I was no longer assembling Aszerat – or maybe I was – but the process was so effortless that it felt as if I was merely observing it in my mind’s eye, taking a tour of the place. Aszerat was nearly planet-sized, and with no mantle or core to get in the way, it had considerably more square footage. Why had nearly the entire planetoid been imprinted on the cord if the Chime, or the Note of Jecca, whatever that was, occupied only a tiny spot somewhere deep within? Could one purposefully preserve concepts, ideas, or places on the rope of sentient matter just by thinking about it hard enough?

I made some deductions. First, the Chime couldn’t have been lost. It had been stolen and intentionally hidden.

The reflections of Aszerat were all the same. They lacked any individuality that would come from moments of genuine interest. Instead, they felt imprinted through repeated and dogged effort, something I didn’t realize was possible. But there was no other explanation. My third prior had retraced ground throughout Aszerat – or perhaps studied the blueprints – in order to strengthen the imprinting of the entire place, thereby diluting the potency of the Chime’s actual location. And why would someone do that? Unless... unless they knew what they were... understood that their knowledge would survive their death and be accessible to the next person.

“So you think someone was intentionally trying to hide the Chime from the Scythin?” asked Izairis, swallowing a mouthful of some green space-lasagna. As it turned out, Aptat had been holding back on the Child’s food stores. But now that the Stringers owned it, it was Aptat who ate the pemmican.

“Absolutely,” I answered. “You don’t lose something like that by accident. That’d be like Patton losing Mr Pickles or Aptat misplacing their carapace.”

“Maybe someone wanted the Chime for themselves,” said Aptat, breaking off a piece of the hardened space bread. “It’s the only thing in the Universe more powerful than the Switch.”

“But to what end?” I asked.

“Power, of course.”

“You think someone broke into the Timelance and stole it from the Scythin?” I chortled. “And who would be capable of that? I’m interested in your theory.”

“We stole you,” said Aptat.

I scoffed. “You had a technology that they don’t possess, which was only invented...”

“Four days ago,” said Naecia, absentmindedly playing with her puzzle amulet.

“So maybe it was an inside job?” said Aptat. “It only takes one with ambition.”

“You misunderstand them. First of all, ambition for what? They’re already the most powerful species in the Universe. Second, the Scythin are communal. The only hierarchy I saw was between the queens and all the rest–”

“Did you say, queens?” asked Aptat.