Torec whispered to Pirius, “What Secret Archive? I don’t like this talk.”

“Nor me.”

Pila, Gramm’s advisor, had been showing increasing irritation. Now she seemed to lose patience. “Why are we listening to this heretical nonsense? What hold does this woman have over us, Minister?”

Luru Parz smiled. “Why don’t you tell her, Gramm?”

Gramm looked thunderous, but didn’t reply.

Luru said evenly, “Oh, I’m just another of the Coalition’s little secrets. Just another Doctrinal violation, tolerated because I am useful. I’ve had an uneasy, ah, working relationship with Gramm for many years, and his predecessors, long before him. Before that—well, my life has sometimes been complicated. But things are civilized these days. The Coalition tolerates our research, here on Port Sol, as long as we share the results. Of course, it could destroy us at any time. But on the other hand I could do a great deal of harm to the Coalition.” She opened her mouth wide, showing blackened teeth.

Nilis suddenly seemed to understand. His jaw dropped, and he gulped before he could speak again. “All this talk of the depths of time . . . Port Sol always was a notorious den of jasoft refugees. And they weren’t all cleared out, were they? And you are one of them, Luru Parz. You are a jasoft.”

Pila flinched, as if she had been struck; her bland, pretty face curled in disgust, the strongest expression Pirius had ever seen her show. Nilis merely stared, utterly fascinated, his intellect overriding his emotions, as it did so often.

Pirius was stunned. He stared at Faya, who had conducted them around the Pit. Was she an ancient too? She had talked of dancing among the floating palaces of Port Sol—but the ice moon had been all but abandoned for twenty thousand years. Was it possible it wasn’t just a dream?

Torec’s hand slipped into his. In this cold place, far from home, surrounded by so many gruesome secrets, the touch of warm flesh was comforting.

Pila turned on her superior. She seemed more upset by the violation of orthodoxy than by the cold biological reality of the jasofts. “Minister, if this is true—why are these monstrosities tolerated?”

Gramm said nothing, his round face crimson.

Luru said, “Well, I’m useful, you see. And I know too much to be dispensed with. Don’t I, Gramm?”

“You old witch,” Gramm said tightly.

“Witch? If so, I brought you here to remind you of my spell,” she said, her tone dark.

Gramm glared. But it was clear he had no choice but to give her what she wanted.

When the meeting broke up, Torec approached Luru. She was clearly fascinated.

“But how do you live?”