Visitors From the South
Turnus took another sip of his tokaj as he stood at the window of his hotel room, looking out across Atlas. It had started to rain upon the city in the clouds, the raindrops hammering against the window, distorting the view of the shining kingdom, turning the lights to blurs upon the glass. He could still see it, though; he could still see the cold beauty of this place.
Mistral was like a man: a great man once, but gone to seed from years of luxury and idleness, sagging down the hill and spilling out into the valleys beyond, his silk shirt unable to conceal the fact that his socks had holes in them. Atlas was like a machine: streamlined, efficient, all the parts working together for the greater benefit of the whole. This was a city which never slept.
A city which does not love?
Turnus frowned, unsure of where, exactly, that thought had come from. Had his father said anything like that? Surely not. Although he may have thought it. His father had never approved of androids or such-like. He had vetoed a proposal to employ them on his police force.
Turnus sometimes wondered if he’d still be alive if he’d trusted robots to watch his back instead of men who proved unworthy of his trust.
He took another drink.
He had wanted to make Mistral more of a machine. He had wanted to make it more efficient. He had wanted to make a second Atlas in Anima, confident as he had been that he would be the one with his hands upon the levers.
Instead, it looked as though he might be crushed between the gears if he wasn’t careful, and Camilla and Juturna with him, what was more.
He turned away. The sight of Atlas, it… it no longer pleased him as it once had, even a few moments ago. It was, as he had to admit, a cold beauty. A machine’s beauty: admirable, perhaps, but not desirable.
He walked to the table and put his glass down before he drank too much. It was true that he had nothing better to do, but that was no excuse. He was the head of the Rutulus family, envoy of Mistral, and family and kingdom both alike were counting on him.
He walked to the bed and sat down upon it, resting his elbows on his knees, the tips of his fingers touching. He wondered what Shining Armor would do with his warning. Would he even know what it meant? It was not much of a warning, a single word whispered into his ear, but it was all that Turnus dared to give. Shining Armor had demanded details, of course, but Turnus had refused to give them up, pretending not to know what he was talking about.
Childish, perhaps, but necessary. He would warn the Atlesians of what awaited them in Mistral, but he could not, would not, dared not, give too much away: not who Chrysalis was or where she was or what her plans were. Anything that cried out ‘Turnus Rutulus has betrayed you,’ he would not venture.
He could not, not even for Mistral’s sake, and certainly not for the sake of Atlas.
Perhaps his warning had been too vague. Perhaps it did not tell enough for the Atlesians to do anything. Perhaps General Ironwood would not believe a word out of his lips, because Turnus Rutulus was but a killer to him, the person who had slaughtered his own team or left them to die.
That was his choice. Turnus had done all he could.
Now, having warned some Atlesians against Chrysalis, he had now to approach some other Atlesians on behalf of Chrysalis, and moreover, to do so without it being obvious who he was talking to. If Shining Armor was able to persuade General Ironwood to have him followed, then it could cause difficulties for Principal Cinch, and those difficulties might cause Juturna great pain in consequence.
He had made a rod for his own back, but it was by the far the lightest of such rods that he had crafted through his folly.
Turnus got up and went to the door, opening it to find Ufens there, standing guard in front of it. A tall, broad-shouldered, bald-headed man, Ufens was one of the oldest members of Rutulian Security, a Haven-trained huntsman whom Turnus had hired when he established the company to lend some experienced combat power to the fledgling force. He was dressed in an RS uniform: a black bodysuit with an equally black armoured vest protecting his torso, and in his hands, he held his weapon in rifle mode, gripped tightly in his gloved hands.
He had his back to Turnus, but half turned to look at him, bowing his head in acknowledgement. “My lord?”
“Get Nisus and Euryalus in here,” Turnus commanded. “I want to see them both.”
“Of course, my lord.”
Turnus shut the door, walking back into the room, clasping his hands behind his back. His men, even the trusted ones that he had brought with him to Atlas, knew nothing of his real mission here. They knew only that he was on a mission for the Council.
Perhaps the secrecy was a mistake, but if he told them that he had submitted to the authority of another, then he would look weak, and if he told them that he was merely pretending to submit, then… Chrysalis had infiltrated his home; how could he know that she had not suborned some of his men as well?
