already gone too far. The Judge was the last one on the Council with the power to openly oppose them. Even when they had his twin, toward the end, he still stood firm on the taboo, because he knew the public wouldn’t stand for it if he didn’t. So they killed his twin, and him, as soon as they figured they didn’t need him anymore.”
“What about the others on the Council?” Piper said. “Do they know what the Reformer and the General are doing? What they’re planning?”
“Not many. Most have given their tacit approval: they’re not looking too closely. They’re happy to benefit if it works, and they don’t want to be implicated if it all goes wrong.”
What a luxury it would be, I thought, to choose ignorance. To shrug off the burden of knowledge.
“Then there are those with no choice,” he said. “Those who didn’t get to their own twins before the Reformer and the General did.”
“What about your twin?” I asked.
“I have her,” he said. “Not in the Keeping Rooms, but under guard, with soldiers I can trust.”
I tensed my neck muscles against the shudder that rose in me. There were still nights when I dreamed I was back in the cell at the Keeping Rooms, the formless days passing, and me trapped forever, a prisoner of time.
“You think that’s better than the Keeping Rooms?”
“It’s safer,” he said. “For her and me. The way things are at the moment, I don’t think I could protect her in Wyndham. Not even in the Keeping Rooms.”
“Why have you sought us out?” I said.
“For the last few years, since I realized the extent of their obsession with the machines, I’ve been trying to gather information, learn as much as I can about their plans. I’ve tried using other seers. There’s only a handful of them. Their powers vary so much—some are of no practical use, and most of them are broken.” He said it so offhandedly, as though when the madness claimed us, a seer was no more than a cartwheel with a broken spar, or a rusted bucket.
“You, though.” He turned back to me. “From what I hear, you could be of some use. And if you’re working with the resistance”—he nodded at Piper and Zoe—“then there’s even more to be gained from some kind of cooperation.”
“I’ve told you,” Piper said, enunciating each syllable slowly. “I’m not in charge anymore.”
“You don’t want to work to stop the tanks, then?”
“What is it that you think you want from us?” I interrupted.
The four of us were circling one another, a wary dance among the poles, while his soldiers watched from a distance.
“I need your help,” he said, “to stop your twin and the General, and their pursuit of the machines.”
It seemed absurd. He was a Councilor, soldiers and money at his command, and powerful beyond what any of us, ragged, thin and exhausted, could imagine.
“You want help?” Piper said. “Then ask your Council cronies.”
The Ringmaster laughed. “You really think we’re one big happy family, sitting around the Council chamber backslapping one another?” He turned from Piper to me. “When you were in the Keeping Rooms, who did you think the Reformer was protecting you from? A Councilor’s greatest enemies are those closest to him—those with the most to gain if he slips from power. Look at what happened to the Judge.”
“Why would we help you maneuver against them?” Piper said. “You’ve only come to us because you’re being edged out of power, and you’re desperate.”
“Edged out of power?” The Ringmaster met Piper’s gaze. “You’d know how that feels.”
I interrupted him. “You chose to work with them, before the machines drove you apart. Why would we work with somebody who hates Omegas?”
“Because I can offer your people a better life than the tanks. The refuge system has worked well for decades, as a humane way of dealing with the Omega problem. Maintained by tithes, it’s a workable solution. Without your brother and the General, things could continue the way they used to.”
“That’s why I could never work with you,” I said. “There isn’t an Omega problem. Only those problems that the Council’s created for us: the tithes. Pushing us further and further out, to land where nothing will grow. The branding, and all the other restrictions that make it nearly impossible to live.”
“That’s all immaterial now. We both know the only thing that matters is stopping the tanks.”
“Then why didn’t you just come with more soldiers,” I said, “and take me back to