Rhita thought about the chamberlain, the armorer, the Aithiopian guards, and the ceremony she had been made to witness. Somehow, it all made a little more sense. She turned off the slate, grateful to the sophē for her foresight—and insight. But her teeth still chattered, and sleep was not easy to find.

Planning for the expedition to the site in Nordic Rhus began the next morning, in secret. The pace of the next two days was dizzying; the queen and her advisors seemed to be racing against time to get their preparations made, and Rhita was soon made privy to the reason for speed and discretion.

Kleopatra had once, decades before, controlled most matters involving exploration and research in the Oikoumenē. She had assumed this royal prerogative in her youth, even before the influence of the Boulē had waned and Kleopatra had gathered more and more power to the Ptolemaic Dynasty and away from the Alexandreian and Kanopic aristocracies.

“Your grandmother cost me dearly when her gates wandered and vanished,” Kleopatra said, lips twisted in a wry smile. She shuddered and dismissed the past with her hand. “But the aristoi have been getting into a fair amount of trouble lately. Farmer and kleroukhos revolts, conscription failure in the Kypros crisis…They’ve been in hiding for the past few months, letting me take the fall, and that gives me some room to breathe. If I breathe secretly. Secrets don’t last long in Alexandreia. I have to have this expedition outfitted, and on its way, within five or six days, or chances are it’ll be stopped by the Boulē Royal Counselor.”

Kleopatra introduced her to a trusted advisor, Oresias, an explorer and expert on the Nordic Rhus who had a fierce loyalty to Kleopatra. Oresias was tall and lean, of late middle age, strong and aquiline and white-haired; centuries past, he might have been one of Alexandros’s generals. With his help, Rhita hastily prepared a list of supplies and people necessary to the expedition. On something more than whim, she included the name of Demetrios, though they still had not met; she thought she might enjoy the company of a fellow mathematician.

Oresias consulted with another trusted advisor, Jamal Atta, a short, black-haired man, retired general of the Oikoumenē Overland Security Forces. Jamal Atta was of Berber ancestry, but affected the style of an old Persian soldier. Together, they plotted the difficulties and dangers of entering unfriendly territory.

Rhita thought about the long journey to Nordic Rhus with no small amount of trepidation. As Oresias spread the plans before her on a cards-and-jackals table in the royal game room, his strong, badly-scarred index finger tracing the likeliest routes, she wondered what the queen’s motivations really were. Had Patrikia read Kleopatra’s intentions truly?