His father had trusted the officers who served under him, and he had been repaid with a bullet in the back. Turnus trusted his men, he wanted to trust them, he would trust them with his life in battle, but with his sister’s life? No. Better that they should remain ignorant until the last possible moment.
He clasped his hands behind his back and assumed a lordly bearing and an air of unruffled command as he waited for his men.
It did not take them long to arrive, nor for Ufens to use the spare keycard in his possession – Turnus did not want to be in a position where he was being murdered inside his hotel room and his men were unable to come to his aid – to open the door for them.
They were an odd pair, Nisus and Euryalus. Euryalus was the older of the two, a man of mature years, his long, dark hair and beard alike streaked with grey, his body concealed beneath a cloak of forest green. He was a countryman by upbringing and profession, a herdsman and gamekeeper upon the Rutulus’ estates. A good shot, a good runner and a good man for sneaking around, Turnus felt that he had been wasted keeping poachers away or keeping the wolves from the flock.
Nisus was not the best man in Rutulian Security, but he was by general consensus the prettiest, a fact that might even last once he became old enough to shave. He was only sixteen years old, and Turnus would have gladly sent him to Haven next year in different circumstances. His father had been a police officer, one of the few good ones, and just like Turnus’ father, he had been killed for refusing to become one of the bad ones. Turnus had taken the young man on in order to save his mother from destitution; it had felt like the least he could do in memory of a man who had served his father well, and he too had proven to have some talent as a scout.
As he had said, Haven would have been glad of him in a year’s time in normal circumstances, but Turnus was glad of him now.
Nisus and Euryalus. The two of them were practically inseparable, although Turnus was not sure what the precise nature of their relationship was; so long as they did their jobs – and they did – it was none of his concern. He was simply glad to have them here.
“I have a job for you,” he declared. “A job which only you can do.”
The two of them glanced at one another, puzzled looks upon their faces. “We are at your service, my lord,” Euryalus said.
Turnus picked up his scroll and sent them both an address. “I need you to go to the location that I have just sent you and demand an audience with Principal Abacus Cinch. Don’t take no for an answer; use my name and status, and it should open the door for you. Once you see her – and make sure that you see her and not some flunky or functionary – present my compliments and tell her that I wish to meet with her discreetly, upon a matter of import for both our kingdoms. Don’t leave until she has given you a time and place, then come back here and report to me. And you must do all of this without being seen or followed or identified, do you understand?”
“I understand the what, my lord, but not the why,” Nisus said.
“It is not our place to know,” Euryalus said. “We will obey your commands, of course, my lord.”
Turnus raised one hand. “That is good to know, Euryalus, but Nisus raises a good point.” He fell silent for a moment. It would be best to tell them something, if only to emphasise the importance of success in this enterprise. “I don’t know how much attention you men have been paying to what is going on in Atlas.”
Nisus looked down at his feet. “Not really, my lord.”
Turnus smiled thinly. “There is an election going on in Atlas at the moment. Different factions are vying for control. I have been commanded by the Council to make contact with a representative of one of those factions… but I do not wish the other faction to know that I am doing so. If they discover it, my mission may end in failure with dire consequences for Mistral… and for my house. Do you understand?”
“I understand the import, my lord,” Euryalus declared. “Though the politics go over my head. Nonetheless, I understand enough; you may rest assured we will not fail you.”
Nisus grinned. “We’ll be less solid than shadows, my lord; they’ll never spot us.”
Turnus nodded. “I have no doubt, nor should you have any doubt that I will not be ungrateful for this service. You will both be well-rewarded for your success in this, I guarantee it.”
“If it please, my lord, I’d rather the reward go to my mother,” Nisus said. “She could do with a treat.”
“Of course,” Turnus agreed. “Of course. That will be all, go to it.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Ironwood leaned back in his chair. “'Chrysalis'?” he said. “You’re sure that was what he said?”
“I’m not likely to forget the name, sir,” Shining Armor muttered darkly.
Ironwood held up one hand. “Of course not,” he said quietly. “I believe you; I’m just a little taken by surprise. And he said nothing else?”
“Nothing,” Shining Armor replied. “Not even when I pressed him; he wouldn’t say anything else, just that it was time for me to go.”
