“This is promising, Delta of Dead River,” the Prime says evenly. “The stars are aligning, the pieces sliding into place. This is the closest I’ve ever felt to being ready to attack him. But even with the mag-rifles and a wind wagon fleet, there is still the issue of his dam wall—breeching it, accessing Bedrock itself . . .”

“The blast barrels will breech the wall,” the Reaper offers. “We can mount them on the wind wagons, fire as we approach.”

“Yes,” the Chemist says, tapping her fingers against the table. “We have enough black powder to do it. It should work.”

“Is this the prototype?” I ask. “It’s finished?”

“You’ve been gone a full moon, Delta,” the Prime says. “We’ve made progress.”

“What is it? What can it do?”

“A blast barrel,” she says, “is like the barrel of a rifle, but much larger, and able to fire projectiles much larger, too. We’ve been filing rocks into balls since the Trinity began work on the first prototype.”

“We haven’t tested them on something like the General’s defenses,” the Reaper says, “but I believe they will breach the wall.”

The Prime nods in agreement. “Still, the Loyalists will have the high ground until the dam falls, plus their catapults.”

“Catapults?” I echo.

“Weapons that can launch a projectile over great distances without gunpowder,” the Reaper interjects. “They’re positioned along his outer dam. A swinging arm launches the payload.”

I saw these during my time in Bedrock, and was right to assume they provided defense.

“Even with the mag-rifles, we will not have the advantage until we’ve infiltrated Bedrock,” the Prime continues. “And by then the General will have armed everyone, even his ilked-up workers, who will do anything he commands for another drink of water. We need to render his weapons useless.”

“Which is why I thought we should give him the mag-rifles and attack during a storm,” I mutter.

“His weapons can still fail him,” the Prime says. “It’s just a matter of doing what we already tried once, several years ago.” Her gaze slides to Reed, and his eyes widen.

“The powder?” he whispers.

“Yes. If we blow his stored powder, the Loyalists will only be able to fire on us so long as their powder horns are full. Once they’ve used what’s on their persons, they’ll be powerless.”

“No disrespect, my Prime, but you couldn’t blow his stores years ago, when you stood right beside them,” the Reaper says.

“I didn’t have an inside man then.” The Prime keeps her gaze rooted on Reed. “Are you truly on our side?”

“Yes,” he says without hesitation. “Absolutely.”

“Could you go back there and blow the powder on a decided date? Is there a story you could weave so that you’re welcomed home without suspicion?”

“I’m sure we can think of something.”