The grim set of the ex-Censor’s face made me wonder whether he too, so deeply touched by our Madame, had already felt Hobbes’s bestial shadow. He turned back to the prisoner. “You will stand trial, Prospero. You first, alone. Yours is the core case, and doesn’t get us into the tangle of prosecuting a former head of state, and there won’t be any complicating issues about your mental fitness to stand trial, unlike with most of your bash’mates. Your terra ignota will set the precedent.”

Prospero Saneer breathed deep. “Do you actually expect them to acquit me?”

“That’s a long-term concern. Short-term, petitioning the Senate for a terra ignota will force Romanova to admit that no one’s sure whether or not what O.S. did was criminal. When people believe their side is in the right they’ll fight tooth and nail for it, but no one wants to tear the world down over a maybe. The instant the Senate officially accepts your terra ignota, the mobs will calm.”

“That is… that would work.” It was not quite zeal that tinted Prospero’s tone, but something heavier, gratified relief, as a knight might feel, required to pledge his life to a new-crowned prince, on finding that Divine Right has chosen well. “What about the mobs that aren’t about O.S.?”

Ancelet sighed. “You mean the Cousins Feedback Bureau affair?”

“I mean the incident with Perry and the rest of you at that gender brothel, and what Ojiro says about J.E.D.D. Mason. Is it true there’s a conspiracy to merge the Hives?”

The new president met Prospero’s eyes straight on. “I don’t know.”

“Are you prepared, as Ojiro is, to use any means necessary to protect the Humanist Hive from such a conspiracy if it exists?”

“I’m not about to try to kill J.E.D.D. Mason, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Kill again,” I corrected, the gravity of his error justifying my interruption.

“What?”

“Try to kill again. Ἄναξ Jehovah died.” It was reflex for me by now to pounce upon the lie repeated so many times these past days: ‘tried to kill,’ ‘attempted assassination,’ while so few face the reality: Our Maker’s Guest departed, and returned.

Prospero’s brows knit. “I thought J.E.D.D. Mason survived.”

“He was resurrected.”

“Enough, Mycroft,” Ancelet ordered. “This meeting is about the Humanist Hive, not theory or theology. As for Ojiro, if I had a way to contact them”—the president glanced pointedly at me—“I would tell them that, until or unless Propsero’s trial makes it definitively unlawful, I am open to using deadly force, and Ojiro’s resources, to protect the Humanists, but I intend to try other ways first. If Ojiro stands by, ready to act if needed, I will count them an ally. If they disrupt my plan, if they stir up hostility by continuing to release these videos of Tully Mardi urging war, and especially if they go after J.E.D.D. Mason again, then they and O.S. will become my enemy.”

Prospero nodded. “A useful message; I hope it reaches Ojiro.”