Ironwood found himself once more in Councillor Cadenza’s house – in her bedroom, in fact – with Shining Armor standing by her side. Things were a little different now than they had been before: Twilight and all her friends had gone; he could no longer hear them talking – or grumbling – down the hall. In the bedroom, they had been joined by someone new: Lieutenant Flash Sentry of the Consular Guard. He was not someone well known to Ironwood, and his mother was one of Jacques’ backers – or should that be handlers? – but Shining Armor spoke well of him, as did many other people who were not associated with Jacques Schnee, and he had proved his mettle at the Battle of Vale, losing a leg during the fight for Beacon.
And he had some experience working with Valish law enforcement, which was more than Ironwood could say for most of those he trusted more.
“Of all the things,” Ironwood said, “that I thought you might hear from our Mistralian guest, that name was not one of them.”
“Permission to speak, sir?” Lieutenant Sentry ventured.
Ironwood nodded. “Go ahead, Mister Sentry.”
“I know that we don’t know exactly what this means, and that some of the implications could be worrying, but could this not also be a good thing?” Lieutenant Sentry suggested. “We’ve been worried that Chrysalis would seek revenge on Twilight or Councillor Cadenza or that she was hiding out in Atlas somewhere waiting to strike, but it seems that that isn’t the case.”
“Can we be sure of that?” Shining Armor demanded.
“No,” Lieutenant Sentry admitted. “But if she were here in Atlas, how would a man newly arrived from Mistral know about it?”
“You make a good point, Lieutenant,” Ironwood allowed. “We did assume that she would remain in Atlas, seeking her revenge against those who put her away, but it’s possible that she fled to Mistral instead.”
“But why?” Councillor Cadenza asked. “What is in Mistral for her?”
“Perhaps it’s nothing more than the fact that she’s not actively being hunted in Mistral,” Ironwood suggested. “Perhaps it’s the fact that the Atlas chapter of the White Fang is essentially dead, and she wanted to make contact with the organisation. If so, she may no longer be in Mistral either, but have been passed up the line to Menagerie.”
“Or come back to Atlas,” Shining Armor suggested. “Even if Turnus was telling the truth, it would only be true as he knew it; there’s no telling where Chrysalis could have gone since he left Mistral for Atlas.”
“Also true,” Ironwood said. “Don’t worry, Captain, I’m not going to reduce the security detail around your wife, the rest of the council, or Twilight just yet.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“The continued mystery around Chrysalis’ location is only one question,” Councillor Cadenza reminded them all. “The other is how did Turnus Rutulus know where she was? They’re hardly natural associates.”
“Indeed,” Ironwood said.
“Maybe she did make contact with the White Fang, and they launched an attack in which she was identified by the Mistralians?” Lieutenant Sentry suggested.
“Then why not say that?” Shining Armor asked. “Why be so coy about it?”
“Coy or cloak and dagger?” Ironwood mused. “Considering his reluctance to talk to you about events in Mistral, I wonder why he brought it up at all. If he thought it was important, why only give us a name? If he didn’t think it was important then why drop the name?”
“He hasn’t caught her,” Shining Armor said firmly. “If he had, he would have gloated about it.”
“Are you sure?” Councillor Cadenza asked.
“Yes,” Shining Armor replied. “He didn’t sound smug; he sounded…” He trailed off.
“Go on,” Councillor Cadenza urged.
“Concerned?” Shining Armor ventured. “Worried? Like he was trying to warn me, maybe? It was hard to tell, but it was something like that.”
“But warn us about what? If he really wanted to warn us, then why not give details?” Ironwood asked. He closed his eyes. He had enough conspiratorial subterfuge on his plate with Salem and the battle against her; now even unrelated matters like Chrysalis and the Mistralian embassy came cloaked in shadows.
I am not cut out for this. He would have wished for Ozpin’s counsel, but… honestly, he was starting to wonder if even Ozpin had been cut out for this.
We were made to face our enemies in the light, not in the shadows.
Nevertheless, it was on him to do something about this. He was the man at the top of the pyramid, standing at the apex with all the weight pressing down on him.
Others could help him bear the weight, but he still had to make the calls.
“Lieutenant,” he said, “I understand you worked with the VPD during your time at Beacon.”
Lieutenant Sentry nodded tentatively. “A little, sir.”
“You ever tail somebody?”
“We had someone under observation, yes, sir,” Lieutenant Sentry replied.
“Good,” Ironwood said. “I want you to go to the Glass Unicorn hotel, and if Turnus Rutulus comes out, I want you to follow him, discreetly. Find out where he’s going, who he’s talking to, anything you can. Just don’t let him know that you’re on to him; he is a diplomat, after all.”
