But when Cassanas turned to address Thijs a moment later, she was transformed into the very picture of smiling obsequiousness. Mer Gabrielle is just very tired, replied the old woman. I think thats understandable, given the circumstances, as theres so much to do before we sail for Dios.

Gabrielle forced another smile. Mater Cassanas Edith here shes been fussing over me all morning, havent you? She glanced at her, then turned back to Thijs. Shes so worried about me.

Cassanas nodded robotically, then flashed a sideways glance at Gabrielle that was just a few degrees north of absolute zero.

Enough of this, said Lampard, his eyes studying them both from out of that broad face. His voice had a permanently weary edge, yet carried a lifetimes experience of exerting authority. It was to Lampard here that Karl was expected he had once told her to report on a daily basis concerning her every movement and word. Mer Gabrielle, he continued, if you have any concerns or queries about the Grand Pilgrimage before it begins, it would be best if you voiced them now rather than later. Let us know if theres anything you need, or anything you think might ensure things run as smoothly as they should. This is your moment, after all.

You miserable, lying piece of scum, thought Gabrielle.

Of course, she replied instead, once again summoning up her every element of deceit within her as she met his eyes. I have no special requirements or requests. Perhaps we should waste no more time and just get started.

Lampard smiled tightly and nodded, with a look in his eye that might have meant nothing to Gabrielle if Karl hadnt already described in detail the fate intended for her.

If Thijs should to be the first to die, she decided, then it was only right that Lampard should be second.

THREE

Gabrielle

The day was bright and chill, small airships and null-g platforms floating above Port Gabriels skyline, as Gabrielle and her entourage exited the Peoples Palace. They were protected from the freezing weather and the unbreathable native atmosphere by a containment field that moved along with them, making breather masks or any other kind of respiratory aid unnecessary.

The voices of the choir were amplified across the plaza surrounding the palace as Gabrielle, Thijs, Lampard, Abramovic and an accompanying entourage of nearly a hundred made their way towards a bulk transport waiting just outside the palace gates. Parts of the transports transparent hull had been painted over with broad gold and black stripes. Further away, close to the shores of the Ka River, Gabrielle could see the monument to the Port Gabriel massacre of two centuries before, towering over the surrounding buildings.