“Good. All three of you who just escaped the enemy’s abuse, I want you to think of nothing but rest today. Crawler will head the team, with Stander-G, Looker, and Nogun. I shall head the standby team in case of misfortune, with Medic and Croucher. You hear me, Croucher?”

A mumble rose from the puzzle pieces, so vague that it might as easily have been poetry as profanity.

“So I can hear you!”

“Yes, Major! Understood!”

“Good, now, equipment check. Bridger, you first.”

Bridger smiled as he held forth his sea-green backpack. “I’ve got everything, Major.”

“I believe you, but if we’re going to do this we’re doing it in baby steps. I won’t be satisfied until I watch you put on every item. You got the talaria?”

Hermes’s winged sandals gave a little flutter as Bridger drew them from the sack. “Yup.”

“Invisibility cloak?”

The old blanket shimmered as the child tied it across his shoulders. “Yup.”

“Force field armor generator?”

“Yup.”

“Thor’s belt of strength?”

“Yup.”

“Excalibur?”

The boy fondled the plastic hilt. “Yup.”

“Phaser?”

“Yup.”

“Teleporter?”

“Yup.”

“X-ray specs?”

“Yup.”

“Magic mirror?”

“Yup.”

“Magic wand?”

“Yup.”

“Spare magic wand?”

He tapped the pair of chopsticks in his pocket. “Yup.”

Has any potentate ever traveled with such protection?

“Healing potion?”

“Four of them.”

“Resurrection potion?”

“Two of them.”

“Paper and markers to make more?”

“Twenty sheets.”

“Scissors and tape?”

“Yup and yup.”

“Apollo’s Iliad?”

The boy’s nod was grave enough for an adult. “I won’t let anything happen to it ever again, I promise. I know it’s the most important thing in the world.”

The Major shook his head. “No, Bridger—you are.”

Normally the boy would smile at that. “Major?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t want to say anything, but I know you’re thinking it.”

“What?”

“That it’s getting too dangerous, that we might need to abandon Mycroft, not see them again. I want you to know, I don’t think I could cope if I lost Mycroft.”

The Major cracked his knuckles. “Listen, Bridger, Fate takes people sometimes. I have lost a lot of people, people I thought I couldn’t live without, whole worlds, but I’m still here.”

“I know, but you’re…”

“I’m what?” the veteran invited. “It’s all right, say what you’re thinking, I won’t snap at you.”

“You’re not somebody who should have my powers. The world needs me to be sane and stable, or I could wreck everything. I need to keep being me. And for that I need Mycroft back. If we can’t get them then I don’t… I just need Mycroft back.”

CHAPTER THE SIXTH

The Room Where Mycroft Canner Died

«Young Master Jehovah, Madame wants you to send Mycroft up to the Salon de Versailles.»

Before you see my next failure, reader, you must understand the power of the room we are about to enter. Here my trial took place. Here was the neutral ground the Powers chose to meet in secret and decide the monster’s fate, while the world outside called in unprecedented unison for blood. Madame had suggested it, hanging on the Emperor’s sleeve as she pleaded for a chance to see this rarest of human beasts before they put it down, and the excuse of satisfying her girlish whim had let all of them pretend the choice to hold my trial here was not political—in truth it could not have been more political, for where else than in her sanctum were the Seven free to help each other cheat their own laws?