Lieutenant Sentry frowned. “Are you sure that you want me for this, sir? Isn’t there someone better suited?”
“'Better suited'? Perhaps,” Ironwood conceded. “Better suited that I can trust? No. I command soldiers, Mister Sentry, not detectives; you are… uniquely qualified in that regard.”
“And the actual detectives, sir?”
“I’d prefer to keep this as confidential as possible,” Ironwood replied. “It seems that there is a lot that Turnus Rutulus doesn’t want to say openly, and that makes me inclined to do likewise.”
“I… see,” Lieutenant Sentry murmured. “Very well, sir, I’ll get right on it.”
“Thank you,” Ironwood said. “Captain Armor and I will ensure that your absence from the guard doesn’t impact you; you’ll be noted as absent on duty.”
“It’s not my attendance that worries me, sir; it’s my mother,” Lieutenant Sentry admitted with a sheepish smile. “She got me the guard position to keep me out of harm’s way.”
“If you do your job properly, Lieutenant, you won’t be in harm’s way,” Ironwood told him. He hesitated. “Thank you, Lieutenant, I appreciate this.”
“Thank you, sir,” Lieutenant Sentry replied. He glanced at Shining Armour and Councillor Cadenza. “I won’t let you down, sir, ma’am.”
Shining Armor nodded. Councillor Cadenza smiled. “Thank you, Flash. I appreciate this, and Twilight will too.”
A smile tugged at the corner of Lieutenant Sentry’s mouth. “Weiss might not be so appreciative, but she’ll understand. I hope.”
“She will,” Councillor Cadneza assured him. “If she truly cares about you, if she loves you, then she’ll understand. She’ll understand, as we all come to understand, that this is just part of what it means to love a soldier.” The smile on her face faded as she turned her attention once more to Ironwood. “What about Mistral? What if Chrysalis is there?”
Ironwood gave no immediate reply. There was no immediately obvious course of action. Sending someone to Mistral to investigate was one possibility, although with worldwide communications down, they would have no way of reporting the results of their investigation beyond coming back to Atlas to make their report, by which time, the information they had acquired would be obsolete.
He could send an agent with broad authority to do whatever it took to get Chrysalis, dead or alive, without the necessity of reporting to him, but the agent or team that he sent would have to be very capable, and capable of operating independently, what was more.
Belladonna immediately came to mind, as someone who had been to Mistral in the past and who had experience operating independently of command supervision. But Belladonna was someone he could ill-afford to lose on a potential wild good chase like this, and even if he could, asking her to go up against Chrysalis alone would be… difficult, to say the least. And yet, to give her backup would involve putting even more of his best people out of reach.
Ultimately, as dangerous as Chrysalis was, she paled in comparison to the threat posed by Salem and her forces. He couldn’t denude himself of his best people hunting a White Fang commander, however malicious, and then have no one to depend upon when the real evil made her play.
It was hard to explain that to people who were not in the know regarding Salem, of course.
“I’m not sure yet,” he admitted. “I’ll have to give it some thought.”
“But you will do something,” Shining Armor insisted.
“I will,” Ironwood said, and hoped he wouldn’t have to break that promise. “I just don’t know what.”
“We understand,” Councillor Cadenza replied. “This must be a lot to take in for you, General.”
“It’s certainly food for thought,” Ironwood acknowledged.
“Do you think that we ought to send word to Menagerie?” Councillor Cadenza said. “If Chrysalis goes there from Mistral, she might not be too pleased to learn about our alliance with the Belladonna family, not to mention our activities there.”
“I’m not sure it would make much difference,” Ironwood admitted. “As per our agreement with the High Chieftain and Lady Belladonna, we can’t send any troops to Menagerie to deal with Chrysalis anyway; we’re wholly reliant upon our alliance with the Belladonnas and the forbearance of the White Fang.” Kali Belladonna had insisted, rightly, that an Atlesian military presence would not go down well with the civilian population; she had also insisted that the White Fang would not attack an obviously peaceful expedition, and that was something that he had to take her word for.
Councillor Cadenza nodded. “I agree, but surely, we could send a message, warning not only our own people but also the Belladonnas? After all, we are allies.”
