Things, however, are no longer that way. The Heretics, with their disregard for the sanctity of holystone and other artifacts, make new toys of them every so often. In the five years the Heretic spent in the lightless suffocation of Faithful custody, the Heretics found a way to tunnel through the siege shield. This was the technology deployed at Monkglass. The Lady Storm and Esse Temple had been in contact all this time. The Lady Storm and the Throne had been in contact all this time. All this time, all this time. All this time … the tense political maneuvering behind the siege—all that saber-rattling, all that plumage-puffing—had been transparent to Monkglass, the station at the center of it. They were not crying out for help. They never were.

No, it was no mere coincidence that led Misery Nomaki to Monkglass. You might already have guessed the answer. The ansible bond between the Lady Storm and her sibling, the Archbishop of Remus—those early childstone experiments resulted in their being linked across any separation of space and time. I do not think they were aware of this connection, themselves. Misery Nomaki’s abilities allowed them to access this link after they met the Archbishop. Pyrex Imogen did not even realize they were being used as a conduit.

So, was this ordained? You tell me. You do not believe in these things, do you?

You can only imagine the problems caused by the lifting of the Siege of Monkglass. The fragile balance of power between Heretic and Faithful flipped on its head, the tenuous acceptance between them shattered in an instant. The Faithful blamed for not keeping one of their own in check, for plotting to end the siege even though agreements had been thumbprinted between the two sides. A stew of accusation and recrimination thick as golden syrup. The Church and Throne equally afraid of losing control of the narrative within the Empire. The coils of an enormous, glittering and slippery mess lay before them, and none of the sides involved wanted responsibility for it. Wouldn’t it be better if they just averted their eyes? Wouldn’t it be easier to simply push the problem out of the airlock, and pretend that none of the transgressions happened?

And that is how the mess fell into your lap. Your problem to tease apart now. To do whatever you so desire with. As a form of curiosity. As a form of restitution.

Am I wrong?

CHAPTER 34