I knew what I should say: There is no limit to the violence they will inflict upon the world. One of Adam’s favorite ways to close a meeting was to drop his voice to a low and ominous level, force us to lean in to hear him murmur, They will sacrifice their own children. Their own mothers. Their own freedom. Do not underestimate them. Do not ever forget, not once, not ever, that they will trade blood for power. I had believed him absolutely. They had destroyed my father and my family, and they had gotten away with it for ten years. My mother had died never seeing my father’s name cleared. And mine was only one family—what had happened to us could happen to anybody, any time the Councils wished, for there were no checks on their power. That was why we had to leave. That was why we needed House of Wisdom. The force of Adam’s certainty, the righteous fire shining from behind his eyes, the anger he felt toward those who had done us wrong, did not leave room for doubt.

Malachi was watching me intently. If Adam were asking the question, I would know it was a test, a way of rooting out weakness before the doubts and fears spread like gangrene. But I didn’t know how Malachi wanted me to answer. If SPEC had not attacked the shuttle—

Nico had prepared some of our cargo and was trying to wrangle the frightened woman onto the ladder. They fought. He had threatened her with his weapon—and he had fired, at least twice. Perhaps more. I couldn’t remember how many shots I had heard. Boudicca had shouted at him, but her admonition had been cut short by the explosion. Fire had rolled from the hatch. Nico. The woman. The cargo.

“There were no explosives in our cargo,” I said, but it was a question, not an answer.

“There weren’t supposed to be. But you didn’t load the crates, and neither did I. Neither did Nico and Bao. Dag and Henke did that.”

Dag would have loaded anything Adam told him to load, and Henke would have been happy to include more weapons. Nico wouldn’t have known. He had always been careless, but even so he wouldn’t have fired a projectile explosive into our cargo if he had known it would be deadly. Dag and Henke could not have meant to risk the precious lives of our family. We needed Boudicca. We needed Nico and Bao. Nobody was expendable. It had to have been an accident.

“But why?” I said. “We don’t need explosives. We need—needed supplies. And why hasn’t Dag said anything?”

“I don’t think the explosives were for us.”

I thought we were going to kill them, Henke had said.

“Adam never intended to release the hostages,” Malachi said.