In lulls between the oaths we learned that Fate had spared the Humanists, that day at least. Fifty-one Senators voted to dissolve the Hive then and there, but one hundred and forty-nine voted to give the Humanists a second chance. Only fools were shocked. Cornel MASON commands sixty-one votes and, despite paternal rage, Cornel MASON still dreamed of peace. “The motion fails.”

Menestius: “What’s next, sir?”

Achilles: “Next we build a training camp. You’re not an army yet.”

Eudorus: “We’ve been training.”

Achilles: “I’m about to punch you in the face.”

Eudorus: “What?”

Achilles: “You say you’ve been training. I’m about to punch you in the face. Block.”

Eudorus: “Okay. Readyyykkhgghhhh!”

Even my eyes did not see the blow, just blood’s brightness as the proud young Servicer crumpled from fighting posture to a fetal curl.

Achilles flexed his fist. “We build a training camp, deep in the woods, somewhere untraceable. Mycroft, find a place.”

“Already found.”

I got a fast, questioning glare, but Achilles did not ask whether I had anticipated his need, or whether I kept a ready inventory of abandoned places for my own purposes. “Assemble your best hundred there, then. Three weeks with them, then they split into groups and each group trains another hundred. If the world survives that long.”

The others mustered brave smiles. “We look forward to working with you, sir.”

“It won’t be me who trains you. I’ll come by when I can, but I have Hive leaders to deal with, and battle plans to make.”

“Then who…”

Child-bright wonder lit the Servicers’ faces as Prince Patroclus clambered from Achilles’s pocket.

So, as my companions asked eager questions of Earth’s second-greatest soldier, I settled back to watch the last emergency vote of the now-calming Senate. Greenpeace Mitsubishi Madhur Mudali’s motion passed, again one-forty-nine to fifty-one, and proud Jin Im-Jin handed down the Senatorial Consult to the Seven Hive Council, giving the Humanists, the European Union, the Mitsubishi, and the teetering Cousins one month to prepare proposals for reforming their governments, or else face the Senate’s wrath. A firm date. What would our makeshift army not have given for a firm date for the war? To know how fast to train, when to move our goods and weapons, how much quality to sacrifice for speed? One certain prophecy in wartime is worth a thousand times the treasures haughty Agamemnon laid so long ago at great Achilles’ feet.

And now we have that prophecy. My chronicle will reach it soon, the day of resolution when my first, best Master, in His Inhuman Wisdom, ended, in one blow, the storm of doubt and hope that had assailed us, planting in their place the certainty of war. As I write these words we have forty-four days until the Will to Battle turns to Battle. No doubt, no constant watch for smoke on the horizon. Forty-four days.

CHAPTER THE SIXTH

Lex Prohibit—The Law Forbids