Jean-Claude wanted to curse him, to throw his arrogance back in his face, but his voice rebelled. A wave of horror drove him back into the cave where ancient man had once huddled from the terrors of the night.

He railed against his own cowardice. His voice was his tool, his greatest weapon. Insults to the flesh he had survived, but this … Everything he did depended on speaking, yet even the most desperate need could not lure him out of the cave.

“Playing with broken toys again, cousin?” came a new voice. Jean-Claude dared roll his head far enough to see the newcomer, on his blurry left side. It was a bloodhollow; that much he could tell from the underwater way it moved even if he couldn’t see its face.

Travers said, “They come to me broken, and I take some small pleasure in repairing them. It is the Builder’s work, but why are you here? I did not expect to receive you so soon after your failure aboard the Thunderclap.”

The cousin made a dismissive noise. “Failure? I extracted the relic, the shard, and the guide. It’s true the Thunderclap didn’t fall out of the sky, but I can be forgiven for that, since nobody knew how powerful the capitaine’s sorcery was. Meanwhile, what have you done except sit in your cabin and brood?”

“You have spent too much time amongst the mongrel breed, and it has corrupted you. You forget to whom you are speaking. I am the purest and most holy. My line is unbroken and my blood undiluted, and it is through me that the Savior will manifest. Forget that at your peril.”

Jean-Claude, intrigued by these intrigues, lay perfectly still. He pictured the Savior rising from the Vault of Ages and being presented with Travers as a vessel. He could only imagine disappointment on a truly epic scale.

“Then you will be happy to know that I have removed another obstacle from your path,” the cousin said. “I convinced Madame to issue a recall order for Capitaine Isabelle. Given that the capitaine had her personal favor, this will be a great embarrassment to her, which will further erode her support amongst the great houses.”

“You think that is a favor,” Travers said. “La reine’s capitaine was the weakest link in the whole expedition. You have done them a favor getting rid of her. And as for Madame, l’Empire might as well have a goat sitting on its throne. What do I care what the great houses think of her? After my apotheosis, all worldly power will be swept away, replaced at last by divine command.”

It was all Jean-Claude could do to remain inert. He would have their hides for attacking Isabelle. There was enough treason here to stretch a hundred necks. A sniff of dust got up Jean-Claude’s nose and tickled. He tried to blow it out quietly, but his huffing only made it worse.