"Enough!" hollered Demos Royal. "I cannot bear to listen to the two of you for one moment longer. René, take me to General Middlebury at once."

The Sorreter placed a hand on the king's shoulder, and they vanished from the throne room in First Village, reappearing a moment later in the general's office, in Near Port.

Tovan Middlebury immediately leapt to his feet and grabbed his sword, but recognition of the intruders dawned almost as quickly as the surprise of their appearance. He set his sword back where it had been resting until a moment ago, and reseated himself. "Dammit, Demos, I don't care if you are the king of the world, you could at least call before showing up like this. Or-" he stood up again, slowly and with serious mien, this time- "have the rebels taken the palace?"

"No, no, nothing like that. At least not yet. Do be seated, General. I apologize for the lack of warning, you're quite right. Terribly gauche of me. I just had to get out of that room before those sniveling colonels of yours drove me mad with their cowardice. They've been insisting on surrendering to the rebels. And this, just one day after you won your own battle, and captured the head rebel himself, my once-trusted marshal."

Middlebury paused briefly, considering his response. "I hardly think you ever truly trusted Primus."

"Well, I suppose that's true. But surely you understand why he couldn't be trusted. And he's proven me right not to do so. Although you always trusted him implicitly, didn't you? Is that why you ordered Colonel Woodman not to kill him?"

"I gave that order because it was the proper thing to do. War is not something any of us do for fun- well, most of us, anyway. There are rules we must follow if we are to consider ourselves civilized. Killing an enemy after he's surrendered would be infinitely more gauche than your unannounced visit. Now, as for Siobhan Muttonchop and Beauregard Hickorysmoke, I can't say either of them are among my favorite people, but neither would I call them cowards. It's not fair to judge them based on our victory here in Near Port. We always had the advantage of numbers, here, whereas in First Village-"

"Yes, I know. They've repeated the statistics ad nauseam." Demos sighed. "And I know they're right. It's all just so infuriating. It should have been just as easy a victory there as it was here, but-"

"I wouldn't call our victory 'easy.' A near certainty, perhaps, but even so, we lost over fourteen hundred good men and women. That's a thousand less than the enemy lost, but it would be disrespectful to those who sacrificed their lives to call it 'easy.'"

"Of course. Again, I apologize. I just meant it's shocking how many people turned against us. Not so much the military; obviously if it had just been Orthodox and a few peevish Protestants, it wouldn't have been an issue. But from what I hear, it was around two thousand Protestants, and at least twice as many of those infernal street rats. It's just a shame my little project with Blue and Monogwrangle isn't in play yet. If it had been up and running before the war... But never mind that. As they say, if 'ifs' and 'buts' were candy and nuts, we'd all have a merry Ice Cream Day. Anyway, General, I came here not just to escape those two, but to ask you to talk some sense into them. But now that I've come to my own senses, I realize that was a mistake. But we can't surrender the capital. So my new purpose is to order you to send as many troops as you can to First Village. I understand you still need some people to guard the prisoners, but surely you can spare enough to supplement Muttonchop and Hickorysmoke's regiments. And if they know reinforcements are on the way, perhaps I can convince them to hold out a bit longer." Not that they should need convincing, Demos thought. Their king's command should be sufficient. Well, someday it shall be....

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but it will take some time to get everything in order here, tend to our own wounded- and dead. And my people deserve some rest, after the last two weeks. I should think it would be a week or so before I could possibly-"

"Well, then, I'll order Portman to send his fleet, so that they can transport your soldiers. I'm sure by the time they arrive, your people will be ready to go. I do wish we had those SSTs, but I suppose doing things the old fashioned way will give you the time you need to prepare."

"Very good, sir. Thank you. Although I must point out that even if we had the SSTs-"

"Yes, yes, there wouldn't be nearly enough of them to transport the number of troops we need to move. Just as there apparently aren't enough flying wagons. That seems to me like an unacceptable lack of planning, but..." he sighed. "It can't be helped. This time. But if there's ever another war, we'll be better prepared. If we win this one. So, General... don't fail me."

"I shall do my best, Mr. Gold."

"Thank you, Mr. Cyan. Now, René, let us away... to Port." Deadzone reached out toward Demos's shoulder, but the king gestured to wait. "Ah, but first-" he took out a t-mail bubble and said, "Demos Royal for Althis Portman." While awaiting a response, he smiled at Middlebury. "Calling ahead, this time. You see how much more couth I can be, when meetings go my way?"

Demos returned to Near Port after his meeting with Admiral Portman, on the 29th, and immediately called Colonel Muttonchop to inform her of the plan to send reinforcements. However, she informed him that by the time Colonel Woodman's regiment arrived, the two regiments already in First Village would have been whittled down to nothing, if they kept fighting. But she offered an alternate plan: the next morning, she and Hickorysmoke would announce their surrender. General Inco would surely confine their troops to the stockades on the Army base in First Village. She said she had agents who could release them when the reinforcements eventually arrived, so they could rejoin the fight. That would be far more advantageous, she argued, than letting Woodman's soldiers do all the work themselves. Reluctantly, Demos agreed. So, on the morning of 30 Aut'gin, Muttonchop and Hickorysmoke made their announcement before battle could commence for the day. The news came as a great relief to almost everyone, on both sides.

While the Army's colonels met with Alec and Colonel Orthodox to negotiate the details of the surrender, everyone else had nothing to do but wait. This was preferable to the plans they'd originally had for the day, but still, Darius had never been fond of not knowing what to do with himself. Worse yet, he was in the midst of a crowd of thousands. And crowds were another thing he'd never been fond of, especially when he had no purpose to distract him from thinking about all the people, people everywhere.... He suddenly felt a panic attack coming on, so he tried to forestall it by going somewhere he could be alone. His decided to return to his tent. After a few centhours, he realized he wasn't in the mood for lying down, so he exited the tent and looked for a place to sit. Near the cluster of tents, there were fire pits that were used by sentries to keep watch at night, and by soldiers to cook light meals during the day. Breakfast had ended an hour ago, and it was far from time for another meal, so the fires were all extinguished. Around each pit, logs were arranged in circles or semi-circles; normally they were used as benches, but when Darius felt like he was starting to feel, he preferred to sit on the ground. So, he used one of the logs as a backrest.

