“The sync is two halves,” Oma said, placing her hands together to illustrate. “The remnants have a dual nature, and to make architects and readers in the first place, we—well, the history of the research is complicated, but essentially the original researchers split that nature into controlling and observing. Then the observing side, the reading, was considered too dangerous—it was political—so after the first batches, only architects were made. A sync reunites the two halves in a one-to-one relationship. With the influence of a remnant, you can force a sync into a one-to-many relationship instead. Like a broadcast connecting to many receivers.”

Tennal looked her in the face. “Is this what you’re planning to do to me?”

Oma suddenly looked very like his aunt. “No,” she said, with testy patience. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have explained it. I would like you as an ally, Tennalhin, and you have no need to worry about this. You’re a reader, and besides, you’re already in a sync.”

So whatever brainwashing Oma was doing, it wouldn’t work on readers, and it wouldn’t work on people who were synced. Surit was safe as long as she didn’t notice. Nobody else Tennal cared about was anywhere near Oma.

“Shall we talk about you?” Oma said.

Tennal hesitated. There were still a dozen questions queued in his throat, including why did you suddenly need a thousand more remnants? and what are you planning? But the way Oma said it—steely, pleasant—made it quite clear she had finished answering. That wasn’t an invitation that came with a no. Tennal gave her a bright smile and sat in a chair in front of her desk. “My favorite topic. May I say something?”

“Go ahead.”

“I don’t really care what you’re doing,” Tennal said. “I’m a very selfish person. Sue me. I just want to escape the army.” He tried to keep his voice sincere. It helped that it was true—Tennal was as selfish as they came—but she didn’t need to know Tennal could pass what he knew on to Surit, who could decide what to do with all this. This kind of division warfare needed someone responsible to know about it, and Lights knew that wouldn’t be Tennal. He was going to be out of here. “And my trial period is over the day after tomorrow. We had a deal.”

“We did,” Oma agreed. “And I thought your trial period was very successful. You’re a highly competent officer. A shame your aunt never gave you a chance to be one.”

Surit was a highly competent officer. Tennal was just good at taking credit. “You don’t need more competent officers. You don’t need me. I’ll only complicate whatever argument you’re having with my aunt. Let Surit go, and I’ll be through the link and out of your hair.”