‘I’ve heard stories about something similar. But they are only stories.’ Ysbel was thinking of Originists and their crazy theories. The possibility that some of them might have been involved in the camp, and the treatment and education of Seven and his brothers and sisters. She said, ‘Do you remember the name of this fellow? When did he visit you?’

‘Ten, maybe eleven years ago. And if I ever knew his name I don’t recall it.’

‘And it was definitely before the camp was built,’ Ysbel said, wondering if the man had been checking likely sites.

‘I don’t know if he had anything to do with the camp or not. Nor do I care. The point being, as my mother put it, doesn’t matter if that story about sky people is true or not. It’s a sign of a deeper truth you don’t want to admit about yourselves. That you aren’t any better than us, and your Mother isn’t any better than ours. You talk about harmony, but it’s only talk,’ the arbiter said. ‘Because you treat us like pups, ignore custom and law, and work against the Mother’s will.’

It was unclear if she was talking about Ysbel, the Special Operations agents, the people involved with the camp and the articulate bears or all of humanity. Perhaps, as far as she was concerned, the distinction didn’t matter. She used her staff to lever herself to her feet and Ysbel took a step back, aware that the crew around the fire were standing up too.

‘You came here uninvited, asking the same questions your friends asked,’ the arbiter told her. ‘Expecting us to bow down to you, suggesting we’re somehow to share the blame for what went on in that camp. Let me tell you that you aren’t any better than us and you aren’t wanted here. Leave now, of your own free will, or we’ll make you leave.’

The crew around the fire, and the pups and striplings beyond, took up the chant. ‘Leave! Leave now!’

‘I’m grateful for your candour,’ Ysbel said, and took another step backwards and pressed her hands to her chest, but the arbiter refused to acknowledge the gesture.