But he did his best to recover. With hands clasped behind him, he walked along the edge of the Box until he’d reached her, where she still sat, now facing her new devotees. She didn’t rise to greet him, nor did she bow her head, and this upset him—to do such a thing with pilgrims present. But now those pilgrims would see that in her own mind, and therefore in their own, collectively, she was already their new God.

Nicholas addressed them. “I’m . . . humbled that all of you would be here, to see the magnificence of the Maze, where all things began. Although I wish Alexandra had given me warning, I accept your pilgrimage. Your God is pleased. Before you decide to spread the word, I ask for time. The Godhead must discuss these things and come up with the best plan. Do you understand?”

He directed this last question at Alexandra, who merely looked at him and nodded.

Nicholas then did what he used to do all the time, once upon an age. He stepped through the small crowd of followers and touched them, lightly, once on the forehead, once on the nose, once on the chin. He told each pilgrim in turn that he loved them, and that someday soon the Evolution would accept them all into its graces. Then he left, not meeting Alexandra’s eyes even once since she’d nodded.

I’ve got you, she thought. After thirty years, I’ve finally got you. Maybe she’d have them cut off an ear or two and turn them into holy relics. Hell, maybe she wouldn’t stop there.

Alexandra was having too much fun. But she knew, somewhere on the periphery of her consciousness, that all of this was to hide a pain that had been trying to break through, break out, crack the surface for a long time. A pain she hadn’t thought of for many years. Why, now, did it come to her? For the thousand thousandth time in her life, she pushed it back into the darkness.

Then she stood up and spread her arms to the sides.

“Pilgrims, arise.”

The airships hovered above them, at least a dozen of the things, the hum of their engines vibrating Isaac’s skull, the blue flames that kept them afloat unlike any fire he’d ever seen. Air swirled in great pockets, blowing his hair and clothes one way and then blowing them another. He still stood next to Minho, who merely looked up at the flying machines with something like dread. Isaac figured this wasn’t a good place to be, but that to run at this point would be as fruitless as using a towel while still in the ocean.