Evening light shone hazily through the diamond-shaped windowpanes. She was reminded of another room, hundreds of miles away in the nation of Gehellen, and a gun battle. She had shot a woman there before Chaison’s favorite staffer shattered the windows and they all jumped out.

Bryce settled himself into an ancient half-collapsed armchair that had long ago adhered to the floor like a barnacle. “Our goals are simple,” he said. “We want to return to the old ways of government, from the days before Virga turned its back on advanced technologies.”

“There was a reason why we did that,” she said. “The outsiders—”

He waved a hand dismissively. “I know the stories, about this ‘artificial nature’ from beyond the skin of the world that threatens us. They’re just a fairy tale to keep the people down.”

Venera shook her head. “I knew an agent from outside. She worked for me, betrayed me. I killed her.”

“Had her killed?”

“Killed her. With my sword.” She allowed her mask to slip for a second, aiming an expression of pure fury at Bryce. “Just who do you think you’re talking to?” she said in a low voice.

Bryce nodded his head. “Take it as read that I know you’re not an ordinary courtier,” he said. “I’m not going to believe any stories you tell without some proof, though. What I was trying to say was that our goal is to reintroduce computation machines into Virga and spread the doctrine of emergent democracy everywhere, so that people can overthrow all their institution-based governments, and emergent utopias can flourish again. We’re prepared to kill anybody who gets in our way.”

“I’m quite happy to help you with that,” she said, “because I know you’ll never be able to do it. If I thought you could do what you say…” She smiled. “But you might accomplish much, and on the way you can be of assistance to me.”

“And what do you want?” he asked. “More power?”

“That would help. But let’s get back to Sacrus. They—”

“They’re your enemies,” he said. “I’m not interested in helping you settle a vendetta.”

“They’re your enemies, too, and I have no vendetta to settle,” she said. “In any case I’m not interested in making a frontal assault on them. I just want to visit for an evening.”

Bryce stared at her for a second, then burst into laughter. “What are you proposing? That we hit Sacrus?”

“Yes.”

He stopped laughing. He shook his head. “Might as well just march everybody straight into prison,” he said. “Or a vivisectionist’s operating room. Sacrus is the last place in Spyre any sane person would go.”

Venera just looked at him for a while. Finally, she said, “Either you or one of your lieutenants works for them.”

Bryce looked startled, then he scowled at her. “You’ve said ridiculous things before, but that one takes the prize. Why could you possibly—”

“Jacoby Sarto said something that got me thinking,” she interrupted. “Sacrus’s product is control, right? They sell it, like fine wine. They practice it as well; did you know that many, maybe most of the minor nations of Spyre are under their thumb? They make a hobby of pulling the strings of people, institutions—whole countries. I’m not so big a fool as to believe that a band of agitators like yours has escaped their attention. One of you works for them—for all I know, your whole organization is a project of theirs.”

“What proof do you have?”

“My… lieutenant, Flance, whom you have yet to meet, has spent many nights walking the fields and plazas of Greater Spyre. He knows every passage, hedgerow, and hiding-place on that decrepit wheel. But he’s not the only one. There’s others who creep about at night, and he’s followed them on occasion. Many times, such parties either started or ended up at Sacrus.”

Bryce scoffed. “I’ve seen a nation that was controlled by them,” Venera continued. “I know how they operate. Look, they have to train their people somehow. To them, Greater Spyre is a… a paddock, like the one where I keep my horses. It’s their school. They send their people out to take over neighbors, foment unrest, create scandals, and conduct intrigues. I’d be very surprised if they didn’t do that up in the city as well. So tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you’re not working for them. And if not, look me in the eye and tell me that you’re impervious to infiltration and manipulation.”

He shrugged, but she could tell he was angry. “I’m not a fool,” he said after a while. “Anything’s possible. But you’re still speculating.”

“Well, I was speculating… but then I decided to do some research.” She held up a sheaf of news clippings. “The news broadsheets of Lesser Spyre are highly partisan, but they don’t disagree on facts. On the run-up to my party I spent a couple of afternoons reading all the news from the past couple of years. This gave me a chance to check on the places and properties that your group has targeted since you first appeared. Quite an impressive list, by the way—but every single one of these incidents has hurt a rival of Sacrus. Not one has touched them.”

Bryce looked genuinely rattled for the first time in their brief acquaintance. Venera savored the moment. “I haven’t been deliberately neglecting them,” he said. “This must be a coincidence.”

“Or manipulation. Are you so sure that you’re the real leader of this rabble?”

Bryce began to look slightly green. “You don’t think it’s me.”

Venera shook her head. “I’m not totally sure that you aren’t the one working for them. But you’re not—” she almost said competent, but turned it into—”ruthless enough. You don’t have their style. But you don’t make decisions without consulting your lieutenants, do you? And I don’t know them. Chances are, you don’t really know them either.”

“You think I’m a puppet.” He looked stricken. “That all along… So what—”

“I propose that we flush out their agent, if he exists.”

He leaned forward and now there was no hesitation in his eyes. “How?”

She smiled. “Here, Bryce, is where your interests and mine begin to converge.”

“I’ll speak only to Moss,” said the silhouetted figure. It had appeared without warning on the edge of the rooftop of Liris, startling the night guard nearly out of his wits. As he fumbled for his long-neglected rifle, the shape moved toward him with a lithe, half-remembered step. “This is urgent, man!”

“Citizen Fanning! I—uh, yes, let me make the call.” He ran over to the speaking tube and hauled on the bell cord next to it. “She’s back—wants to talk to the botanist,” he said. Then he turned back to Venera. “How did you get up here?”

“Grappling hook, rope…” She shrugged. “Not hard. You should bear that in mind. Sacrus may still hold a grudge.”

Shouts and footsteps echoed up through the open shaft of the central courtyard. “Tell them to be quiet!” she hissed. “They’ll wake the whole building.”

The watchman nodded and spoke into the tube again. Venera walked over to look down at the tree-choked courtyard far below. She could see lanterns hurrying to and fro down there. Finally, the iron-bound rooftop door creaked open and figures gestured to her to follow.

Moss was waiting for her in a gallery on the third floor. He was wrapped in a vast purple nightgown, and his hair was disheveled. His desperate, unfocused eyes glinted in the lantern light. “W-what is the m-meaning of this?”

“I’m sorry for rousting you out of bed so late at night,” she said, eyeing the absurd gown. We must look quite the couple, she mused, considering her own efficient black and the sword and pistols at her belt. “I have something urgent to discuss with you.”

He narrowed his eyes, then glanced at the watchman and soldiers who had escorted her down here. “L-l-leave us. I, I’ll be all right.” With a slight bow he turned and led her to his chamber.

“You could have taken over Margit’s apartments, you know,” said Venera as she glanced around the untidy, tiny chamber with its single bed, writing desk, and wardrobe. “It’s your right. You are the botanist, after all.”