“Epicuro,” Spain interrupted with a firmness that made us all turn, “you don’t want humanity to fail your Great Test because the lot of us, who should be out there shepherding, were stuck here, riveted, listening to you arguing theodicy with Voltaire.”

Jehovah nodded slow assent, and donned His otherworld of black again.

That pierced the bubble. Kosala rose, Spain, Ancelet, and crawling Dominic, commanded by a gesture to quit his Master’s blessed company and do his Mitsubishi duty. The rising leaders’ bodyguards bunched dense around them, and I saw the Utopians draw farther back, and hold their hands, not up, but out, where suspicious bodyguards could see they held no… wands? runes? lasers? warheads? books?

Faust lingered. “Why didn’t I get a Space Elevator?” His whine was playful, but play left when the storm-cloaked Delian approached the old Headmaster, and held out a hand.

“War?” Utopia offered.

Had I ever before seen Felix Faust’s face grow truly serious? He accepted the handshake. “War.” A glint of smile returned. “I thought you might squirm out of it.”

The stormy Delian did not smile. “We expected the same of you.”

“Oh, I fully intend to squirm out of it.” Faust squeezed the proffered hand. “You won’t see Brillists involved in anything. Lie low, that’s the only sensible strategy for we teeny-weeny Hives. But you know that, don’t you?” He leaned in close, peering at the vizor’s surface. For a few breaths Faust studied the Delian’s face, and I saw Faust’s shape through the coat of storm and lightning, his body outlined in spiral ropes of rain like twisted waterspouts. “You voted against,” Brill’s successor pronounced. “You personally voted to abandon Earth. But you lost the vote, and they made you the ambassador today anyway, not Mushi as usual, you. Interesting. And you never introduced yourself. That’s interesting too.”

Some learn with practice that it is more comfortable for the other party if we break off a handshake before we speak our names: “Huxley Mojave.”

“Gorgeous.” The Headmaster positively glowed. “Gorgeous. Now!” He clapped his hands. “Cornel, Achilles, Donatien, and… Huxley… you’ll be wanting me to leave, so you can get on with patching up the… bruising that today’s surprise and Donatien’s tantrum have inflicted on the alliance you’re still pretending you don’t have. I’ll leave you to it. Just kiss and make up fast. Don’t want you missing the race!”

Achilles squinted. “We have four days until the Games.”

“Not your foot race,” Faust laughed. “Tonight’s race. The list with one name.”

Caesar and Achilles traded frowns. “What are you talking about?”

“Did you not read through the lists, Cornel?”

Death in the guise of Caesar had recovered enough to make fists. “Explain or leave.”