It was about half an hour later that Emma found him sitting there, wracked with sobbing. "Wow," she said, "this takes me back about six months. Good times, good times."

Darius looked up at her. She was smiling, and he knew she was trying to lighten his mood, so he tried to smile back at her, but failed. At least he managed to stop crying. "Except this time, I went back to camp to be alone, instead of leaving camp to do so."

"So... what's wrong? And don't say 'nothing.'"

"Actually, this time it's not nothing." He paused while Emma sat down across the fire pit from him, leaning against another log. He mused that this time, she knew him well enough to realize he'd be more comfortable if she didn't sit right beside him, as she had that other time. Shaking the thought out of his head, he asked, "But did you come here for some specific reason? Do we have new orders?"

"Yes, but we have some time. Soon, we'll be following the enemy to their base, to lock them in their own stockades. Seems kind of like adding insult to injury, but I suppose this isn't the time to worry about things like that." She smiled again and added, "When Tiejo heard the news, he got confused. Said he didn't think stockades were prisons, and if they were, wondered why the original elves had called their village 'Woodstockade.' I explained that 'stockade' had more than one meaning, and the elves had been using the meaning he'd probably always thought they meant. Anyway... you and I won't be needed for awhile yet. Not til after lunch, at least."

"It'll be nice to have some lunch, for a change. It's been like a week and a half since we've had anything but field rations in the morning and evening. Not that I would have had the stomach for lunch, in between rounds of slaughter. I barely managed to choke down the meals we did have, and I wouldn't have done that, if I hadn't needed to keep my strength up for battle. I suppose I can thank Woodman for teaching me the value of basic nourishment." He managed a fleeting, wry grin, before resuming his morose demeanor.

"Anyway, you were about to tell me what's wrong."

Darius sighed deeply. He hesitated before answering, unsure quite how to start. Finally, he said, "It's just, you know... everything. There's all the same stuff that's always there, swirling around in my head, even if I can sometimes ignore it. And, as I predicted just before we left Shanty, the heat of battle was an ideal means of ignoring all the shite that goes on in my head. Now it's over, at least for the immediate future, and... I'm glad we won the battle, and can relax a bit. But I also know the war's not over. I expect not long after we've gotten our enemies here squared away, Alec will want us to go to Near Port, to renew the battle that our allies have recently lost, there. But until then, I kind of have a backlog of toxic thoughts that have suddenly been given free reign to slosh around," and he rapped his temple with his knuckles.

"Such as?"

"Well, it started just after this morning's announcement, with an onset of agoraphobia, which is why I came here. And then of course, I just started thinking. I can't really explain all my thoughts, or put them in proper order, or even remember them all, now. A lot of them were vague even when I was thinking them. I suppose... there's a sort of depression that comes as a complement to happiness. That's something that happens to me frequently, and it doesn't really make sense to me. At least not always. There are lots of times when I could tell you, more or less, why a thing that brings me joy simultaneously causes me pain, but this isn't really one of those times. Sometimes I'm just plain sad because I'm happy. At least that's how it seems to me. But then, once I've worked myself into a depressed state, I can't really stop more specific thoughts from assaulting me. The main one that was troubling me just now was something someone said to me a couple of days ago."

Before he could elaborate, someone called out, "There you are." Darius and Emma both turned toward the voice, and saw it was Ginger. She was accompanied by Tom, Tiejo, and Cameron. When the four of them reached the fire pit, they each settled down in front of a log of their own. "Emma, are you playing psychotherapist with Darius again? Maybe you should get a degree and actually start making some money at it."

Emma grinned at her. "Maybe I should. But for now, maybe we can all have a little group therapy. Darius was just about to tell me... um..." she turned back to Darius. "Well, what were you about to tell me?"

"Okay, you've all heard of Zeke Sanguine, right? Sidney mentioned him when we were first staying with my family, and then after we got back from Near Port, Tiejo had a run-in with him. And I've heard rumors elsewhere, over the years. And Tom mentioned having his own reasons for wanting Zeke dead."

"I've heard stories about him, myself," said Cameron. "Some of my fellow ex-Sorreters fought him during the Coming, but apparently most of the ones that did, didn't live to talk about it. In fact I would say there's only one Sorreter they consider scarier than him.... No, check that. There's one they consider almost as scary, one who's far more powerful... the most powerful Sorreter who ever lived; even Drag said so. But lots of Sorreters are more powerful than Zeke Sanguine. Nevertheless, anyone I've talked to who's met him, especially in battle, has said Zeke is the scariest Sor- the scariest person they've ever met."

"So who's the most powerful?" asked Tom.

"Noson Turner. Durell's son. As a matter of fact, he's who I suspect you and Darius fought, the night of the talent show."

Tom scoffed, "Didn't seem that powerful, to me."

"There are a few possible reasons for that. It could be that the two of you were just better than him-"

"Could be?"

"Is there an echo? Yeah, could be. But it's also possible that you only beat him due to the specific circumstances of the fight. Under other circumstances, he almost certainly would have beaten you. Or it could be that the battle turned out exactly the way he wanted it to."

"You mean he wanted to lose?"

"I mean he may have wanted us to take the subsequent actions we in fact took, which ultimately led to this war."

"Meh, I feel like this would have happened regardless."

"Quite possibly, but I'm sure Demos, or the Cabal, or Durell, or Woodman, or someone wanted to ensure it happened, and as soon as possible."

"If you say so."

