“Now you want something?” the legislator said, in the voice of a woman who had gone past incredulity to whatever was on the other side. And then, blankly: “Who’s Birimi? Oh—the one Oma was having trouble with.” She stared into space for a moment, contemplating it. “Hah. Why not?”

“Right,” Tennal said. He didn’t have to explain why he’d gotten involved with the ex-governor’s affairs. It was Zin’s fault anyway, reader or not. “I’ll have a look for your remnants and see if I can break the brainwashing link. No promises.”

“Keep it quiet,” the legislator said reluctantly. “Don’t push her into anything drastic. Remember, if the Resolution picks up that we kept thousands of remnants and we’re using them, we’ll be in an entirely different sort of trouble. Even Hsanan Oma wouldn’t go that far.”

“Can’t wait to get in whole new sorts of trouble,” Tennal said lightly. “Speaking of, I should get back to my unit.” He glanced over her again, her small frame supported by the ambulance chair, emerging barely alive from a situation she’d walked into herself. The cornered fox, holed up.

Tennal paused halfway through turning away. He heard himself say, “What you said earlier. About…” He stopped. “It didn’t cross your mind to give me any advice?”

“I gave you plenty of advice,” the legislator said.

“You know what I fucking mean,” Tennal said. “You could have told me. That you were—” like me, he couldn’t quite say.

A quiet intake of breath. A crack. And then, eventually: “What could I have said? ‘Turn it on other people like I did’? No.” She gave him something that was not a smile at all. “You and Zinyary were supposed to be better than me. You’re the new generation. And, anyway, you managed to fuck up enough all by yourself.”

“Yeah,” Tennal said. He wasn’t sure what his face was doing.

The legislator said reflectively, “You seem to have done remarkably.” She paused for an instant while Tennal’s whole brain went blank. “I say that in the senior officer sense of ‘I have no fucking idea what you’re going to do next.’”

Tennal’s chest felt like it was full of blown glass, like it might crack. “I’m going to find Surit,” he said. “I’ll see you on Orshan Central.”

CHAPTER 30

The stone spires of Exana were wreathed in flowers. Surit stood by the window in a tiny locked room on a high floor of the central barracks, looking down at the main thoroughfare as a ceremonial procession wound toward the domes of the Codifier Halls for the opening of the Convocation. The sky was a humid gray, but the politicians wore bright formal wraps, green and amber like new spring. There were no spectators except the birdlike silver flash of press drones. Governor Oma walked solemnly at the back.

Legislator Oma, now.