then Pyrrha’s voice said from a distance— “She’s alive.”
And Crown’s voice said, closer— “Good … for you, I mean.”
Camilla had immediately jumped up, grimacing a little, and retrieved a sheet of paper and a pen. She pressed it up against the wall and started scribbling. Pyrrha’s voice, still dead and tense, said, “Threats?”