"Anyway," said Darius, "back to what I was saying. Everyone who's ever met this Zeke guy agree that he's an evil, psychotic son of a monog. And the other day, in the course of battle, one of my adversaries said he'd been watching me fight, and kill, his friends. He said he was eager to face me himself, because my battle style reminded him of Zeke Sanguine. He said he'd always wished he'd had a chance to test himself against Zeke, but as allies, that never could have happened. Not even as a sparring match, because he felt sure someone like Zeke wouldn't stop short of killing an opponent, even if the match was just for training or fun. But fighting me would be the next best thing. Well, I must admit he was pretty good, but I ended up killing him, and continued on with the battle. I have no idea how many people I killed before him or since, over the last week and a half. But I didn't really have a chance to give what he'd said much thought, until that night. And then, I decided to think of it as a good thing, if going berserk on the battlefield meant winning. Alec implied something of the sort, himself, just before we boarded the Woodsorrow. But now that the fighting is over... it's pretty much impossible to think of being compared to a madman as anything other than... terrifying. Especially if it's true."

Emma asked, "So, did you take pleasure in killing the people you killed?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Cameron, from the stories you've heard, do you think Zeke took pleasure in it?"

"Without question. And often he killed for no reason at all."

"I can attest to that," said Tom. "About fourteen years ago, I was having drinks with a former master of mine, the one who taught me to make pocket watches. It had been five years since my time as his apprentice, but I do like to visit my old masters, from time to time. At least, the ones with whom I develop friendships. Anyway, we were having drinks, when Zeke came into the tavern and struck up a conversation with us. He seemed nice enough, until all of a sudden, apropos of nothing, he killed my friend with a fireball, grabbed his watch, and ran off, laughing maniacally. I gave chase, but he managed to get away. And that's when I vowed to kill him if I ever saw him again, or give a reward to anyone else who did so."

Everyone was silent for a centhour, unsure what to say. Then Emma turned back to Darius and said, "See? You're not like Zeke. Not in any way that matters."

"Yes, but-"

"And I doubt he ever suffered a loss of appetite after killing people."

"Okay, but I-"

"You!" came a sudden shout. Everyone turned to see who it was.

Who it was, was a man at the head of a pack of about thirty soldiers from the First Village regiment. They approached with swords drawn, and Darius and the others leapt to their feet and drew their own swords. Darius called out, "The battle's over, in case you haven't heard."

"Oh, I've heard. And I understand full well that we've lost. At least for now. Your general plans to send troops to take Near Port, and our general plans to send troops to retake this village. Personally, I think our side's going to win the war. But you wretches have survived this long, so I suppose you might survive your next battle, too, wherever it may be fought. And then what? Even if your side loses, Middlebury will show you mercy you don't deserve. And I can't bear the thought of that." He and his men now stood directly in front of their enemies. He glared at Ginger. "The daughter of the first Protestant. You know, I was at the Battle of Plist, nine years ago. I saw your father die, and as much as I relished the moment, I was sorry I didn't get to do the deed, myself. But I guess you'll be a fair substitute."

Ginger snarled, "Why you-"

"Don't care, so shut up." He turned to Tiejo. "And you. Words cannot express the revulsion I feel for you and your kind. The Protestants may have been wrong to choose the side they did, that time as well as this, but I suppose they had their reasons. But the 'rats, oh my God, the 'rats.... Talk about misguided! How can you people not see that the Second Order has given you opportunities you never would have had without them? I was a street rat, before the Coming. My whole family were 'rats, for generations. And if not for the Coming, they likely would have remained 'rats for every generation that followed, til the end of time. But not now. We've made something of ourselves. And if we could do it, so could any of you. But no, you all choose to wallow in your miserable little lives and keep blaming others for the way your lives are. And now you've turned against the very people who would have given you a chance to advance. Pathetic."

Turning to Darius, he said, "And the son of Adam. Can't say I blame you for hating what the Second Order did to your family, in the last war, but they made their choice, so they brought it upon themselves. And, oh, what's this? After all these years, they turn out to be alive? Hiding like cowards? I guess you don't have any reason to want revenge, after all."

"Actually," began Darius.

"To be clear, my 'shut up' was directed at all of you, not just Protestant. Anyway, son of Adam, I know many people who consider your clan to be morons, weaklings, and ingrates, for choosing to oppose the Coming, when they could have been prime beneficiaries. I don't share their opinion. Oh, I agree with the adjectives they use-"

"Nouns," said Darius.

If possible, the man's expression grew even angrier than it already was, and he brandished his sword. He opened his mouth to rebuke Darius, but a moment later he grinned. "Fair enough." Immediately thereafter, his countenance once again hardened. "I agree with the things they call your family, but not with their reasoning. If anything, I admire the reasons your clan chose the side they did. I just happen to think those reasons were based on faulty assumptions. They wanted everyone to be seen as equal, and that, in my experience, is what the Second Order did. But they expected it to do just the opposite, and they were wrong. It's a shame, really. I think I would have liked them more than I do some of the people who are on my side. Nevertheless, however well-intentioned their choices, they deserve to die. As do you.

"And as for the rest of you..." He looked at Emma, Tom, and Cameron. "Well, actually I'm not sure who you people are or why you chose the wrong side in this war. But if you're with them, then I'm sure you deserve to die, too. I am sorry that traitorous monog Alec of Kimrin isn't here to hear what I think of him and die with the rest of you, but... anyway, I've said my piece." Without another word, he and his men commenced their assault.

Six could hardly be expected to be a match for thirty, but Emma, Tom, Ginger, and Tiejo more than held their own. Cameron did better still, but Darius proved what he'd been saying about being a berserker. Between the six of them, they slew nearly twenty, sustaining minimal injuries, themselves. But those injuries slowed them enough that the remaining enemies surely would have beaten them before much longer, if reinforcements hadn't arrived when they did.

"What's going on here?!" hollered Colonel Muttonchop, running toward them at a head of a platoon of her own.

