“I’m demobilized,” Tennal said. He moved a step closer, lowered his voice so her security couldn’t hear, and said, “Aren’t I? I had better be. Because if not, I might be the one who tells the world how you planned to murder one of your own lieutenants to help your nephew hide his reader skills.”

“Is that right?” his aunt said. Tennal was expecting a flood of invective, but instead the crow’s-feet around her eyes crinkled in a way he didn’t recognize.

“Anyway,” Tennal said, “your division still has Surit, and he’s worth ten of me. Figure out how to use him. I’m out.”

She clapped him on the shoulder. “You fucking snake,” she said. “Pity—you would have gone far. Get in there. The Resolution wants you.”

And with that, she was gone, the cane an irregular tap in her stride.

Tennal joined the crowd funneling into the public entrance. The Codifier Halls were humming with politicians and soldiers, most of whom had the wild-eyed look of people who had been up all night frantically scrambling to get answers for an enigmatic intergalactic body that paid no attention to time zones or logistical issues. The Resolution eye hovering behind Tennal’s head got him waved through all the security checks in an instant.

The heartbeat of the inquest proceeded in the Convocation itself. The hall that housed the Convocation was a huge square room with a series of cushioned benches in concentric squares, centering on a speaker’s platform that was just a sunken slab of marble. Today dozens upon dozens of the Resolution’s eyes occupied one whole side of the benches. A few of them had opened into screens with Resolution staffers on them. A ragtag group of Convocation politicians and military officers sat at a wary distance; most of them seemed to have been here all night as well.

On the platform was Commander Vinys. One of the politicians seemed to be quizzing him about his operation yesterday, while the Resolution listened. Tennal was pleased to see he was sweating.

Today there was no media; instead the benches near the door were scattered with a motley assortment of people the inquest wanted to speak to. Tennal spotted Basavi and Istara sitting on a corner bench at the back.

They were holding hands. They pulled apart when Tennal slipped in next to them. Basavi looked fractionally embarrassed.

Istara did not. “We think the lieutenant’s up next,” they said in a whisper. “He’s at the front.”

“I know,” Tennal said, then stopped in surprise. He did know. He was absolutely, 100 percent certain Surit was fifty yards ahead of him and a little to the left. He could have located him from a satellite.

He and Surit weren’t synced anymore. Tennal had thought they were entirely separate.