Ysbel told him to be quiet, said to Goodwill, ‘Sometimes she takes an interest in our affairs. She heard about the map, and would like to know more about it. The problem is, other people found out about her interest and think they can profit from it. The people who brought you to the station, rivals of theirs … When I found out what they had done, I had Zaquil call away your guard and make this connection. He arranged your ride to the airfield, too. We’ll meet there and discuss what to do next.’

‘And you, Ysbel Moonsdaughter. How are you different from these other people?’

‘You hoped you could trust me. And I hope that I can earn that trust. I wanted to help you before Mother stepped in, and I want to help you now.’

‘I will meet you at the airfield. And we will talk more.’

‘Yes, we will.’

Ysbel watched as Goodwill walked out of the room and followed the long curve of a corridor to a lobby, the viewpoint shifting as Zaquil commandeered a series of bots and cameras. Goodwill talked briefly to two men in the lobby, stepped around them and walked outside into rain seething across the roadway and dancing on the yellow shell of the runabout as its door swung up. Goodwill clambered inside, the runabout began to move off before its door had closed, and the window blanked.

Zaquil was saying that the station had tried to send bots after the runabout, but he had dealt with them, and Goodwill appeared to be enjoying the ride.

‘The people who brought him in will guess where he is going,’ Ysbel said. ‘Keep him safe until I get there.’

The hopper landed in a far corner of Concord’s airfield thirty minutes later. Ysbel had left the west coast first thing in the morning, and although it had taken only two hours to cross the continent the time difference between the coasts meant that it was early in the afternoon in the Union’s capital. Two runabouts, one yellow, one green, were waiting in warm rain that fell steadily from a low ceiling of cloud. As Ysbel came down the hopper’s steep steps, the door of the yellow runabout swung up, revealing Goodwill nested inside. A woman and two men wearing rain slickers stood beside the other runabout, the woman coming forward to meet Ysbel, telling her that she’d made a mistake, but it wasn’t too late to fix it.

She was the station chief, a sturdy middle-aged woman with a pugnacious face, bareheaded in the rain.

‘What needed fixing is fixed,’ Ysbel said, trying to project a confidence she didn’t feel. ‘Mother will be displeased if you try to meddle again.’

‘I looked up your record, Ysbel Moonsdaughter. I fear that you won’t be able to stand up to the embassy, even with the aid of the little helper that hacked our security system.’