The combatants all stopped, turned and faced her. The one who had declared his hatred for the rebels was not among them; he had been the first to fall to Darius's frenzy. One of his subordinates now spoke. "Ma'am, Lieutenant Betterlife thought we should-"

"Defy my orders? Tarnish the reputation of the Army and the Second Order itself? Act with less honor than our adversaries? Sergeant, I'm sure you know how little I think of these rebels, but there are rules of battle. If we fail to follow those rules, we make ourselves lower than rebels. Is that understood?"

"But ma'am-"

"Is? That? Understood?"

The sergeant gritted his teeth and replied, "Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Then follow me back to camp." She pivoted and began marching back the way she'd come, without waiting for further reply. Her platoon followed her, and the remnants of the attacking platoon fell in behind them.

Meanwhile, Emma said to her friends, "Come on, we should get away from-" she looked down at their fallen attackers, and let her glance finish the thought for her. She moved away, and the others followed.

Cameron said, "You all should find a medic, get your wounds treated. I'll go let Alec know what happened."

Emma turned to him and asked, "Are you sure you're not-"

"I'm fine." He translocated to the command tent. It wouldn't have taken long to walk there, but he wanted to forestall any more protests from Emma.

As they made their way to the aid station, Darius walked close beside Emma. The unexpected skirmish had forced his depression into temporary remission, but he felt it trying to return, now that things had settled down, Without preamble, he resumed their earlier conversation. "Anyway... that thought led to others. Regardless of whether or not I'm truly like Zeke-"

"Darius, I don't want to sound insensitive, and while I don't think we would have survived that assault without you, I don't think this is the time for more therapy."

"Right." He thought of adding something, but felt suddenly choked by the resurgence of depression, and couldn't speak. Walking on in silence, he suppressed the tears that were trying to exert themselves. It wasn't hard; he'd had a great deal of practice.

Benj Illustri had followed news of the war with mixed feelings. On the one hand, he really didn't want Demos or the cabal to win, but on the other hand... he really didn't want the other side to win, either. Part of that was because of Tiejo Streetrat. In his opinion, just about the only good thing the cabal had ever done was kill Tiejo, so it had come as an unpleasant surprise when the world learned, shortly after the Battle of First Village had begun, that he was in fact alive. And yet, Benj couldn't root for the cabal to lose without hoping the man who had killed his brother would be on the winning side. So whoever won the war, he felt he himself would lose.

Of course, there was also the request from Manat Ericson, that he think about joining the cabal, himself. Not the old one, but the one that would rise after the war. He was still less than completely convinced about all this Black Prophets business. In fact, he'd never really believed any of the prophet groups that had claimed to predict the future, five hundred years ago, had had any such ability, at all. But if it was true, perhaps he could take some comfort from the fact that the first cabal was going to lose, but even though that meant the Chaos would win, they wouldn't really win. Because they'd have no idea that a new cabal would rise. Looking at it that way, he himself would win, in the end. Perhaps it would be to his advantage to join the new cabal, both to ensure it didn't make the same mistakes the old one had, and to be in a position to make his enemies suffer.

Unfortunately, he hadn't heard from Ericson since the morning of Macen's death, a bit over two months ago. Nor had he heard from Noson Turner since the meeting with that spy woman, a week later. Well, Ericson had said he should go about life as usual, and that's what he'd done. Ericson had also made various cryptic remarks, such as that Benj would soon be in a position to be useful to him. And that his offer would soon become more appealing. And that it would be in the best interest of Benj and of the future to keep quiet about his knowledge of Macen and Zeke's deaths. He'd thought once the deaths were revealed, Ericson might explain why he'd wanted that hidden, but he hadn't. Which left Benj to puzzle it out for himself. He supposed if the police had learned who really killed Zeke Sanguine, he would be in jail; surely no position to work for Ericson. But somehow he felt there must be more to it than that. Then again, Ericson had also said that much of what he was saying was just based on hunches. Maybe there was nothing to any of it at all.

On We'ginday morning, 7 Aut'mo', Benj was pondering these things for what he estimated to be the thousandth time, over the last two months. As he did so, he toyed with Zeke's watch. His thoughts wandered to a conversation he'd had with Macen nine years ago, not long after the end of the Coming. Macen had just returned from his duties in the war, and informed his family that he intended to continue working as a military spy indefinitely. This revelation shocked Benj, and he would have expected it to infuriate their father, but Xander didn't seem at all surprised. Of course they'd known the kind of work he'd been doing over the last couple of years, and they'd been proud of Macen for the vital role he'd played in the Coming of the Order, even if it was the sort of behind-the-scenes role that few would ever know about, and brought Macen no personal glory. But Benj had assumed that there'd be no reason for his brother to continue in that job now that the goals of the Order were on the verge of being fully realized. He braced himself for the argument that was sure to come between Macen and Father, and the tears that Mother was sure to shed at the news. But there was no argument, there were no tears. In fact, there were barely any words at all.

Later, when their parents had left the brothers alone in the parlor, Benj set about interrogating Macen. He tried to select just the right words to calmly and clearly convey his confusion, but after a centhour, he simply blurted, "What the hell are you thinking?!"

Macen smiled at this little brother's outburst, at first, but his expression soon grew wistful. He sighed, and slumped onto one of the room's couches, then gestured for Benj to also be seated. He watched his brother gracefully lower himself onto the sofa facing the one on which Macen himself was haphazardly draped. A moment later, Macen's smile returned, and Benj grew impatient waiting for Macen to speak. He could tell his brother was lost in some reverie, and knowing him, it was like as not unrelated to the matter at hand. Finally, Macen resumed a serious demeanor, and said, "Well, little brother, I'll tell you. I spent most of my life knowing that I could do absolutely anything I wanted to with my life, but having no idea what I might actually want. The thing is... I finally figured it out. What I've been doing these last few years, that is exactly what I want to do. And I dare say I'm rather good at it."

"Yes, but... aside from enjoying it, why continue? What's actually the point? Now that the war's over-"

"There will always be people who resent the changes the Order has brought to the world, and the changes that the Second Order will bring in the near future. On top of that, the changes themselves may lead to new sorts of crimes that weren't even possible, in the old world."

