“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Was it you who did this?” he asks.
“No.”
“What do you know of those who did?” he asks.
“Volsung Fá, the Obsidian warlord who seems to have united the Ascomanni, coerced the Volk out from under us after killing Sefi on Mars, and now holds Ilium in the palm of his hand.” I pause, then ask, “Anything you can tell me about him?”
Diomedes ignores the question, instead asking, “Why have you not killed me?”
“Should I?”
“We are at war. The purpose of war is to kill your enemies.”
“I’d have thought a Raa would know better,” I say. “You’re wrong on both counts. Were I your enemy, I would be celebrating this attack against the Dominion, as it strengthens Mars’s resistance to the Golds of the Core. I would have left you out floating in the darkness or put a pulseFist to your head and sent you to join Akari in the Void. Problem is, I do not find genocide acceptable, and I have a growing vendetta against the man who carried it out. This Fá.”
“How else?” he asks, catching me off guard.
“I’m sorry?”
“You said I was wrong on both counts about war. How else am I wrong, in your estimation?”
“The point of war is not to kill your enemies, but to come to an acceptable peace while losing as few people as possible.”
Diomedes’s eyes narrow. He says nothing, and I take his silence as a signal to continue.
“I will be blunt. In a few weeks, Volsung Fá will own all the moons of Ilium. You cannot stop him. Your family armies are gone. Your family’s navy is gone. Io has fallen. It was the strongest defensive moon in Ilium. Europa, Callisto, Ganymede, they will all fall one after the other. You can’t protect them. Worse, Fá has the Garter. That means he can wage war on the whole Rim without ever leaving Ilium.”
“We will take it back,” he says, stoic.
“Maybe the Dominion will have enough strength left to reclaim the Garter—if the navies of Uranus, Neptune, and Saturn combine with the Shadow Armada—wherever it is. Maybe. But they’ll take time getting here. And if Fá decides he’s about to lose, what’s to stop him from destroying your ability to grow food, simply out of spite? You cannot fix this on your own.” I lean toward him like a Silver delivering a foreclosure letter. “But, perhaps you are not alone after all.”
Diomedes barks out a laugh that echoes through the vestibule. “I was told you were a trickster. My mother was right. You list my miseries as if you had none of your own. Your home is under attack. We crushed your wife on Phobos and even now, Atalantia is biding her time for a Rain on Mars. You did not come to Ilium to fix this. You came for either ships, men, or both. But whose? The Volk, I’d wager. Trying to bring them back in the fold, are we?”
“Yes, I came for both ships and fighters. But you’re wrong about the source. I am here at the bequest of our mutual acquaintance, Athena.”
At this, Diomedes’s eyebrows shoot up, then settle into a furrow. If he didn’t deduce Aurae was a Daughter already, he knows now.
“Fitting that the terrorists of the Core are seeking out those of the Rim. What help could Athena and her band possibly offer you that would entice you all this way, I wonder.”
“Given the Krypeia among your kin, I’m sure you’re aware of the Dominion’s various missing ships over the last thirty years.” Diomedes gives me no reaction, so I assume I am on the right track. “It is true that the Rim is huge, and that your playthings might get lost in the darkness beyond the shipping lanes. But if I were you, I’d worry more about who is finding those lost toys.”
“Ships then. How many do you think there are?”
“Enough,” I bluff. He would know better than I would. But Athena didn’t just steal ships. She said they were building them too. In truth, I have no idea of the promised fleet’s size or quality. “Enough that we could help turn the tide against Fá. Save the Rim from generational starvation. It’s in all of our interests to do that, and quickly.”
“You are attempting to broker a deal between two parties, neither of whom want the deal to begin with.” His brow furrows. “She is a terrorist. She would call me a slaver, though I am not.”
“Would Aurae call you a slaver?” I ask.
He goes very quiet. “She knows I never thought of her as a slave.”
His tone reveals enough. I almost laugh. Am I the only one not in love with that woman?
“You might not be a slaver like those of the Core, perhaps. But you had Pinks in your house. Didn’t you? Did they have a choice in their vocation? Shall we ask Aurae about her life?” He says nothing.
“Listen, Diomedes. You are right that I am attempting to broker a deal between adversaries, but it is only because I believe a greater adversary threatens all of us.”
“How is Volsung Fá a threat to the Republic?”
My com crackles. “Howler One, we have a confirmed receipt from Athena. We’re to stand by for instructions,” Sevro says.
My heart soars. “You mean she’s still alive?” I say.
“Looks like. Aurae think she has assets on Io still. We’re to stand by for instructions.”
“Report back when you get them.”
“Registers.”
The com clicks off. I sigh in relief. Diomedes is still staring at me. “Where were we?” I ask.
“How is Volsung Fá a threat to the Republic?” he repeats.
“He isn’t,” I say. “He’s already done his damage to us. But the entity pulling his strings is very much a threat. There’s something, or someone, behind this warlord. That is always the enemy you must fear the most. The unseen one who strikes from the shadows.”
Diomedes does not encourage me to continue, but he does not argue. For a flashing second, I see recognition and surprise play out on his otherwise impassive face. He has had these worries himself, it seems.
“Do you believe in magic?” I ask. He looks almost offended. “Clairvoyance?”
“Of course not.”
“So you agree no woman or man can see the future.”
“Are you mocking me? No. Of course not.”
“Good. Because there’s something that’s not been making sense to me.” I rub my hands together hoping to draw him out of his shell. “Something about all this that doesn’t fit. Now, I don’t have all the intel, but Virginia passed me some as we sped past Mars. I got some more from a very rich old friend. And the rest with my own eyes.
“This campaign against Ilium is organized. This is not some raid of opportunity. It couldn’t be. We know that Volsung Fá is a Core-born Obsidian who somehow united the various Ascomanni of the Belt and the Far Ink. You know as well as I that a task of that magnitude would take years. But our Obsidian friend did not stop there: he managed a coup against the recently independent Sefi, and subsequently stole the Volk legions and their navy out from under her. It’s not the theft itself I can’t swallow—Obsidian thrones are often won through bloodshed—it’s the precision with which the theft was carried out.”