Yet again, as I had too many times before, I awoke in my Pod.

  It was a sign of the day that had passed that all the Pods were occupied. I scanned the room. Magneblade rested in his Pod, his face impatient and frustrated. Olaf in his was pensive, troubled. Alya was unreadable. Tara lost in a vacant daze.

  The room was far from empty. The peace of the chamber was spoiled by an unusual number of spectators. Balthazar was there, Jacob beside him. My Chaplain was unusually agitated-looking. A collection of the ranking lords of the land were bunched around: Darkwater, Ironveil, Farseer. Cornelius Oakcrest stood to one side. There had been a rift between him and his fellow conspirators since the vote in the council chamber. Lance, too, was present.

  I frowned at that. He was a knight. A field commander even, leading knights and the defense of Albany. What, I pondered, could possibly entitle him to be in this hallowed room?

  I looked at him a moment. Here, in the sterile white light of the Pod Chamber, I could see the differences clearly that had suggested themselves before. He was not wearing his armor and I could see the bulge of muscle beneath his tunic. He had developed a great deal since the Choosing. A great deal. Yet, with that enhancement, there was deterioration as well. His skin was pallid, those dark rings under his eyes only deeper. I realized suddenly that he was no longer the handsome specimen he’d been before. Those good looks were marred by something sickly.

  Balthazar said, “You’re awake. And no time to spare.”

  I bolted forward, pausing as pain clawed at me. I looked down, through the mists of the Pod, took a moment to assess myself. Mine had been the death of a thousand cuts. Many small wounds had hurt me and my suit. This was good. Small wounds healed quickly in the Pod. Taking stock of my body and my armor I could feel that most had faded. I wasn’t back to a hundred percent but I was close.

  I said, “Tanks! The Tanks are coming. A whole column, more than we’ve got in the entire city.”

  Lord Darkwater nodded. “Yes, we know. We risked The Eagle to track their progress and they’re driving directly at us. Not under Footfield, so it’s slower going.”

  I said, “No Footfields? Wait, I didn’t see any Griidlords at the assault on the Fort…”

  Lance said, “None were seen at any point. The Horde and the Tanks seem to have traveled without the aid of Griidlords.”

  I paused. Danefer had surely been wise to the fact that Enki was feeding me information through the eyes of the Griidlords. I hadn’t really considered that he might send forces out without the aid of Footfields, even with that knowledge. Marching from Buffalo to Boston, in the high summer heat, would have taken days and a grievous toll on the forces. But then, I’d seen their eyes. He’d been feeding them some chemical cocktail that made them fearless. Still, it was so far from the convention of how we fought wars. And once the surprise had been sprung, why not send Griidlords to ferry the tank column to our gates faster?

  I said, “How long until they get here? What of the Oracle chamber—have we control back over our Order?”

  Balthazar answered me. “At their current rate they could be at our walls in five hours or so. The battle tanks are pre-fall. Not immediately pre-fall, thank the Oracle, but recent enough. We don’t recognize them, but they don’t seem to have a refueling convoy so we expect they can make it here on what’s in their tanks, whatever that is.”

  I muttered, “Where did he get them?”

  Balthazar said, “To answer your other question, the answer is no. The Tower is the only site of Order in the city. The outer walls are defenseless, in relative terms. We’re trying to deploy catapults and trebuchets, but it’s taking time. The cannons, the snipers, our own tanks, are all useless.”

  Stolen story; please report.

  I looked at him. “But that means… we can’t fight them at all! We’ll be dust in their wind.”

  Balthazar shrugged, “We will mount the defense we can. I prevailed on your man Austin to go to Pittsburgh and appeal to the priests there to use the Oracle to communicate with Chicago and plead for priests to terminate the Slaving that Mario put in place. I can’t spare the Griidlords. In this situation, the five of you are, in fact, the only hope we have of staving the tanks off until priests can be arranged.”

  Ironveil said, “Or having a leg to stand on until we come to terms.”

  Balthazar shot her a glare. “We will stand and fight.”