"But the police-"

"Will lack the authority to do what needs doing, in certain situations."

"And you and your followers will have that authority?"

"Well... not officially. But then, the Planners didn't have the authority to implement their Plan, now did they? And look how well that's turned out."

"Look how dangerous it's been. Thousands died in the war."

"But as you said, the war is over. From now on, the death count will surely be far lower."

Benj scowled. "Whatever you may think, flippancy does not become you, dear brother."

Macen grinned. "Agree to disagree."

Benj sighed. "Fine. Let's say I accept that you have reason to continue working as a spy. And let's say it's not going to be as dangerous to do so, in the future. Do you really believe all the people who are working for you will feel the same way? After all, it's not like you're even paying them. They were just following you during the war because they believed in the cause. Surely many, if not all of them, will think as I do, that once the new government is up and running, there will be no more need for their services."

"Is there anyone in particular you're expecting to abandon me? Or should I say hoping will abandon me? Or hoping I'll abandon?"

"That's not what I meant. But since you bring it up, yes. You know damn well I've been hoping you'd stop associating with Zeke and Noson. I don't know any of your other associates, but if those two are typical-"

"I should say not. I actually think you'd like most of my spies more than you do them. Still, it's not your job to trust the people I work with, it's mine. And I promise you, there's not a single person who reports to me that I don't trust far more than I do the people to whom I report. And that includes Zeke and Noson."

"Wait, you don't trust your employers? Then why work for them? And if your people know you don't trust them, why do they-"

"Listen, Benj. My people needn't trust my employers, they need only trust me. And I trust that my employers and I believe in the same cause. Of course, there are those who don't believe in that cause. The Protestants, including your friend Darius and his clan-"

"He's not exactly a friend."

"Whatever. They're not fools, and their distrust of the Plan and the Planners wasn't born out of ignorance. As much as I disagree with them, I understand why they feel as they do. And as much as I agree with the goals of the Plan, it cannot be denied that some of the methods used to achieve those goals were underhanded. While I believe the Planners, and those who will come after them, are correct in believing that the end justifies the means, the mere fact that they're willing to do whatever it takes to achieve that end proves that they're not to be trusted. What's more, not everyone who believes in the cause necessarily believes in it for the same reasons. I myself am one of them, and I am no more worth of their trust than they are of mine. Ultimately we're all on the same side, but... if I'm going to continue working for them, I need to be sure the people who work for me are people I can trust. People who will be loyal not only to the Plan, or to the Second Order, but first and foremost to me."

"Which brings us back to Zeke and Noson. Why do you trust them?"

"You might just as well ask why they trust me. The same goes for everyone in my organization. And the fact is, I trust each of my people for different reasons, just as they trust me for different reasons. My line of work isn't unlike that of an entertainer: you've got to know your audience, so you can play to them. Though unlike an entertainer, I have more precise and specific methods of gauging what approach to use with each person I recruit. I don't actually lie to any of them, but I know what they need to hear, to convince them that they should support the cause. And if I don't think I can do that without bending the truth too far, then they're not worth recruiting. As for Noson, I know I can trust him because he is unwaveringly loyal to his father, and his father is a firm believer in the cause. As for why Durell believes in the cause... like I said, not everyone's reasons are the same as mine. But it's enough that we do believe in the same cause, for whatever reasons. As long as Durell supports the Coming, I know Noson will support me. But I'm sure the one you really wonder about is Zeke. Well, the reason I trust him stems from the fact that he has some serious trust issues, and-"

"Funny, sounds to me like you're the one with trust issues, given all you've been saying. Though it's hard to imagine Zeke even cares enough about what anyone else thinks to worry about whether he can trust them."

"And considering you're so persistent in questioning me about all this... my choices, my employers, my associates, my friends... maybe you have trust issues of your own."

"Only in regard to those who seem unworthy of trust. People like Zeke."

"Fine. But I was just going to say, I've worked hard to cultivate his trust in me. And because he trusts so few people, he highly values those he does trust. With him, causes are utterly irrelevant, and I don't just mean causes like the Plan, that affect many people, but even causes that govern his most trivial actions. To say that before I met him, he was capricious, would be an understatement. He'd spent his entire life acting entirely on whim; I don't think he'd ever done a single thing in his life that he'd taken more than a moment to think about. Well, perhaps I can't say it was his meeting me that changed that; after all, he was the one who informed me of the existence of the Plan. Frankly, it's surprising that he chose to work with the Planners at all, but I suppose that was because he was loyal to Durell, who had been his master. As I said, he's loyal to those he trusts, and Durell is one of those people. Even so, he could just as easily have declined to play a part in the Coming. But once he makes a choice, however random, he sticks with it, and it becomes virtually impossible for him to be stopped. So, he would keep working on the Plan until it had been fulfilled, but once it was, he'd be free to go back to living his life entirely according to whim. However, now that he trusts me, I can continue to influence him even once his obligation to the Plan is over. It's true that he never cared about the Plan, and won't feel any loyalty to or even interest in the government that it will establish. But he likes me, and he knows that the things I ask of him will be things I know he'd find fun. I think it's actually a relief to him, to occasionally let someone else make his choices for him. The fact that the tasks I give him will serve the interests of the new government is, as I said, irrelevant. All that matters is that he's made the choice to be my friend... Yes, I trust him precisely because friendship is the only thing in life that he gives a damn about."

"I can't help but wonder what he'd do if two friends whom he values equally made antithetical requests of him."

"An interesting question, and one I hope never to learn the answer to." Macen grinned and added, "But I'm not worried. I don't think such a dilemma is likely to arise. And even if it did, I'm sure it wouldn't be a big deal."

"What if someone he trusted more than you asked him to kill you?"

"I trust he'd refuse. See, just like you, I only have trust issues in regard to people who are unworthy of trust. The only difference is, I don't see Zeke as such a person."

Benj replied, "Agree to disagree... but I hope you're right, brother."

