Commander of Shoals tapped two steel-tipped manipulators together and a small ball of light appeared between them. Shoal glyphs flickered rapidly before finally freezing in place. The Commander read what was there, before dismissing the projection after several moments.

‘Remarkable,’ said Commander-of-Shoals, the twist of his manipulators indicating he was impressed. ‘A solution of quite stunning elegance.’

‘Based on my own findings, the Mos Hadroch takes advantage of certain flaws in the design of the caches seeded by the Maker swarm. If anything, the existence of such flaws tells us that whatever beings created the swarm were rather less godlike than the Magi believed them to be.’

‘This is a tremendous achievement, Trader. Yet I can’t help feeling that recent events have failed to bring you the humility you claim to value.’

‘I’m not interested in your petty character judgements,’ Trader snapped. ‘Do you accept my terms? I will find the Mos Hadroch, rid us of the Emissaries, and bring this war to an end.’

‘Have you considered that it might be easier for me to simply hand you over to my interrogators and have them extract the information from you?’

‘I have considered it, Commander, and you do indeed have that option, if you wish to see the finer details of your own illegal subterfuge become immediate public knowledge throughout the length and breadth of the Hegemony. If I were not to have taken such precautions, I would not deserve the reputation I have.’

‘Then on behalf of the Hegemony, I see that I have no choice but to accept your terms.’

‘And . . . ?’

Commander-of-Shoals’s manipulators signalled defeat. ‘And if you succeed, we will reinstate you to your former position within the Hegemony, with full resumption of special rights and privileges. But let me be clear that there are many within the upper ranks of the Hegemony who would be more than happy to see you die in this attempt.’

‘Then I shall take added pleasure in my triumphant return. Now, there were certain other matters contained within my terms . . .’

‘Ah, yes, a fleet of your own, and the capture of the monster you created out of Learner-of-Secrets. Neither, I fear, will be possible.’

‘These are fundamental requirements,’ Trader responded angrily. ‘That. . . creature has chased me across the entire face of this galaxy. Wherever I flee, he manages to find me. And without a fleet of my own, my chances of success are severely reduced. Surely you can—?’

‘No, Trader, I cannot,’ Commander-of-Shoals replied coolly. ‘I will, however, supply you with his current location. That may give you some small advantage, whether you choose to confront or escape him. He calls himself by a human name these days, doesn’t he? Hugh Moss?’