“We’ve questioned the perpetrators. They came to liberate Alyssa, not realizing we’d already moved her here. So we’ve captured more of her network.”

The king didn’t look up. Saori seemed puzzled by his lack of reaction but didn’t say anything.

“Yeah,” the king said finally. “Good.” He was far from sure that this was the real problem, or if it was a problem at all. What Alyssa had said to him just before she died was true. There was a spaceship called the Mull of Kintyre and his name was Steve.

“Two of them are quite high-ranking citizens,” Saori went on, trying to prompt more of a response. “An architect and teacher called Iona Taylor, and a policymaker in the planning department called Victor Musa.”

The king looked up. “I know those names.”

“You might have met them.”

“I think I have.”

“In the course of business.”

“Maybe.” But the king knew the names were familiar for other reasons.

The king walked past Saori, toward the door. “Well done,” he said over his shoulder.

“What do you want done with them?”

“Nothing.” He was almost through the doorway now.

“What do you mean, nothing?”

“I mean nothing,” snapped the king, turning back to her. “Just keep them where they are and . . .” He waved an arm. “Await my instructions, alright? And no I don’t know when I’ll have instructions so just wait—”

The king stopped talking. For several moments he just stared at Saori as though seeing her for the first time. Then he said in a quiet voice: “Were you on the ship?” They were alone in the room but he was worried someone—he didn’t know who, but someone—might be listening.

“What ship?” said Saori. It wasn’t a word anyone in the city ever used. The king didn’t know where he’d learned it. But as Saori repeated it back to him the king noticed she hadn’t asked, What is a ship? She’d simply asked, What ship?

“The spaceship,” the king replied, modifying the rootless word to produce another one. “It was called the Mull of Kintyre. Were you on it?”

Saori didn’t reply. The king took her frozen expression for incomprehension.

“Never mind,” he said and stormed out of the Point, hoping Saori wouldn’t tell anyone he’d gone weird on her.

* * *

Iona had not been allowed to sleep before being removed from the cell she and Victor had been shut in. They’d put her in another room and questioned her. Standard tactic, get people when they were tired and they let things slip they otherwise wouldn’t. It didn’t matter anyway—their citizen army answered every question they were asked truthfully, as Victor hadn’t been able to include anything as sophisticated as deception in his program. So their entire plan had been laid bare.

Now Iona had been placed in a new cell and though she was allowed to sleep she couldn’t, despite exhaustion. Anxiety gnawed at her—fears about what had happened to Alyssa, about what would happen to her and Victor, about whether the Poramutantur would now get out. She wondered how close the citizens were to cracking the lock.