Nine years later, Benj's thoughts snapped back to the present. He sighed and said to himself, "Right or wrong, either way your whole friendship was a mistake." Still looking at the watch, it suddenly struck him that its hands weren't moving; hardly surprising, considering he hadn't wound it in all the time since he'd obtained it. But it reminded him that it must soon be time to leave for church. He glanced at the clock on his bedroom desk, but still failed to perceive the time. His mind elsewhere, he absently whispered "Trust issues...."

"Trust issues, you ask? Me? Why, yes, it's true, I do have trust issues! Imagine that!"

Benj froze in his seat. He recognized the voice instantly, and it chilled him to his bones. He slowly turned his gaze away from his desk, toward the voice. An image of Zeke Sanguine floated in the air a few feet in front of Benj. He realized it must be projected from the watch, and tested it by moving the watch around. Zeke's voice continued, but Benj wasn't listening. He found that the image remained in place while the watch was moving, but when he stopped, the image realigned to a position directly parallel to the open lid of the watch. Even then, it didn't realign unless a significant change was made in the position of the watch. It seemed to Benj a useful feature, that allowed the image to hold steady in case the one holding the watch had a less than perfectly steady hand. He momentarily wondered, too, how it transpired that the image and sound both seemed to emanate from the air itself rather than the watch, but he shook his head and told himself it didn't matter. He decided he should pay attention to what Zeke was saying, rather than focusing on trivial details.

"...wanted to use a code word I could be sure I wouldn't forget, and yet one that I felt wouldn't come up in conversation with most people, thereby inadvertently activating the recording. Of course, it only works if it's spoken by the one holding the watch, and since I don't trust anyone enough to let them touch it, it shouldn't be a problem. But I also wanted it to be something that whoever ends up with the watch- hopefully Macen or Noson- might guess. Or stumble upon by accident, ha ha ha. Because the whole point of this is that if I go down, I'm taking everyone down with me. Oh, not my friends, of course. There'll be no recordings of them, and all the nasty, evil, illegal, delightful things they will no doubt have done, by the time anyone sees this... if anyone ever does. And by the way, Macen old chum, in case you are watching this, I must apologize for keeping secrets from you. I hope you won't see it as an abuse of your trust, because really, any secrets I reveal here will have been in pursuit of a goal you believe in far more than I ever could, but which I'm willing to do far more to achieve than you ever would. So the way I see it, I'm simply protecting you from your own greatest weakness: your conscience. And yes, it does rather shock me that I could be friends with someone who has such a thing, but at least yours isn't as ridiculously overgrown as those of the fools who would oppose our goal. It's actually kind of cute... not that I'm comparing you to a puppy, or anything. It's more like... oh! Did I ever tell you about the time I saw that manticore licking its paws and cleaning its face? It was so cute I just had to kill it! Not that I'd ever do that to you, of course... But I digress. The point I was originally getting at was that you and I both know we can't trust our superiors, who would, themselves, surely throw any one of their allies under the wagon, to save their own hides. And I don't intend to let them get away with doing that to me, should they ever try. Meanwhile, there will be things they'll want kept from you, because they know as well as I that there are some lines you won't cross- even if you would do any number of things our enemies would call unconscionable. But they also know I have nothing remotely resembling a conscience, so they'll likely call on me, from time to time, to do what needs doing. And... I guess that's all I have to say, for now. Whenever I do make new recordings, I'll list them in a menu, so you can select them in any order you like. TTFN!"

The image vanished, and Benj glanced at the watch's face. The numbers and hands were now overlaid by a glowing list of... titles of various recordings, he supposed. He touched the watch's crystal, and found that he could scroll down the list, new titles appearing at the bottom of the watch's face as old ones disappeared beyond the top. He was about to scroll back to the start of the list, but stopped when one title caught his eye: 'Laser Plot.' He tapped it, and nothing happened, so he said aloud, "Laser Plot." Once again an image appeared in the air before him.

"You don't need to be here for this," said a soldier whom Benj immediately recognized as Charles Woodman. No, this must be before he had a surname, he said to himself.

"Aw, come on, Cap'n," said Zeke's voice. "I'll be quiet. And it's not like I don't know the identity of our glorious leader. Not that I'd even see his face when he calls, anyway."

"Fine, I don't have time to argue."

He was obviously right, as his bubble screen immediately chimed. Charles said, "Accept call."

The screen remained dark, but a magically altered voice emerged from the speaker. "Captain Charles, how progresses your effort to recruit Major Tovan to our cause?"

"I'm... still feeling him out, sir. I'm afraid I have my doubts about whether he'd be amenable. For one thing, he favors Ned in the upcoming election, and I'm not sure we could convince him to support Demos. But I'm more concerned that he's expressed some sympathy for the Protestants. He's never really been happy about the Battle of Plist...."

"Yes, I know. I thought you were going to seek Dalin's advice on what to say to convince him to see things our way."

"I did, and I'm sure I'd be making far less progress without that advice, but it's still not enough. May I remind you that I have already suggested that Dalin's words would have far greater effect coming from the bishop himself? In fact, there are certain points he could make that would make absolutely no sense, coming from me."

"I remember, Captain. And might I remind you that the bishop doesn't wish his association with the Cabal to be known to any more people than are absolutely necessary. The same goes for most of the senior members, and in fact you may count yourself highly privileged to have been entrusted with his name."

"Oh, I do consider myself privileged, sir. I'm simply saying... it may be necessary for him to reveal himself to the major. After all, the whole point is that they're old friends, and I would think that being the case, Dalin should trust Tovan... certainly more than he trusts me. He should also know whether there's even any point in trying to recruit him. The fact that he agreed to coach me suggests he believes Tovan can be recruited, but I'm afraid it may be beyond my own powers of persuasion."

