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Far from Freefall’s battered vessel, the author of the Grace’s misfortune was rapidly losing his temper. Arck Sharpeye could scarcely control his fury. It hummed inside his head, shrill and fierce, like high-tension wire stretched tight across his temples.

  He spun on a heel to fix Raptor, the leader of his intelligence service, with a glacial stare.

  “Lost? How can you lose two priority targets? What of the spy in place? Do agents of the BRP not have tracking implants?”

  The square-jawed kres facing Sharpeye flinched at that sibilant interrogation, but his voice was calm.

  “Sire, although the Grace has vanished with no confirmed kill, I do carry good news.”

  The Arck sniffed and one of his fronds jerked, before its tip lifted, granting permission to continue.

  “My thanks, Mightiness. The last contact with our agent revealed your prime target’s where-as.”

  The Arck hissed and glided across the room to stare eagerly into his subordinate’s face. “The traitor?”

  “Certain-sure, Sire. The most-abhorred has joined his cousin. All three top priority targets are now close grouped, on a single ship.”

  “I knew such. I told you there was no need to chase after him. I knew they would gather against me and now I can end them. This is perfect in truth. Send the code to move my assassin soon-as. Tell him to kill all aboard if needed, but ensure my nephews die. And, Raptor, be certain-sure too, of that drakking, desiccated, BGP vulture. I want all three dead, as soon as contact returns.”

  “As you desire,” the BRP leader intoned, and bowed low, before backing to the door.

  Sharpeye watched him slip through it with immense satisfaction. A delighted chortle escaped his control and he skipped across the room to the far wall, made from a single sheet of crystal. He pressed himself against its cold, clear surface and shivered, imagining the night sky beyond lit by a distant explosion.

  I am the hunter. I am strong. I fear no-one. I deserve to be arck. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, until his reassuring mantra was broken by an urgent whistle from his console. He turned, to see an image of his wife, but for once it was easy to find a smile for her.

  “Serenity,” he greeted her formally, and she bowed her head in response.

  “Mightiness, you look glowing. Fatherhood truly agrees with you.”

  “Indeed,” Sharpeye purred, and gestured at her distended belly. “You look most well too. Now, what aid can I offer, sweet?”

  “A little more than you most times give. You’re usually too busy to notice me.”

  “And now I’m to full-pay for that.”

  “Tish, silly.” She looked him in the eye for the first time. “I never make you full-pay. All I wish is another tower, most tall, to get more sunshine.”

  “The whole palace gets total sun.”

  “Indeed, love, but a new top floor would be closer to the sun.”

  There was a pause while the Arck’s teeth ground together like glaciers shearing rock. “How true,” he eventually managed in a strangled tone. “I will build a new level and you may sunbask as you wish.”

  He turned away without acknowledging his wife’s thanks, closing their conversation with a slash of his hand, to instead open a highly secure multi-step connection. The leader of his Hidden Service answered at once.

  Sharpeye asked, “Have you made contact yet? What news, Raptor?”

  “Only a minute has passed since our meeting, Sire, but your instincts are good. A report has arrived. As feared, all outer attacks have failed.”

  “So I thought, but have they caught my agent?”

  ‘No, Sire. The spy remains well placed and will strike soon. The order is given and all three will die.”

  46

  New Worlds