“He’s affected now. Swansong and Precipice too.”

“Oh,” she said. “What do I do?”

“If you ask me, we ride this out, treat Teacher as the bigger threat, and we deal with that first. We resolve the prison situation and we let Goddess go rule her world as she sees fit. If she asks, we go with, we switch our focus… a lot could be done if we do our part there and use that work and accomplishments there to help Gimel.”

“And if she says she wants to destroy Gimel?”

“My first instinct would be to evacuate everyone and then destroy it.”

“And if she didn’t want to evacuate? Kill everyone?”

“I couldn’t do that,” I said.

“Just like in the video, then,” Natalie said.

She’d seen Byron fighting me, had apparently heard the audio.

“I can get away and call people,” she murmured. “The Wardens?”

“I think you trying would set off her danger sense,” I said. And as I said it, I turned my head.

Goddess stood by the computer terminal. Lookout was standing by her again, chattering away. Goddess wasn’t listening, though. She was watching Natalie and I.

“Be safe,” I said. “We’ll figure something out.”

Natalie nodded.

I was pretty sure I was lying.

“Do you know master–stranger protocols?” I asked her, my voice a dire whisper.

As expected, she shook her head.

“You’re not compromised. If you say to do something, anything, I’m going to put my trust in you. Byron might. I don’t know.”

Natalie opened her mouth to reply. She was interrupted by a change in the lighting. A whole wall of projected images flicked over to being a single image from a surveillance camera. It was in color, and the sky on the other side was lit by hues ranging from blue to pink and orange. The shadows of the people in the image were long.

Rain was a step behind Crystalclear.

On another wall, in another panel of projected image, Ashley had moved to the balcony. Damsel stood beside her, claws wrapped around the railing. Others were watching too.

“Audio,” Tristan said.

“…this with full knowledge of the consequences,” Crystalclear said. He’d been close to the head of the group of prisoners that were going to the cafeteria to eat, and now he stopped, arms out to the sides. Guards were moving to flank, weapons drawn.

“Don’t be stupid, Crystalclear. Your record is good, you haven’t had problems yet!”

“Yeh, don’t be stupid,” Coalbelcher’s voice was accented, with nasal intonation that didn’t fit him. “I was looking forward to my dinner, and I get cranky when something or someone gets in the way of that.”