"Captain, the mere fact that the major hasn't revealed our existence to anyone clearly demonstrates that he's potentially amenable." The voice emanating from the bubble-speaker paused for a few moments, before sighing. He continued in a more understanding tone, "However, I do see your point. Very well, I'll discuss this with Dalin, and try to convince him to take care of the matter personally. But if he persists in refusing to deal with Tovan directly, I'll continue to require your devotion in the matter. We need both Tovan and Althis."

"I still think it would be easier to recruit Althis first, and get his help in recruiting Tovan, rather than the other way round."

"It is true that Rear Admiral Althis would undoubtedly be more amenable to our plan than would Major Tovan, but his first loyalty is to Admiral Drake, just as Tovan's is to General Poss. And we already know that Drake will no more be swayed to our side than would Poss. Once my plan to restructure the military is implemented, Poss will be promoted to a figurehead position, with little real power. All the power will be in the hands of the Admiral of the Navy, and the new General of the Army: Tovan. And as we've already established, Tovan is at the very least willing to keep the secret of our organization's existence, because he sees that it is just as much in the best interests of the world as was the Plan itself. The only question is whether he has the stomach to continue being actively involved in a conspiracy whose goal is to even more important, in its way, than was the first conspiracy. Not merely to improve the world, but to see that it stays improved. Both Poss and Drake believed in the Plan, so it is obviously the height of both hypocrisy and naivete to believe that the common folk know what's best for themselves. And yet, if Poss knew of the Cabal's existence, he would surely reveal that secret, and strive to put an end to it. I am certain that Tovan doesn't want that. As for Drake... well, it disturbs me no end that he learned of our plans, but at least for the moment I think he may keep our secret."

"Even so," said Charles, "it would be wise not to count on that. But I see what you're saying: Tovan can be trusted specifically because he knows his superior would oppose us, and Althis can be trusted to a lesser degree specifically because he knows the same thing, to a lesser degree, about his superior. On the surface, it almost sounds counterintuitive, but I guess it makes sense, in some twisted logical way. Still, I wonder... if we're willing to settle for a rear admiral as the Cabal's top representative in the Navy, why do we need a general as our top person in the Army? After you've made Tovan General, I'm in line to become- what's that new rank? Colonel. Which would be equivalent to Althis's rank."

"True, but I never said I was content to have a rear admiral as our top person in the Navy. There is yet a slim chance of changing Drake's mind, but the situation must be handled delicately. There is likely a very fine line between convincing him to join us, and inadvertently convincing him we must be stopped at all costs. Should the latter occur... well, I'm still contemplating ways to eliminate him quietly, without arousing suspicion. If it comes to that, Althis would almost certainly become the next Admiral, and by that time, hopefully we'd have him on our side already."

"Assuming, of course, that he doesn't suspect we're behind Drake's elimination."

"Quite."

"Ooh, ooh, I have an idea!" exclaimed Zeke, speaking for the first time since the meeting began. Benj saw his left arm begin waving out in front of him, as if hoping his master would call on him to answer some question. It was the first time Benj had seen any part of him in the recording, no doubt because the watch was pointed away from himself while making it. Rather disconcerting, Benj thought, to see the arm looking so... disembodied.

"Who is that?" demanded the Cabal's leader. "Captain, I didn't expect anyone to be there with you!"

"Sorry, sir. It's Zeke. I couldn't get him to leave- at least, not without killing him, I expect- and I didn't suppose it would hurt, since he is one of our most trusted- well, one of our most useful assets."

"Very well. What is your idea, Zeke?"

Zeke's arm returned to his side, out of view of the recording device. He said, "I think we can kill two birds with one stone. If the main obstacle to recruiting Tovan is his sympathy for the Protestants, all we really need to do is convince him they're not worthy of that sympathy. The best way to do that is to make it look like they've done something unforgivable. For example, murdering Drake. Now that the war is over, any such act would be seen by the general public as terrorism."

"Intriguing. Though I dare say to make it believable, the Protestants' target should be more than just one man."

"Oh, I've a thought for that, too. They could blow up his ship. I believe he's planning to travel to First Land, to take part in the New Order Day festivities in First Village. But of course, first he'll have to dock at Ship. That would be the perfect place for an ambush. I have an acquaintance, a member of Macen's network, who has been embedded within the Protestant Movement since its very founding. And I know he'd be eager to take on this assignment."

"But how would he actually go about blowing up a ship?"

"With a, um... kind of alien weapon. I forget what it's called, but it's way more advanced than anything we have on the Land, which means he really shouldn't have it. But he's a spirit-talker and an inventor, and he's always been peeved about the taboo against spirits teaching us how to make any advanced technologies."

"I see." The leader paused to consider the idea. "This might well have an additional benefit. The main reason Tovan, as well as people like Ned, are against the recent proliferation of spell devices available to the general public is the idea that if everyone comes to rely on magic, it would slow down our world's scientific advancement. But once they see the harm that can be caused by advanced technology, they may want to slow our development. Which could help Demos win the election, and help us convince Tovan that's a good thing. Yes, I like the plan. You may begin arranging it at once, Zeke. But let's keep this between the three of us, plus your acquaintance. I'm sure several members of the Cabal would agree that it was a necessary evil, but other members would certainly disagree. I assume you can rely on this spy to withhold the truth from Macen? I know he chooses his people based on mutual trust, but you are proof that he doesn't always choose entirely wisely."

"I understand why you say that, but I still resent it. Just because I keep secrets from him doesn't mean he can't trust me."

"I'm sure that statement makes sense to you, so I won't argue the point."

"Thank you. And yes, my acquaintance will understand why Macen can't know about this. As a bonus, Macen knows he's not the most mentally stable individual- you know, more stable than me, but still. It wouldn't come as a shock to Macen if the fellow suddenly went rogue."

"How convenient. Well, then, Zeke, Captain Charles, I bid you both good day. Close."

"My God," said a voice from behind Benj. He immediately closed the watch, and the recording vanished.

Turning around in his seat, he saw Xander standing in the doorway. "Father! How long have you been there?"

"A few centhours. Your mother sent me to see why you hadn't come downstairs yet. What... the hell... is that?"

