Urkast went off down the hallway and Nilia stood staring at his back, saying nothing. She knew his blue eye could see her perfectly even though his back was to her. Only an imbecile would threaten to come after her like that. But she and Urkast had never gotten along well. She would deal with him when the time was right. For the moment she had more important things to deal with.

  She turned a corner. The gloomy hallway was now bathed in light that was coming from an open door a bit farther ahead. She saw Capa bowing toward the interior of the room where Diago was and then saw Capa closing the door, once again plunging the hallway into darkness.

  “I see you’re having fun with our guest,” commented Nilia as she came along beside him.

  “I am always filled with emotion when I invest time in an old friend,” said Capa enthusiastically, falling into step along side her. “It was a most stimulating encounter that undoubtedly is thanks to your extraordinary talents.”

  “Marvelous. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” she said, in an effort to put an end to the conversation.

  “You must go, I know. I’ll go along with you,” he said casually. “That way I’ll be able to enjoy your exquisite company. I do not possess the self control required to deny myself the opportunity to walk beside the most lovely of the beauties.” Nilia flashed an annoyed look his way. “I don’t mean to bother you; it’s just that our paths are headed in the same direction. You’re going to see Stil, isn’t that right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “A prodigious coincidence. I am going to see my master, who at this very moment is with Stil.” Capa didn’t seem bothered in the least by Nilia’s obvious indifference. On the contrary, he seemed to interpret it as his duty to prevent silence from ending their conversation. “I am overflowing with an indescribable satisfaction to see that you have recuperated perfectly. From what I’ve heard, Vyns delivered quite a blow to your shoulder.”

  “That fool would not have been able to touch me if I hadn’t wanted him to. I had to let him injure me so my fleeing from him would seem real,” explained Nilia, her mind apparently elsewhere.

  “Naturally, it would be completely tasteless to even consider that Vyns possesses any capacity to measure up to you, our most formidable warrior.” Nilia was immune to Capa’s flattery; she was actually immune to flattery of any kind from anyone. She couldn’t have cared less what everyone else thought of her. Besides, Capa was excessively persistent about showering her with praise, even when they were openly arguing. “But that doesn’t excuse him,” Capa went on in his most jovial and sincere tone, “from having dared to wound you, which is, from any point of view, unacceptable. I myself will avenge any such affront and I will bring you his head as a sign of my devotion to you.” Capa ended his declaration in a very theatrical gesturing with his hands. Nilia was convinced that, if they had been standing still and not walking down the hall, he would have presented her with one of his exaggerated bows.

  “I’ll take your word for that,” she said, barely paying attention.

  They arrived at the room where Stil and Tanon were waiting for them. Capa, an immense smile on his face, quickly took a long stride forward so he could hold the door for Nilia as she went through. The two Barons were sitting down, and their conversation stopped when the two entered the room.

  “You wanted to see me, Stil?” asked Nilia.

  “Always at your disposal, my master,” proclaimed Capa ceremonially, leaning forward slightly in a bow but keeping his eyes on his Baron.

  Nilia could not restrain her urge to make a face at the bow. The thought crossed her mind that Capa must have the most muscular back of all the Fallen to be able to keep up with his extensive collection of bows; he spent more time bent over than erect. Tanon gave a hint of a smile, accustomed as he was to Capa’s shameless adulation of him.

  Stil was taller than Tanon, though not by much, and he was just as broad through the shoulders. He wore his long white hair down and his face was calm and soothing, not the face of one of the most powerful demons. Stil had been one of the chiefs of the Guardians and had thick, strong wings which were still a pristine white just like his hair. It was said that the strength of his wings was unrivaled, and they had never been broken. He always kept them covered by a shield, and they were a defense that Stil used masterfully. His wings could stop the strongest blows—even from swords—and on one occasion Nilia had seen him pierce an angel with one of them and then split him in two with it. He was the only demon whose wings hadn’t grown dark in the Hole which, strangely enough, made him look like an angel.

  “We were reviewing the status of our troops,” Stil explained. His voice was soft and melodic. “The Travelers are already all here so the only thing left to do is to finalize preparations. I want you to be in charge of directing them when the time comes.”

  “But that will take me away from the front line of the attack.” Nilia was disappointed to hear she was being assigned that post. The Travelers were the only ones who could find their way through the Fog, so they were indispensable for getting to the Threshold, but they had to remain at their post until the last of the demons had crossed over which meant she couldn’t be on the front line of combat, at least if the battle broke out as soon as they got to the First Sphere. “I have carried out everything you’ve entrusted to me so this war could be possible. I don’t deserve to be relegated to the rearguard.”

  “No one is questioning your ability, Nilia,” Tanon jumped in, his low voice sounding rough and severe in contrast to Stil’s. “You are an indispensable part of our army.”

  “Then why would you put me in charge of the Travelers? Did Urkast have something to do with this decision?” she pressed on, furious.

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  “This was my decision, Nilia,” said Stil. “Access to the Threshold is a critical part of this. If something goes wrong there, the entire operation will be at risk. We cannot win a war if our troops don’t even make it to the battlefield. I want to be sure everything goes perfectly and I need the best one I have to guarantee that. That’s why I assigned you to that post. I wouldn’t feel comfortable with anyone else.”

  Stil’s explanation placated her fury. There were so few demons who heard their Baron say in public that they needed them. Of course, in her case, it was an unquestionable truth of which both she and Stil were mindful. Her clan was the smallest of all; the opposite of Urkast’s, which easily had them by an eight-to-one margin. But Stil’s strength as a Baron was backed up by the quality of his clan, and that’s where she came in. Nilia was almost always in charge of the riskiest missions. She never vacillated and, even more importantly, never failed. That way, Stil could argue in the meetings with the other Barons that a given task had turned out well thanks to him, and not lose the respect of the other Barons that typically carried out a much greater number of missions. Nilia was aware the rest of the Barons had practically demanded Stil take over the operation to capture an angel and introduce a demon into the Nest because they knew she would be the one to carry it out. What she didn’t know was what he had demanded in exchange. There wasn’t the slightest doubt he would have resisted accepting unless he got something in exchange for allocating his most precious resource—not because he was afraid for Nilia, but because it was just how he behaved—making it clear that she was indispensable and strengthening his position.

