“That would not surprise me.” The Headmaster turned off the main path, down an alley of rainbow-dyed waterfalls and toward the cobblestone border of the Old Town.

“Do you think they’ll call in J.E.D.D. Mason?”

Faust’s brows flexed. “Why do you ask that?”

“Young as they are, J.E.D.D. Mason was elected the Graylaw Hiveless Tribune again this year, and they’re also a polylaw, and aren’t they an executive of the Cousins’ Chief Counsel’s Office?”

“Yes. Quite the combination.”

Sniper could not help but follow Faust’s glance across to the observers. These now included several elite Fellows, their heads ostentatiously shaved to display the blotches of pressure spots, proof of their participation in the Institute’s eternal mind-machine interface experiments, which crawl toward digital immortality as slowly as Utopia toward worlds past Mars. Even to hold the gaze of such a specimen is a compliment. Sniper took the lead as the pair squeezed single-file along the whitewashed alley, where the Gordian flag, with its brain-like gold knot against a scarlet field, competed with the brightness of spring laundry. “It must be hard to keep straight, J.E.D.D. Mason having so many different offices. Last I checked they held an office of sorts in every Hive except Utopia, despite still being a minor, and popular enough among the Hiveless to get elected Graylaw Tribune twice. Which way now, Headmaster?” Sniper asked at alley’s end.

Faust pointed right with his cane, up a shopping street where fruit and candy tempted like jewels. “The Hiveless do have the most discerning taste.”

“Did you know J.E.D.D. Mason met with the Mitsubishi Directors three days ago?”

“Did they? Well, they are a Directorate Advisor.”

Sniper’s eyes sparred with Faust’s. “Don’t you think that’s odd? Cornel MASON’s adopted kid being so close to the leaders of the Mitsubishi? Not to mention all the other Hives?”

“Not really. J.E.D.D. Mason’s a very bright child, Sniper, much admired. Much like you.”

Sniper’s smile accepted the compliment. “The Directorate meets with J.E.D.D. Mason far more often than any other advisor. Some even call them the ‘Tenth Director.’ Some even say they’re really Hotaka Andō Mitsubishi’s son.”

“I have heard such a thing said.”

“Do you believe it? Do you believe J.E.D.D. Mason is Andō’s son?”

Faust sighed, swatting at the cameras which buzzed close in the Old Town’s unaccustomed cramp. “Is this why you came to see me? To bait me into embarrassing one of my colleagues in front of millions of viewers? Not a very elegant game, my dear.”

Sniper shed its smile at once. “No game. I want the truth. That’s what the public eye is for, to hold us accountable if we tell lies. I brought my witnesses, don’t pretend you don’t have yours.”