Benj turned back around, and looked down at the watch. Then he stood, pushed in his chair, and faced his father. "It... belonged to Zeke. I only just discovered that it had been enchanted as a recording device."

"How on the Land did you come by it?"

"That's not important. But I must deliver it to the authorities."

"The hell you will. Give it to me! I'll put it somewhere no one ever sees it."

"What? Why?"

"Because it will ensure everyone turns against the Cabal, and they'll lose the war."

"But I thought you hated them. Why wouldn't you want them to lose?"

"I don't... hate them, I simply have no use for them, and I've been irritated over the years I wasted on them. But that doesn't mean I disagree with their objectives. More to the point, if they lose, it means Adam wins. And I simply could not abide that. I certainly could not abide my own son providing him with the key to victory."

"Dammit, Father, this isn't about Adam! This is about right and wrong. It's-"

"Forget Adam, then. You want to talk about right and wrong? Your brother's murderer is fighting against the Cabal. Surely you can't want to see him and his friends win?"

"Not particularly, no. But the street rat wouldn't have killed Macen if Macen hadn't been trying to kill him. And Macen never would have been trying to kill anyone, if Zeke hadn't gotten him mixed up in the Coming, in the first place. Which is why-" Benj stopped himself before revealing what he'd done to Zeke, but Xander glanced down at the watch his son held, and his eyes widened in sudden realization. Before he could say anything, Benj continued, calmly and quietly, "But that's not important. The point is, as much as I hate these rebels, at least I... disrespect them less than I do the Cabal. Whatever their faults, at least they'd never resort to framing innocents for crimes they themselves committed. And they'd certainly never murder their own allies. Believe me, Father, I'd rather see you as king than Quinn Darkstrider, but we both know that for now, that's not an option. Depending on the outcome of the war, it's either going to be Darkstrider or Demos, and I simply see Darkstrider and his allies as the lesser of two evils. And if it is within my power to ensure their victory... simply by revealing the truth... then by God, I'm going to do it. Later, I'll do anything I can to help you advance your own career, I promise you."

"Don't bother."

"I'm sorry?"

"I'll give you one last chance to hand over the watch. If you refuse, I'll have to take it. But if you force me to do so... you will no longer be my son. Nor will you have the right to call Macen your brother." He held out his hand, waiting for Benj to relinquish the watch.

Benj gaped at his father in disbelief. It seemed impossible that he truly meant it, but looking into his steely gaze, he realized his father meant every word. Finally, Benj hardened his own expression. "I'd say it's you who doesn't have the right to call Macen your son." With that, he pushed his father out of the doorway, slammed the door, and locked it. Then he ran to his window, opened it, and climbed out onto a tree branch he'd often used to sneak out of the house, as a boy.

It took him mere seconds to reach the ground, but he knew his father would already be rounding up servants to give chase. It took him a few moments to decide which way to run, but the choice was obvious: to the Lonewander estate.

When he arrived several centhours later, his father's servants on his heels, he found Adam, Alyn, several members of their clan, and a woman he didn't recognize, just leaving their house, no doubt on the way to church, themselves. He stopped, out of breath, and handed the watch to Adam.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Are you all right?" asked Alyn. "Whatever is going on?"

Benj's pursuers stopped short, and waited for their employer to catch up. When he did, Xander said, "That watch... belongs to me. My son has stolen it. Kindly return it."

"Lies," said Benj, still trying to catch his breath. "You mustn't-"

"That doesn't sound like something Benj would do," said Alyn.

"Nevertheless, he has. And if you do not return my property, I shall be forced to summon the police and have you all arrested as accessories."

"Please," said Benj, breathing easier already. "Do. Call the police. The truth can easily be proven."

Xander glared at all of them, and seethed. "Give. It. Back."

The woman Benj hadn't recognized now spoke up. "What's this all about, really? Who are all these people?"

Alyn turned to her and said, "Oh, Cynthia... these are our neighbors, the Illustris. Although actually we haven't seen any of them since before anyone had surnames. Anyone other than your people, I mean. Benj, here, was one of our son's friends, and this is his father, Xander."

"They did not come to welcome you back from the dead, when you came out of hiding, then?"

"We... were never close."

"I see. Well, young man, I should like to hear your side of the story."

"And just who are you?" demanded Xander.

"My apologies. I am Colonel Cynthia Grandview, of Woodstockade. I have, over the last few months, enjoyed the rather unlikely yet thoroughly appreciated honor of cultivating a new friendship with the Lonewander clan. So much so that they have, these last two We'gindays, invited me to breakfast with them and join them for church services. And now that you know who I am, I ask again: Benj, what have you to say for yourself?"

"That watch... it's a recording device. Never mind for now how I obtained it, but it contains information that could-" he stopped, suddenly realizing the leader of the forces currently occupying Triscot on behalf of the Second Order might no more desire the Cabal's defeat than did his father. Still, if she was friends with the Lonewanders... "Information that could have a dramatic impact on the war. But more importantly, it contains truths that the world deserves to know."

"Well then, unless my hosts have any objections, perhaps we should forgo church this once, and have a look at this information, instead."

Xander shouted, "Goddamn you, Adam, I will have that watch! Now!"

Turning to his neighbor's servants, Adam said calmly, "This is private property. I suggest you all leave, lest I summon the police and charge you with trespassing." To Xander, he said, "Naturally, you may come back with the police and inquire again about the status of the watch." With that, he turned around and reentered his house, followed by his wife, Benj, Cynthia, and the rest of the clan.

Xander turned to his servants and shouted, "If you don't do as I say, you'll all be dismissed!"

One of them spoke up. "Begging your pardon, sir, but Mr. Lonewander is entirely within his rights. I don't intend to break the law for you. If that means I'm sacked, then I'll return to my room, collect my things, and be on my way." He started walking back to the Illustri estate, and the other servants followed him. After a few moments, Xander realized he had no choice but to do likewise.

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