Peter Wiggin had brought Petra Arkanian with him because she knew Caliph Alai. They had both been in Ender’s Jeesh together. And it was Alai who had sheltered her and Bean in the weeks before the Muslim invasion of China—or liberation of Asia, depending on which propaganda mill you shopped at.

But now it seemed that having Petra with him meant nothing at all. Nobody in Damascus acted as if it even mattered that the Hegemon had come like a supplicant to see the Caliph. Not that Peter had arrived with any publicity—this was a private visit, with him and Petra passing themselves off as a tourist couple.

Complete with bickering. Because Petra had no patience with him. Everything he did and said and even thought was wrong. And last night, when he finally demanded, “Tell me what you really hate about me, Petra, instead of pretending it’s all this trivial stuff.”

Her answer had been devastating: “Because the only difference I ever saw between you and Achilles was that you let others do your killing for you.”

It was so patently unfair. Peter had devoted himself to trying to avoid war.

At least now he knew why she was so furious at him. When Bean went into the besieged Hegemony compound to face Achilles alone, Peter understood that Bean was putting his own life on the line and that it was extremely unlikely that Achilles would give him what he had promised—the embryos of Bean’s and Petra’s children that had been stolen from a hospital soon after in vitro fertilization.

So when Bean put a .22 slug through Achilles’s eye and let it bounce around a few dozen times inside his skull, the only person who absolutely got everything he needed was Peter himself. He got the Hegemony compound back; he got all the hostages safely returned; he even regained his tiny army trained by Bean and led by Suriyawong, who had turned out to be loyal after all.

While Bean and Petra did not get their babies, and Bean was dying, Peter couldn’t do a thing to help either of them except provide office space and computers for them to conduct their search. He also used all his connections to get them whatever cooperation he could from the nations where they needed access to records.

Right after Achilles’s death, Petra had simply been relieved. Her irritation with Peter had developed—or merely resurfaced—in the weeks after, as she saw him trying to reestablish the prestige of the office of Hegemon and try to put together a coalition. She began making snotty little comments about Peter playing in his “geopolitical sandbox” and “outstrutting the heads of state.”

He should have expected that actually having her travel along with him would only make it worse. Especially because he wasn’t following her advice about anything.

“You can’t just show up,” she told him.

“I have no choice.”

“It’s disrespectful. As if you think you can drop in on the Caliph. It’s treating him like a servant.”