“We can talk at the next chance we get,” Gregor said. “For now, Faultline, any feelings?”

“No plug or sealing her into her suit. Follow, before we’re out of time,” Faultline said. “Stick to my rules. Be good. March has enhanced accuracy and advanced timing.”

“Like Flechette,” I said. I winced. “Foil.”

“Different. Timing is her main power. Situational, big-picture. Operation-level.”

“She was good on the small scale too,” I said, following Faultline. “Is that stronger because she used what she told us about? The thing that let Goddess take all the power?”

“No comment, not on that,” Faultline said.

We were walking now, not into the nice building that they’d gathered by, but down side streets. This was not a car area. It was hilly, with a lot of single-lane roads, and two rivers cutting through it that bottlenecked existing traffic across a finite number of bridges. It was nice, in a quaint, quiet way, no noise of trains or boats tooting their horns.

If I hadn’t been able to fly, I might have taken issue with the fact that everything in this area seemed uphill or downhill.

Faultline went on, “I can’t elaborate because it’s pertinent to my client’s needs and focuses, and it’s for her to share. What you need to know is that March is someone with near-perfect accuracy, timing isn’t a consideration, and yes, these two things are linked when you’re talking about shooting at moving targets. She knows how to use a sniper rifle. What’s more dangerous is that when she sets things in motion, she has a sense of what’s going to end up where.”

“In a timing sense?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“My old nemesis,” Lookout muttered. “Time in the day. Timestamps. Recording by clocks and timers. It’s madness.”

“It waits for no man,” Swansong said.

“The jerk.”

“What makes us safe now?” I asked, raising my voice just a bit to drown out the background chatter. “I assume we’re safe now.”

“We took measures, but they’re time-limited, which is why we’re walking to a confidential but safe place instead of talking any more out in the open.”

“We’ll follow your rules, help keep to your time limit,” Byron’s voice was soft.

Rain, meanwhile, was absolutely quiet at this point. I wanted to ask questions, but I didn’t want to complicate things with the already tense, no-nonsense vibe that Faultline was presenting.

She was a decent mercenary. This was her in her professional mode.

“—Newter?” I heard the tail end of Sveta’s question to Gregor. She was leaning into him hard, like she sometimes did with me, unaware of her own particulars of movement or balance when she wasn’t managing it all herself. “Or Scrub?”

“It is best if I do not share our team’s strengths and weaknesses. Not without more thought. I am sorry, little cousin.”