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Steris throws open the door to the governor's chamber for Constable-General Reddi and walks in behind him as his newly-hired subject-matter expert — fifteen minutes ago, by Steris's own insistence, and she still clutches the single coin he was made to pay her. Adawathwyn glares; the three senators — Lord Cett, Lady Hammondess, and Lady Gardre — are seated; Ambassador Daal stands prim and silent against the wall behind his bloodred mask. The governor protests that he excluded her; Reddi tells him plainly that it was an unwise call and he has put her on his payroll. Varlance folds and nods her in, and for the first time Steris wonders whether the rift between the governor and his vice governor is real — whether Varlance is not as deep in Adawathwyn's pocket as she had assumed.

The room's path, Varlance announces, looks inevitable: war. Hammondess argues that the Outer Cities are building for it; Cett lists the Bilming warship buildup, the rail blockades to the south, and the *security forces* recruitment posters going up out in the Roughs; both push for striking first while Elendel still has the infrastructure edge. Even Gardre, the soft-spoken centrist, nods along. Reddi sputters at the math — Elendel has barely ten thousand troops counting the navy. Adawathwyn answers smoothly that conscription plans are in place and that the constabulary can be folded into the force; Varlance adds that martial law will make their policing job easier, with curfews. Reddi threatens to resign on behalf of constables who never took the oath to fight a war; Adawathwyn lightly reminds him that *that is precisely what a draft is.*

Steris tries three times to break in, is run over each time, and finally snaps that the room will shut up and listen *or I will barf on the table to get your attention.* She has medication in her handbag for the purpose, she warns; the option is more often relevant than they would think. The room stares. She has the floor.

She pitches immediate evacuation; Cett kills it — they will need workers to ramp up munitions if war comes. Steris had hoped he would not think that far ahead. Glancing at the silent Daal, she wonders for the first time whether the Set has reached into the Malwish too. She turns back and walks the room through her list: the Outer Cities *want* Elendel to keep passing insulting legislation and to keep posturing — they have built gunships and militaries but have not attacked, have not even expelled Elendel's constables and officials. They want a reason. The common people of the Basin have family in Elendel and do not want to fight. Reddi catches up: the posturing is staged to give the Outer Cities' leaders the moral cover for something more desperate — a weapon of cataclysmic relevance. *Returning to your real point*, Adawathwyn cuts in: *this bomb you keep harping on.* But Varlance is watching her. Varlance is listening.

Steris tells him plainly: her husband is in Bilming investigating it; they have replicated a terribly dangerous explosion in their own laboratory from materials the enemy possesses; they have traced test detonations to caverns beneath Bilming. If their fears are correct, the posturing is the cover story their adversaries need before they destroy Elendel *to save the Basin from us.*

Gardre dismisses it — *are we really entertaining doomsday weapons; aren't the real politics enough?* — and as the words leave her, Steris sees it. Gardre is the Set mole. She has been waiting for one among Elendel's political elite. Varlance is far too prominent for the role; Adawathwyn is too actively useful, a loud decoy who almost certainly believes herself the mastermind. The Set hides its real conspirators behind layers of obscurity — which is exactly the seat the calm, reasonable senator has carved out for herself. Steris feels, with relief, like she has just found a snake in her drawer: alarming, yes, but at least the drawer can be shut.

To outflank her: Steris turns to the constables. *This might be the right time to reveal yourself.* Reddi blinks; she means past him, at the lanky young record-keeper, Constable Gorglen. *How did you know?* he asks, in a rough voice that does not match his frame. Process of elimination, she says: MeLaan had said there were multiple kandra hidden among the constables but only named one, and he walks awkwardly when he has to use a two-legged body. Constable Gorglen stands, makes his skin transparent, and identifies himself as TenSoon. Harmony would like him to impress on the council the importance of the debate and to confirm everything Steris has said: the Set is real, they plan to annihilate Elendel. The governor gasps; Adawathwyn draws back. Reddi rounds on Steris for not telling him; she explains she only became certain today and that she had also briefly wondered whether *he* was kandra before deciding that Harmony does not like his kandra impersonating important officials, *except that once, well, and that other time, those were exceptions.* She flips a notebook open to her placement chart: a kandra attendant to the constable-general had been her second-most-likely placement in the city. *And the first*, Adawathwyn asks. *You*, Steris answers — but a kandra in your place would take far more care not to be an utterly worthless piece of slime. She makes a notation in her notebook. The room is silent. *Oh — did I say something awkward again? I do make that mistake sometimes.* Reddi slumps back: *rusts, Wayne was right.* TenSoon growls — he hates it when people do that — and adds the worst piece: Harmony is unable to see certain things lately. They are working blind. *What can blind a god*, the governor asks. Steris mutters the obvious answer: another god.

Before they can decide what to do, a radio technician knocks: Dawnshot has sent a telegram for Lady Ladrian. Reddi hands Steris the page. The opening words come off the paper in bold: the bomb is confirmed real and already built, city-destroying, and the enemy is trying to find a way to deliver it to Elendel. *It's time to evacuate the city.*