“Then we need to dampen speculation in the press about what’s going on. Barbile wasn’t the only scientist working on that project. We need to be able to stamp out any dangerous kind of sedition, we need to detain all the other scientists involved.

“And with half the militia engaged in slake-moth duties, we can’t risk another dock strike, or anything similar. It could cripple us quickly. We owe it to the city to put an end to any unreasonable demands. Basically, Mayor, this is a crisis bigger than any since the Pirate Wars. I think it’s time to declare a state of emergency. We need extraordinary powers.

“We need martial law.”

Rudgutter pursed his lips mildly, and considered.

“Grimnebulin,” said the avatar. The Council itself remained hidden. It did not sit up. It was indistinguishable from the mountains of filth and garbage around it.

The cable that entered the avatar’s head emerged from the floor of metal shavings and stone debris. The avatar stank. His skin was patched with mould.

“Grimnebulin,” he repeated in his uncomfortable, wavering voice. “You did not return. The crisis engine you left with me is incomplete. Where are the Is that went with you to the Glasshouse? The slake-moths flew again last night. Did you fail?”

Isaac held his hands up to slow the questioning.

“Stop,” he said peremptorily. “I’ll explain.”

Isaac knew that it was misleading to think of the Construct Council having emotions. As he told the avatar the story of that appalling night in the cactus Glasshouse—that night of so-partial victory at such horrendous price—he knew that it was not anger or sadness that caused the man’s body to shake, his face to spasm in random grotesqueries.

The Construct Council had sentience, but no feelings. It was assimilating new data, that was all. It was calculating possibilities.

He told it that the monkey-constructs had been destroyed and the avatar’s body spasmed particularly sharply, as the information flooded back down the cable into the hidden analytical engines of the Council. Without those constructs, it could not download the experience. It relied on Isaac’s reports.

As once before, Isaac thought he glimpsed a human figure fleeting in the rubbish around him, but the apparition was gone in an instant.

Isaac told the Council of the Weaver’s intervention, and then, finally, began to explain his plan. The Council, of course, was quick to understand.

The avatar began to nod. Isaac thought he could feel infinitesimal movements in the ground under him, as the Council itself began to shift.

“Do you understand what I need from you?” said Isaac.

“Of course,” replied the Construct Council in the avatar’s reedy quaver. “And I will be linked directly to the crisis engine?”