Atlanta shrugged. “That’s something that has been erased, which sounds ominous, but it is actually standard practice. If I had to guess? I would suspect that the Empress’s advisors gathered and discussed who would be the best fit.”

“Surely is being more complicated than that. To is being deposing an Empress? A very large undertaking,” Skidoo objected.

“One of the ways that the Empress maintains her power is by keeping close watch over where the knowledge goes. Even a child who is playing at politician knows that controlling resources is key. And chief among those resources—and one that behaves in a number of strange ways, for it multiplies when encouraged—is knowledge.”

Milly arched a white-feathered eyebrow, the gesture barely visible in the subtlety of her features. “Does that mean that your own knowledge is such a resource that has been controlled?”

“Of course it does.” Atlanta was enjoying herself by now. She hadn’t expected conversation with the pastry cook or the receptionist to be quite so interesting. Milly was sharp; so was Skidoo. She wondered what other depths the birdwoman and Squid might be hiding, then chided herself. She’d always scorned her peers who treated servants like lesser beings, then turned around and did the same herself when faced with reality. She explained herself: “But I know that it has been controlled, and that is half the trick of overcoming something like that.”

“Is being so much politicking that is being happening behind the scenes,” Skidoo said.

“You can’t even begin to imagine it,” Atlanta said wryly. She thought of the intricate web of influence and gifts, petty feuds and major rivalries, ties to banks and other interests. “So much that you grow sick of it,” she said.

“Be thankful,” Milly said. “You may be sick of it, but it’s better than becoming an illegal slave, which is probably what’s going to happen to the rest of us.”

“You think they’ll do that rather than kill you and spare themselves any further trouble?”

“Slaves are not cheap, unless you are down on some planet that is well populated and badly regulated,” Milly said. “They’re one of the most profitable contraband items around, or so a lot of people will tell you. You hear things on a space station like TwiceFar.”

Atlanta had to admit that the other woman was right. She wasn’t sure what she was being returned to—so much depended on how far word of her absence had spread—but surely it was better than that. At worst, her behavior would be deemed scandalous or unworthy. In that case, her lifestyle, her stipend, and her rooms at court would be taken away and she would have to make her way in life in some other fashion, but how hard could that be?

“I will have money,” she said. “Maybe I’ll be able to track all of you down and buy you back.”