our senior professors. He is speaking to a group of advanced students on the topic of—”
“Oh, thank you so much for the offer,” Miss Pendennis said, “but Miss Edwards is simply withering for want of fresh air. We’re on our way for a walk in your institute’s lovely gardens. You needn’t trouble yourself on our account.”
Ben looked at Emily’s walking dress. He smiled gently.
“Of course,” he said. “The weather is quite fine, and I will be happy to show you the Institute’s conservatory.”
Miss Pendennis frowned slightly. “We hate to put you to the trouble,” she said. “I’m sure preparing for the Grand Symposium will require all of your attention.”
“The arrangements will be seen to,” Ben said. “The Sophos has asked that I allow nothing to interfere with my attendance upon the Institute’s two most important guests.”
“I’m sure he did,” Miss Pendennis muttered, giving Emily’s shoulder a final brush and handing her a parasol as if it were a club.
“All right, walk fast and see if we can’t give him the slip,” Miss Pendennis whispered to Emily as they emerged into the sunshine. Ben, for his part, was quite obliging. He lingered behind, giving the two women a wide berth for their private conversation.
“Now listen. We obviously won’t have much time to go over this in depth, but we need to have a plan of attack for tonight. The one thing you have to remember is that you have as much say in this symposium as anyone else. More, in fact, because you’re the one with the rock in your hand. So have you given any thought to what you think should be done with it?”
Emily drew her brows together but said nothing. She reached up and felt for the hardness of the acorn around her throat. But as she did, she knew that Komé couldn’t give her an answer … just as Miss Pendennis couldn’t, nor Mirabilis, nor even Stanton. She knew, suddenly, that this question was for her, and it always had been.
“Do you think we should recommend that the power be returned somehow?” Miss Pendennis prompted softly. “Or maybe it was accreted and shed by some poorly understood geological mechanism—in which case, returning it might be ill-advised.”
Miss Pendennis’ words faded as Emily stopped, placing her hand on the rough bark of a large tree. She could feel life thrumming through it. She felt her eyes unfocus as she remembered Komé’s words …
You must allow your mind to stretch to the size of the stars, for that is the size of Ososolyeh’s dreams.
You must forget that time exists.
You must forget that you can die.
“The Sini Mira,” Emily said distantly. “The Sons of the Earth.”
Miss Pendennis whistled. The sound of it brought Emily back to consciousness. She focused on the woman’s face.
“Hand it over to a bunch of Russian Eradicationists?” Miss Pendennis shook her head. “Caul’s paranoid enough about a bunch of extinct Aztecs. Thank goodness he’s not here to hear you say that.”
“Miss Edwards is perhaps referring to the Sini Mira’s well-known research correlating the exponential increase in the human use of magic over the past two hundred years with the increased production of Black Exunge,” Ben’s voice broke in softly. Emily and Miss Pendennis turned, both unaware that the man had come up close behind them. “The same research suggests that the Mantic Anastomosis possesses a consciousness—an utterly alien, nonhuman consciousness, but a consciousness nonetheless. Taking those findings together, perhaps it is possible that the appearance of the stone was not merely a geologic accident.”
“A consciousness?” Miss Pendennis snorted. “The Mantic Anastomosis is nothing but a huge web of rock.”
Emily looked at Ben. There was a soft challenge in his eyes, as if he was waiting for her to say something. After a long moment of silence, he looked over at Miss Pendennis.
“I’m sure you know better than me, miss,” he said.
The conservatory was a large, ornate white building with vast panes of glass that gleamed in the late morning sunshine. As they walked up the path approaching it, Emily saw men in servant gray sweeping broken glass from the slate flagstones. It was the first tangible evidence Emily had seen of the attacks of the previous night.
Inside the conservatory it was close and sweltering. The air was heavy with the rich perfume of a hundred kinds of brilliant blooming orchids. The orchids seemed to be Ben’s special passion. As they moved along the smooth pebbled walks he showed them dozens of varieties in all colors: deep luxurious