The king had filled the time by personally thanking the citizens who had caught Ward and his accomplice and telling their superiors they should be given an official commendation. On discovering the bureau had no system of commendations he had invented one and ordered some special badges to be designed. He’d then had some dinner sent over, which he had eaten alone in an unoccupied office, and after that held discussions with bureau staff about how they could crack down on this sort of extremism and improve security for law-abiding citizens.

Eventually, at long last, he’d been told he could speak to Ward.

Ward was in restraints because he’d tried to escape. It occurred to the king that he could just go over there and give Ward a kicking. He doubted anyone would stop him or protest. But the king hadn’t come here for revenge, he’d come for a confrontation. In this sense it was lucky that Ward had come back from seemingly being dead, although the king was puzzled and disturbed that this had come to pass.

Ward stared back at the king. He hadn’t reacted to the king’s entrance at all. You’d think coming face-to-face with the man you clubbed down in the street would provoke some reaction—fear, hate, contrition, satisfaction maybe? He’d shown nothing.

“You’re probably wondering why I’m here,” said the king.

Ward didn’t speak.

“I just want to know why you did it,” the king went on. “Was it personal? Do you hate me? Did you want to hurt me? Kill me? Or were you just trying to make a point?”

Still no reaction.

“I don’t care if you tell me or not. I just wanted to ask, you know. If you had a point, I thought . . .” The king was finding it hard to keep on track while getting no reaction. “Because you know, if there was no point, why do it?”

The citizen stared straight ahead. Possibly at the king, possibly past him.

The king tapped his foot, then leaned forward. “Did I do something to you? How can I have? I never do anything.” A new thought occurred. “Is it something I didn’t do? That’s it, isn’t it?”

The king stood up, paced around a bit, and then kicked the leg of the table, causing the table to jump.

Ward didn’t flinch.

“Tell me!” said the king, gripping the back of his chair. Ward might as well have stayed dead for all the good this was doing. The king felt like flinging the chair across the room—

But then he stopped. This guy was nothing. Literally nothing. The king resolved not to let him affect his decisions or actions or mood in any way.

“Fine,” the king said, striding back toward the door. “If you’ve nothing to say, I’ll tell them they can burn you.”

As he left the room he glanced back, looking in vain for any sign he’d reached Ward at all.

* * *

Victor had drawn up a set of plans for Iona to use, pointing out it was no different from what she’d done to Carter, it just involved putting the switches into different positions. This may have been true but it didn’t mean she felt any more at ease with reprogramming beings who, until this morning, she had regarded as people just like herself. She had no time to indulge such qualms, however.