“Of course,” the guard said blankly, and opened the door. He saluted as Surit went through.

Surit walked alone up the city’s wide central avenue, the artery of Exana, to the Codifier Halls.

He barely thought. His mind was empty and yet, at the same time, filled to bursting with a buzzing energy. He was bigger than the fragile shell of his skin. He burned like a torch: high and bright and brief.

As he approached the halls, an Archer patrol rounded the corner and spotted him. Surit should maybe have been more concerned, but he felt power pool in his hands and didn’t even slow as they cut across his path.

“Halt—” one of them said.

“None of you are authorized to stop me,” Surit said. There were five of them. It shouldn’t be possible to control that many people at once, but he could see how to do it one after the other like a rapid pendulum, split seconds apart. His head complained, as did something in his ribs, but what did it matter if he drained himself? He wouldn’t be long.

He saw sweat break out on some of their faces as they tried to fight it. Then one of them cracked, backing off and stumbling, running in the other direction. The others followed.

There were ways of dealing with strong architects, Surit knew, because he had learned them in officer academy while carefully not thinking about whether they could apply to him. The simplest was just to rush them and shoot them while they were distracted. But nobody had been expecting a Rank One to walk up.

In the back of his mind, he noted that the handful of soldiers appearing at the mouths of alleyways were armed. Surit was a clear target, outlined against the avenue.

No one shot. But before he’d gone another fifty yards, one of them broke cover.

She sprinted to him. Because she wasn’t armed, Surit stopped. Her shoulder tabs were Cavalry red, and her uniform had officer’s braid.

“Division?” the soldier said urgently.

Surit had to pause. Division seemed an overly detailed human concept to the part of his mind that was fully immersed in his powers; it was almost irrelevant. But the rest of him rebelled. This was carved into his bones. “Cavalry.”

“Cavalry operations are already in progress in this area,” the soldier said anxiously. “You must report to the local commander.”

“I’m not going to wait,” Surit said, gently moving her away with a mental push. “I need to see Governor Oma.”

He didn’t even watch to see if she’d followed him. He knew she hadn’t.

The gates of the Codifier Halls were a huge arch of stone, garlanded in bright-silver flowers for the new legislator. It was filled in with stone blocks, and a dozen smaller arched doorways cut into that, each with its own shimmering force field. Surit stopped in front of one.