“I’m not completely without senses in here,” QiRia’s voice said. “I may only be switched on for fractions of an hour at a time, but I can tell roughly what my circumstances are, how much time has elapsed since I was last activated, and I have sufficient appreciation of the radiative and general sensory ambience of my surroundings to tell when I am, for example, on a ship.”

“We were on a ship the last time we spoke,” Cossont said.

“I know. So what? Hardly remarkable. But this is a Culture ship; a GCU or a warship or something similar. That is remarkable. So I remarked upon it. That it? We done? You going to shut me off for another sixteen years?”

“No, no,” Cossont said quickly. “Sorry. Very sorry. But … look. We need to ask you something.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“Hello, Mr QiRia,” Berdle said pleasantly. “My name is Berdle. I’m the avatar of the ship you’re on, the Mistake Not … Pleased to meet you.”

“Yes. Delighted. You sound stressed, by the way, Cossont.”

“Do I? Well, it’s been—”

“Yes. That’s why I said it,” the voice said, with only a touch of acid. “Berdle, I’d like to interface. May I see through your eyes, or some other visual sensor immediately hereabouts?”

“Be my guest,” Berdle said, and looked first at Cossont, then in a steady sweep round the rest of the lounge.

“Cossont! You have four arms,” QiRia’s voice said.

“To play the elevenstring,” she said.

“Ah. You weren’t put off playing it by the Warm, Considering after all. Good for you. So; what is it you want to know?”

She took a deep breath. “Ngaroe, we need to ask you something about … long ago. Going right back. It is … it’s very important. It might affect how the Subliming goes. Our Subliming. The Gzilt Subliming.” She took another deep breath. “There was a message, a signal from the Zihdren, saying that the Book of Truth might all be a lie, and you were mentioned as—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” QiRia’s voice said. Cossont fell silent. “How far back? Are you asking me to remember things from—”

“The time of the conference that set up the Culture, sir,” Berdle said.

“Ah,” QiRia’s voice said. “That far back. Can’t help you.”

“What?” Cossont said. She and the avatar exchanged looks.

“I said,” the voice from the cube told them, slowly, “that I cannot help you. My memories only go back to … about seventy years standard after that time. The memories in here begin at midnight on the 44th of Pereid, 8023, Koweyn calendar. Before that, I’ve nothing.”

“Seriously?” Cossont said. She could hear her own voice start to rise in tone and volume. “You’re missing—?”

“Must ask you to check, sir,” Berdle said, in a pained voice.