Niko went to the edge and rested her forearms on the flat top of the railing. The glass was so cold she could feel its chill even through the thick, padded fabric of her jacket sleeves.

Far below, the light shifted and crawled, sliding layer over layer. She sighed.

The crunch of footsteps coming up behind her made her turn, slowly rather than at a speed that might have constituted a threat. A Paxian soldier wearing a blue and silver cloak, a thin female with a sharp nose, dark, canny eyes, and short-cut hair the same shade as the cloak’s trim.

“Just come to stare awhile too,” the woman said. “I won’t intrude if you don’t want company.”

Her voice was pleasant and even; her appearance unremarkable. The only nonuniform thing about her was the bluestone charm strung on a silver chain around her neck, shaped like a bird in flight.

“All good,” Niko said, settling back into her former position. “Good place to come and think.”

The woman rested her own forearms on the railing, a few feet away, close enough for conversation, far enough to establish distance. Companionable without a hint of seduction. They both stood watching the depths for a long time.

Niko racked her brain again, trying to come up with plans. There had to be a way to make the accords work, to bring everyone to the platform that was, the Spisoli insisted, the only place they could occur. But the only person capable of speaking Ladderan was still a day out, when the talks were only a half day away.

She turned toward the Paxian, waited for the shift in body that meant the other woman had noticed the attention and was open to talking. “Mind if I ask you a question?”

The Paxian shrugged, looking curious.

But before Niko could ask, street movement caught the attention of both. A small figure, hunched, its robe a distinctive black with a red velvet hood, was making its way toward them.

“Sessile priest,” the other said.

Niko nodded. “Heard there was one picking its way around.” Sessiles went wherever their prophecies drove them. Like most races, the Spisoli tolerated their presence.

They watched the figure approach them across the glassy pavement. It came up to Niko’s waist. Once it neared, it stopped a meter away. It raised its hands and pulled the hood away to reveal the narrow reptilian face, the long curve of its jaw, wide-set eyes surrounded by golden-brown scales, pupils wide in the dim light, and faint red eye scale ridges marking him as male. His tongue flickered out twice before he spoke.

“Admiral Larsen?”

“Yes?” Niko said.

He turned his full attention to her. “I am here to speak for you.”

“Speak how?”

“I speak Ladderan. I will talk for you.”

“For the Hive Mind, you mean,” she said, thoughts racing.

The small figure shrugged.