Ironwood considered that for a moment, and nodded. “I’ll see to it,” he said. The occasional airship did head out for Menagerie every so often, mostly carrying messages and care packages for the boys on the Fearless from the folks back home. It wouldn’t be difficult to add a message for the Belladonnas on top of that warning them that an escaped White Fang firebrand might be on her way.
He wasn’t sure what, if anything, they would be able to do about it, but they would not be able to say that Atlas had kept them in the dark.
“And now, Councillor, I’ll leave you to get your rest. Lieutenant, Major Schnee will be your point of contact on this operation; keep in regular touch with her.”
“Yes, sir.”
“If you need backup, the codeword is ‘Canterlot’; if you spot Chrysalis, the word is ‘bride.’”
“I feel the urge to point out that Chrysalis was never the bride,” Councillor Cadenza muttered. “She kidnapped the bride and impersonated her, but that did not make her the bride at my wedding. Not even when she was walking down the aisle.”
“My apologies, Councillor,” Ironwood said, without changing the codewords. “Captain. Lieutenant.”
“Sir,” Lieutenant Sentry said, standing to attention.
“Goodnight, sir.”
“And you, Captain Sparkle,” Ironwood said, as he took his leave of them. He left the house, returning to his car which had waited outside for him while he met with the Councillor and her husband, and as his android driver – his rank entitled him to a human driver, if he wished, but it seemed rather pretentious when so many people made do with androids to chauffeur them about. As far as he knew, not even Jacques Schnee had a human chauffeur, and he had a living, breathing butler for crying out loud.
Besides, the knight in the front seat didn’t want to talk.
There was a reason androids were replacing cab drivers all over Atlas.
As the silent robot drove him home, Ironwood got out his scroll and called Brevet Major Winter Schnee.
“Sir?” she responded, her face on the screen of his device impassive.
“How are things, Major?” he asked her. “Anything I should know about?”
“Ten o’clock, and all’s well, sir,” Major Schnee responded. “Nothing to be concerned about. How did things go with Councillor Cadenza and Captain Armor?”
“It was confusing, through no fault of Armor; Turnus Rutulus seems to have wanted to be cryptic. I’ve assigned Lieutenant Sentry to tail him. He’ll be reporting to you.”
“That’s wonderful to hear, sir,” Major Schnee replied in a tone so dry it belonged in Vacuo instead of Atlas.
“I’m sorry to put such a burden on you, Major,” Ironwood said, a slight sigh in his voice. “It’s the downside of being one of the few I can trust.”
“It’s fine, sir; I can do the work,” Major Schnee assured him. “It’s not as though you’re taking it easy.”
“I am now,” Ironwood told her. “And you should do the same. Get yourself home and find your bed, while you still have the chance.”
“Soon, sir.”
“I recommend you do it now, Major,” Ironwood said. “Before something comes along to keep you pinned down there.”
Major Schnee smiled. “I’ll bear that in mind, sir. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Winter,” Ironwood said, before hanging up.
He arrived at his house; the car drove off as soon as he got out; he would have to summon it again in the morning if he wished it, but for now, he didn’t even watch it go as he walked towards the door.
The door was locked, but after he unlocked it and stepped inside, he realised that the alarm was off.
Due Process was on his holster at his hip; slowly, Ironwood reached for it as he stepped inside the dark and unlit house. As he drew his pistol, Ironwood groped for the nearest light switch with his free hand.
“The code for the alarm is still his birthday,” the familiar voice: young, female, slightly accented, issued forth from out of the darkness. “That is foolish of you, General.”
“Aska?” Ironwood whispered, tentatively, like someone stepping out upon ice not knowing if it would break beneath his weight or not. He found the light switch and flipped it, illuminating the austere hallway. Illuminating Aska, too, dressed in a mail mesh, a sword slung across her back. It had been a while since he had seen her last, but she hadn’t changed that much; her hair was longer now, and worn in a ponytail tied behind her, but it was still the same brown hair and the same bangs that parted in the centre to frame the same face. “Aska,” he repeated, his voice still a whisper. He holstered his weapon, having no need of it now, but found… he did not know what else to do. What else to say.
She was… home. His daughter was home, and yet… he didn’t know what he was supposed to do. He wanted to go to her, embrace her, hold her tight, and yet… he could not. He was frozen. Trapped in ice. Held still by everything that had passed between them, the words said, the manner of their parting, the memories, Kogetsu’s death… it all added up to a wall separating him from Aska, a wall which he could not break down while she willed that it remain.
