“Or in case there is,” Locuil said. The septame and the marshal both looked at him. He shrugged. “In case this whole situation – the attack on the Fourteenth, the president being assassinated – leads enough people to want to postpone the Subliming.” The other two people in the room continued to stare at him. “Well, it’s plausible,” he said.

“That would be a catastrophe,” Banstegeyn said.

“Would it?” Locuil looked unsure. “Just a postponement. Not a cancellation.”

“The septame is concerned that one might turn into the other,” Chekwri said.

“Everything has been put in place, everything planned, everything set up and aimed, focused on the one single day of Instigation,” Banstegeyn said. “We can’t go back.” He shook his head. “We go or we don’t, but a … a postponement? I don’t think so.”

“Well, you’re going to have a lot people wondering who did these things,” the physician general said. “The attack on Eshri, the president’s assassination. These are big loose ends. People will feel … I don’t know; dissatisfied, heading off into the Sublime not knowing who had it in for us.” He looked from Banstegeyn to Chekwri. “Don’t you think?”

“Perhaps Subliming will look like a blessed relief from such worries,” the septame suggested. Neither the marshal nor the physician general looked like they were buying this.

“Well,” Locuil said, rolling up his screen and putting it back into his jacket pocket, “the first leak was over an hour ago. The news channels are spasming, or frothing, or whatever it is they do. I have a press conference to attend.” He stood. “Septame? I’m assuming you’ll want to be there too.”

Banstegeyn nodded. “Of course, Locuil. Can you give us five minutes? There are developments regarding Eshri and our Scavenger friends that the marshal and I have to discuss. Briefly, though; literally five minutes.” The septame glanced at his time-to. “Any longer and feel free to knock on the door. Do you mind?”

“Yes, all right. Five minutes, Banstegeyn,” the physician general said, frowning. He left the room; a babble of noise from the various staff members in the ante-room swelled, then subsided.

The septame looked at the marshal for a few moments. She gazed back, then slowly raised her eyebrows. “I’m sorry, Septame, were you expecting me to say something just there?”

Banstegeyn smiled thinly. “No. Good. Right.” He clasped his hands on the desk in front of him. “The physician general is right, though.”

“I should hope so, on medical matters at least.”

“Come on, Chekwri; you know what I mean. On people needing answers. We need to give them answers.”

“Do we? What answers?”

“What happened at Eshri, what has just happened here. He’s right; people – some people, at least – won’t want to go, won’t want to Sublime with all this going on, unsolved.”

“So we give them a solution?”

“We do.” He nodded his head to one side.