Atlas sighs. “Helios, we ply the same trade you and I. Truth. But ask yourself. Between the two of us, who is the one who has broken an oath? And who is the one who has not?”
Helios, a staunch advocate for the First Moon Lord’s Rebellion, is unamused.
“Thank you for the play, Lune. If you will pardon us,” he says.
Without a word for Atlas, Helios turns to depart. Diomedes follows. “Nephew,” Atlas calls. Diomedes stops but does not turn. “I was sorry to hear of my brother’s death. He was a great man, your father. We had our differences, namely your mother, but I loved him very much. I have no doubt you’ll live up to our name.”
Diomedes quarter-turns. “Diomedes,” Helios snaps.
Grudgingly, Diomedes follows his mentor away. Atlas watches until they’ve left the theater. “Quite the pair, those two,” he says.
“That is the wrong man to needle,” I say of Diomedes.
“It’s good to know where the nerves are.”
“I thought you were on Luna,” I say.
“Starvation is a slow boil. The pan is set. The burner is on. I can’t really make the Lunese eat each other any faster. Once they topple the Vox, Atalantia may need me again.”
“Why are you here then?” I ask.
“For the same reason as Helios.” His cold eyes wait for my face to betray me. “To see Thessian, of course. The greatest mummer of our age.” He smiles, joking, and scratches a scab on his neck. It looks like someone tried and succeeded in cutting his throat. He sees me looking. “You should see the other man. Well, you should see his whole continent, really.”
“You were on Earth then as well. I heard rumors.”
He nods, as if pacifying North America was nothing. “Atalantia thought I was too…brutal. Oh well, let Falthe deal with the Rockies. Atalantia has sent me to convalesce in the mountain hot springs here but also to review your…performance.”
“You’re here as a prefect?” I say, surprised. “A finance snooper, you?”
“I’ve a knack for numbers, especially when it comes to counting soldiers, and even I need time away from the front lines. I’m here to help. Your expenditures, well, Atalantia wants to be sure her betrothed does not spend himself into ruin. You will of course make your people available to me.”
“Of course.”
“Good. I won’t trouble you further. Pretend I’m not even here.” He watches me for a few moments. “It is good to see you, Lysander. You’ve done great work here. Truly. The people of Mercury are loyal citizens. They didn’t deserve Darrow’s chaos. Atalantia is pleased. Even she cannot go a day without hearing how beloved you are by the people of Mercury.” He pauses, then says, “Your parents would be proud.”
Atlas is so unnerving it is easy to forget he was close with my parents. Kalindora told me to trust him, but I can’t bring myself to do so. All I know is he’s Atalantia’s attack dog, and Atalantia killed my parents. He doesn’t know that I know that secret. But even if he did, what would he do? I can’t help but toy with danger.
“I’m having a gala to launch theLightbringer.I’d be honored if—”
He laughs. “Don’t be silly. I’d kill the mood.”
“Simply no one wants to come to my parties.”
With a smile of good humor, he claps my shoulder and departs. Watching him go, I am filled with dread. If Atalantia is so pleased, then why did she send her headsman?
He stops as if hearing my thoughts, and calls back: “Lysander. Your parents were dear to me. You know that. But there are plans in motion that cannot be derailed. Not even by you. Tend to Mercury. Relax. Let the war be won. It is no shame to be loved.”
When he is gone, I stand in silence for a few moments. The theater is now empty. The torches cast shadows over the stone risers. I hear wind move the grass behind me.
“Kyber. Follow him. Discreetly.”
“Your will,dominus.”
—
The following day, after hours in the sun glad-handing scheming Peerless and hours more soliciting creditors at the theater then the pegasus jousts, it is a relief to land at Glirastes’s estate. The knowledge Atlas is on-planet, and my obsession with deciphering his parting words, doesnot stop the day’s tension from melting away. Mindful of Cicero’s words about Glirastes I thought a visit was in order. Exeter, Glirastes’s Brown steward, greets me with my favorite cactus wine and leads me to the garden attached to Glirastes’s workshop. “Be gentle with him today,dominus. He is…nervous. He fears your…machinations.”
Better then he doesn’t know of Atlas’s presence. “In your opinion, does he feel at fault still?” I ask the pale valet. “For the Storm Gods.”