And so he could not move. He could not even find the words to express…
She had not called him Father, but General. She had never served in his army – she had dropped out of the Academy long before graduation – and yet, she called him General. Not because she had to but because she wanted to. Because she did not want to call him Father.
Very well. If that was how she wanted it, then he would respect that. He would restrain himself and all that he wished to say to her and how he wished to treat her and respect her wish that they should be professional.
As professional as he could be in the circumstances.
“How… how have you been?” he asked, his voice becoming a little hoarse.
“I am content,” Aska replied, her voice quiet. “My health is good, and my skills improve with continual practice.”
“I see,” Ironwood said softly.
“And yourself, General?” Aska inquired politely.
“I… have been busy,” Ironwood answered.
“Of course,” Aska murmured. “I thought that likely. And how is Rainbow Dash?” she added, a touch of venom seeping into her voice.
Ironwood was silent for a moment. “Dash and I…” He decided not to tell her that he and Dash were not as close as they had been, not least because he was coming to regret how hard he had been on her. Yes, she’d made a mistake, but then, he should have taught her better to avoid that mistake, and to punish her by turning his back on her… it had been too hard, after everything that she’d done and been through…
“They’re not your children, James.”
“They’re as good as.”
What kind of father turns his back on his children when they disappoint him?
A bad one, was the answer that came to mind, and he couldn’t really deny it. Especially not with Aska standing in front of him. “Dash is a Specialist now,” he told her.
“I see,” Aska said. Her next words came quickly, as if she were trying to get them out as quickly as possible. “I am glad that she survived the battle. I know it would have grieved you if she had fallen. Congratulations, upon your victory.”
“'Congratulations'?” Ironwood repeated.
“It does not bring you joy?”
“No,” Ironwood said. “No, it does not.” He paused for a moment. “What are you doing here, Aska? How are you here?”
“I stowed away upon a ship from Mistral.”
“Stowed away on a…” Ironwood trailed off for a moment. “You didn’t sneak aboard the ambassador’s ship?”
“No,” Aska said. “The airship I was aboard was not so hostile.”
“And yet you still had to stow away.”
Aska nodded. “Pyrrha would not have entrusted this errand to me… unless I had confided more in her than I wished.”
“Pyrrha?” Ironwood said. “Pyrrha Nikos?”
“She has been my mistress these past months,” Aska announced calmly.
“Your mistress? I think you’d better explain what’s going on and what you’re doing here.”
Ironwood’s scroll began to buzz.
“You should answer that,” Aska suggested.
“It can wait,” Ironwood told her. “I want to know-”
His scroll continued to buzz insistently.
“I recommend that you answer that, General,” Aska repeated. “I think I can say that it is important.”
Ironwood frowned but did as she suggested, taking the scroll out of his pocket and answering it. “What?” he demanded, a little more testily than whoever was on the other end of the scroll deserved.
It turned out to be Winter Schnee. “Apologies for bothering you, sir,” she said. “I should have taken your advice.”
“My advice?”
“And gotten away while I could,” Winter explained.
“Something’s come up, Major?” Ironwood asked.
“There’s a woman just arrived at Atlas calling herself Lady Hippolyta Nikos,” Winter informed him. “She says that she’s Pyrrha Nikos’ mother, that she’s come from Mistral, and that she needs to speak to you personally. And she’s refusing to leave until she does.”
Ironwood glanced at Aska, who nodded in response to the unspoken question. “Did she say why she needs to speak to me so urgently?”
“Apparently,” Winter said, “it concerns Professor Ozpin’s business.”
Ozpin’s business. Pyrrha Nikos had certainly known all about that, and it was not implausible that she might choose to tell her mother about it, even if it was not what Ozpin himself would have wanted her to do. Aska had confirmed that it really was Pyrrha’s mother – although he still didn’t understand the exact circumstances under which she had known that – and it seemed that Pyrrha had sent her mother here to speak to him, with Aska deciding to tag along.
Ozpin’s business. Was he at last about to find out what was going on? Was Salem moving against Mistral next? Was the relic safe?
There wasn’t much point standing here asking himself these questions when he could go to Atlas and get the answers from Hippolyta Nikos, was there?
“Take her to my office,” he said. “I’ll be right there.”