And they did an impressive job. Bellis listened and watched the mood soften.

The Lovers were clever. They did not start with bombast, or claims of power and prowess that they had repelled the threat from traitors.

"Many of those who are dead," the Lover began, "many who our fighters killed… were loyal. They were good people doing what they were sure was right for our city." And in that way, respectfully and mindful of the tragedy, he continued.

They spoke in turns, imploring those who were gathered not to lose heart now. "We are very close," the Lover said, and an edge of excitement crept into her voice. Very close to powers that could never have been imagined before. Very close to making Armada truly great, a dynamo powered by potentiality, able to do anything-able to do contradictory things at once.

"Mutiny is not the way," said the Lover. "If this project is not all of ours, it cannot go ahead." You brought us here, she told the crowd. This is your doing, and it is great work.

This was not any time for division, the Lovers said, and unity meant unity in purpose, and the purpose of the moment was to find the Scar.

There would be rewards. It would be so fantastically, incredibly worthwhile.

The rhetoric grew stronger as their overlapping speech progressed. From the eulogies to the dead, the crowd’s children were invoked-skillfully, with promises about what their young lives, their city could be like, after it had mined possibilities from the Scar.

It was a good speech, sensitive and sincere. The Lovers’ fascination with the Scar was affecting. And when the speech was done the crowd’s respect, though subdued, was distinct and meant. The mood had lifted, a very little. The Lovers had won a reprieve-the argument was not finished.

All they have to do is keep the naysayers talking,thought Bellis . We can’t be so far from the Scar now. If they’re right, if it exists, we must be going to get there soon.

Standing a little behind the Lovers, Uther Doul met her eye. She realized for the first time what she had done the night of the mutiny, what she had risked. She had broken into his room and stolen an alien artifact, then delivered it to the marauders. But she was simply too tired of fear to feel it now.

When the talk was done, and as the crowd dissipated, Doul crossed the deck and stood still before Bellis, without sign of rancor or friendship.

"What happened?" he said softly. "It was you, in my room. You took it. I found the shards, at the bottom of the jail. The magus fin was there, rotting. I burned it. So that wasn’t what they wanted, after all?"

Bellis shook her head.