Petronio fingered the projectile, feeling its lethally honed edge. Glass belonged in windows. This took boring materials into a whole new dimension. Suddenly, arrows and knives were tedious and dull.

“Yes. I have grown used to the miraculous properties of firearms. In Maw, we take such things for granted.”

Petronio was filled with awe. Firearm was the perfect description — like an extra invisible limb that could call forth instant flame. What he could do with one of these slung around his shoulder! The thought of stupid Dendrans begging for mercy under the gaze of such a weapon was more than appealing. The little island of Arborium suddenly seemed lacking in excitement.

Fenestra continued, “Naturally, we had to have a base, a place to prepare. My method of transport? You’re sitting inside it.”

Petronio’s eyes flicked around again as he remembered what he’d seen the day before, hovering high over the forest. “The metal bird? I’m inside it?” He looked at the number on the blinking box again shooting up to 105, 106, 107. He was both terrified and excited. No wonder his heart was slamming away under his ribs. “You can fly!”

“Yes. We can. The skies and the rest of this planet belong to us. The only tiny, fetid green spot of resistance is right here. But yes, compared to your lumbering ravens, our machines are far superior.”

Petronio detected her condescending tone. Arborium must feel so backward to her. But there was one thing that didn’t make sense. “With all this tekni … er … teknologgy …”

“Technology,” she corrected.

“Right. With all that … why didn’t you … take out Quercus and … set up shop?” Petronio was still short of breath.

“Good thinking, young man, and believe me, we would. But the blasted trees appear to have their own powers. Do you remember injecting me?”

Petronio nodded. If he hadn’t been curious in the first place, Fenestra would be dead.

“Indeed. If the trees had had their way, I would have been no more than a virus stamped out by their protective gas. I explained this to you before. Making the vaccine is an arduous process and our scientists have been unable to mass manufacture. Otherwise, the armies of Maw would have swamped this backwater long ago. As for dropping molt-bombs, why destroy this most valuable crop, complete with ready-made slaves on site to do our bidding?”

“Molt-bombs? What are they?”

“Superheated glass. Four hundred and sixteen thousand degrees centigrade, dropped from the sky to burn up everything in its path. You’ll learn. This place is so backward.”

“Still got soldiers.”

“Some. We used up all of the last stocks immunizing them. Our researchers have told us the antibodies will only work for a further four days.”

“Don’t understand.” She’d lost him again.