  “I can’t think of anything more suitable to ensure we get to the Threshold,” said Capa animatedly. “I myself will travel to the First Sphere with a great sense of calm inside me knowing our precious friend is in charge of the Travelers. I applaud your excellent decision, Stil.”

  “Shut it, Boy,” scolded Nilia. Capa gestured as if he were zipping his lips closed as his blue eyes sparkled with amusement. “Once our legions are in the Threshold, I don’t think it’s necessary for me to remain in charge of the Travelers.”

  “Of course it isn’t,” responded Stil. “At that point you’ll join the battle, but not on the front line. Your abilities will be more devastating if used in a different way.”

  “What way is that?”

  “Infiltration,” declared Tanon sharply. Nilia did not like him answering her questions. She was getting the impression it was he and not Stil who had made the decisions.

  “You are the fastest of all of us,” Stil pointed out, “the most elusive, and the most lethal. We have people who can take charge of supporting the battle front but there is no one that can equal you when it comes to giving the slip to the enemy and eliminating specific objectives.”

  “I suppose I can get used to the idea,” she said, much calmer. “What objectives are we talking about?”

  “We want you to eliminate as many members of the Council as you can.” Stil lowered his tone of voice a bit, as if he didn’t want anyone else to overhear what he was saying.

  “Are you referring to the Justices?”

  “Not just to them, but to any of the ten members of the Council; the three Justices as well as the seven Counselors. There is one in particular that you must kill. His name is Asius. Do you remember him?”

  “Naturally. The redhead,” Nilia nodded. “But if I’m not mistaken, he is a Guardian, the same as you, Stil; not a Counselor.”

  “He was a Guardian,” the Baron corrected. “And although I almost never had contact with him, I know he was one of the best. The Elder named him a Counselor after the War, so you can be sure he’s no slouch.”

  “I look forward to seeing how good he really is. What makes him so important?”

  “His brain,” said Tanon. “He is the most perceptive of the Counselors. Very intuitive.”

  “How do you know what’s going on in his mind?”

  “That’s our business, Nilia,” interjected Stil. “Any questions about your orders?”

  “Just one. How do we know the members of the Council will be at the Citadel? I can’t kill them if I don’t find them there.”

  “We can’t be completely sure,” responded Tanon. “In fact, we can almost guarantee they won’t all be there. If we’re lucky, we might find one of the Justices there, but it’s highly probable that Asius will be there. If he’s not there at the start of the battle, he surely will come to the defense of the First Sphere. Among other things, he is aware that if they lose, we will have conquered the gates of the Nest and will have access to the rest of the spheres. Don’t worry; he’ll come to the Citadel.”

  “All right. If Asius makes the mistake of showing his face there, there’ll be a new vacancy in the Council.”

  “That’s perfect,” said Stil. “I knew I could count on you. Tomorrow you’ll meet with the Travelers and begin getting them organized. You only have four days to get everything ready.”

  “All right.” The mission to kill Asius had awakened her curiosity. She was intrigued to see if it really would be a challenge to kill the former Guardian. “But before I go I’d like to see how Diago reacts to the treatment we’ve prepared for him.”

  “Of course,” agreed Tanon, delighted. “After all, we have you to thank for his presence here. Capa, has Diago healed himself?”

  “Yes, he has, my master,” he replied, his face beaming with pride to have been addressed. “My esteemed friend should at this very moment be immersed in a delightful sleep.”

  “Then we just have to wait for him to wake up,” commented Tanon. “If he isn’t healed, we won’t find out much. Do you want to do the honors yourself, Nilia?”

  “No, thank you. We know what’s going to happen; we’re only looking to verify it. We’ll learn much more if the Boy does it instead of me.”

  “What?” Capa’s gloved hands flew to his chest, and his face was struck with a look of horror. “We’re talking about my friend.” His eyes appeared to be pleading. “You cannot expect me to be the architect of something like that. I assured him I would look out for his well-being.”

  Nilia noticed Capa’s eyes were about to pop out of his head, and she was almost afraid he was going to start shaking. The expression of fear on his face seemed authentic, which was no surprise since he never displayed any false emotion. His gestures, his voice, his face, and his body language always seemed genuine, so perhaps they were.

  “Think what would happened if I go in with Diago.” Nilia leaned over a little to get closer to Capa, who had shrunk back somewhat. “If I lose control, even if only for an instant, you know I’ll kill him. On the other hand, if you take care of it, you would indirectly be saving him from me.”

  “Your keenness astonishes me,” replied Capa, recovering his composure. “I cannot understand how that point of view escaped my approach to this situation.” He was talking to himself, his gaze unfocused. “It is for the benefit of my dear friend that I should do this no matter how much my instincts refuse to accept it.” Suddenly, he turned toward Nilia. “Again you capture my admiration.”

  She couldn’t have cared less about his motives, and didn’t even know what they were. She didn’t buy his carrying on about his friend but that was irrelevant. It might have been true or he might have used it as part of the strange performance that was his life but, either way, Nilia knew Capa wouldn’t do it unless she could convince him on his own terms. And it was essential that he be the one, not her. They needed the weakest one to get the most benefit from the results.

  “Fine. Everything’s cleared up then,” said Tanon. “Capa, take care of Diago when he wakes up so Nilia doesn’t have to do it.”