  Ironveil snapped, “We’ll stand and die. Even with five Griidlords there’s no making up for the imbalance in power. Your war is ended, Lord Supreme. I’ll grant you that it wasn’t entirely your fault. None could be fully prepared for the treachery in the Tower. But the facts are the facts, they have us now.”

  I said, “What’s the best-case scenario for getting priests?”

  Balthazar shrugged. “Two days would probably be a miracle. Maybe less if the Archon sends the priests directly from Pittsburgh. But the worst scenario would involve an investigation into the event before new priests are even vaguely considered.”

  I shook my head. “Balthazar… we can’t fight those tanks for two days. There are so many. They’ll drive right through the gates.”

  The Lord Supreme only stared at me. It was as though he was trying to will me to believe that there was a way out of this. I could see that he would rather die fighting than see his tenure as Lord Supreme end in total failure.

  I stared at the glass wall, showing only blackness now. How long had I been out? How long had it been since our escape from Albany. I said, “The Green Men? The Horde? What of them?”

  Balthazar said, “The bulk of them are trailing behind the tank column. Clusters have broken off, some holding Albany, others spreading out into the countryside.”

  I winced. Those clusters in the countryside would soon be tearing villages apart for food, booze and women. Worse still was the thought that the bulk of a hundred thousand brutes would soon have all of Boston at their disposal.

  It brought the image of the citizens, defenseless, in Albany. I had failed them. I hadn’t been strong enough. For all of my power, I didn’t have enough. My thoughts flickered to Anubis, and what it could offer me, what it would cost me. If I’d done as Enki urged and let Anubis finish the task that Sempronius had started, would I have had the strength then to keep those people safe.

  That was ash now. I could dwell on their fates again when this was over. For now I needed to make their loss mean something. Olaf had pulled me from the carcass of the fort because I had the potential to save many tens of thousands more lives than the ones lost there. I glanced at him and felt troubled by his dark, brooding stare.

  The Lords were arguing. I paid them little heed. The discussion was mostly as expected. Ironveil and Farseer demanding we come to terms with Buffalo. Balthazar arguing that, with our Tower already slaved, those terms would be historically unfavorable, if they were even accepted at all. Cornelius stood apart, not involving himself. It was Lord Darkwater who surprised me, urging caution, suggesting that there might be merit in seeing how the next hours played out. Lance stood behind his father, his expression nearly a smile. Not quite. Nearly.

  I murmured, “Mario said that Boston was a den of F’ael. Do you know who that is?”

  I watched their faces closely. I couldn’t discern a blip on any of them, except one. Lance’s eye twitched. Cornelius ventured, uncertainly, “Is that… the deity of the Children of the Fountain?”

  I nodded. “That’s why Mario betrayed us. Did Danefer plant that thought in his head? The fact that the Tower was slaved to Buffalo makes it clear this was arranged. Where are his Griidlords now?”

  But I knew where they were. I knew what was about to happen. This was Danefer’s grand maneuver. Had he been incapable of triggering Mario to act before now? Had he magicked these battle tanks out of thin air in the last hours? No. However he’d acquired them and recruited Mario, it stood to reason that he’d had this death blow at his disposal for some time. Why then had he endured weeks of this war?

  He was nearly ready. The plan he’d set in motion from the beginning was nearing completion. I thought of Cleveland, destroyed by an entropy storm to prevent the activation of that strange relic. I shuddered.

  I stepped out of the Pod. I rolled my shoulders, flexed my body. It felt alright. Not perfect, but okay. Okay enough for what I planned.

  I said, “I know where to find priests.”

  All eyes went to me. Some hopeful, some doubtful. Lady Ironveil looked on me with scorn.

  Balthazar said, “Please, do go on.”

  I smiled thinly. I took them all in, let them regard me. My thin smile flashed into something brighter, masking the dread I felt. I let the hunger for action and violence consume the doubt. I let the desire to save the people of Boston, and very possibly the people of Buffalo, from a terrible end. I let the thought of Perdinger, waiting there, absolutely fuel me.

  I showed them my teeth, part smile, part savage snarl. “We’ll find priests in the Tower of Buffalo.”