Hansen met him at the temple steps again, and even Justin was proud of the poker face worn by the young priest. Hansen gave no sign that the two had any connection outside of this escort service. In fact, the young Arcadian did a good job of looking as though this were just another irritating errand. He brought Justin back to the Grand Disciple’s apartments and then left with a bow when dismissed.

The Grand Disciple was decked out in his bejeweled regalia once more, which he apparently needed to convey power when dealing with underlings and diplomats, rather than young girls brought to him without choice. He had a chilled decanter of white wine that Justin actually found nauseating after his recent malaise, but etiquette and keeping up with this farce required a good show. He’d sworn he’d be in perfect health tonight and didn’t want word getting back to Hansen of any weakness.

“I trust you’re feeling better?” asked the Grand Disciple. “I was so distressed to hear you’d taken ill. I said many prayers for you.”

“Thank you.” Justin made himself comfortable on the love seat and accepted a glass of wine. “I think I’ve just overindulged in too much food while I’ve been here. I don’t get this kind of cooking at home. In fact, I usually skip meals.”

“That’s half your problem. We never do that—in fact, our dinner should be here in an hour. You Gemmans don’t marry nearly as much as you should. I’m sure you wouldn’t skip meals if you had a wife to take care of your needs,” said the priest.

“I have a sister who tries to,” Justin said. “One who gives me plenty of grief when I slack off.”

The Grand Disciple arched an eyebrow at that, probably because no Arcadian woman gave any Arcadian man grief about anything.

“Well, just so long as you’re feeling better. I feared we wouldn’t have a chance to discuss my proposition before you left.”

Justin took what he hoped was a polite sip and set the glass down.

“Well, you’re in luck. I’ve actually talked to my people about it, and they’re in favor of it—with some modifications.”

“Oh?” asked the Grand Disciple, not sounding entirely surprised.

Justin could imagine he was expecting all sorts of restrictions, so what came next was undoubtedly astonishing.

“You see,” Justin began, “I don’t know how much you know about our media or politics, but image is everything over there—especially to guys like Lucian. Senator Darling. He’s up for election, you see, and this trip is going to go a long way to help his image, showing how proactive he is about peace between our countries. And while a trade negotiation or promise of a future reciprocal trip would look good, it’s not going to have the impact of immediate action that Lucian wants.

He’s got his heart set on a big impression, and he wants us to return later this week with something that’ll make people stop and stare. He wants us to come back with Arcadians.”

The lies came easily, and if it all worked out, Justin hoped he’d be able to sound just as convincing to Lucian.

“This week?” asked the Grand Disciple.

Justin nodded. “He’s afraid if we leave with only verbal promises of something, then someone will get cold feet later. But if we can come back with a delegation, your people ready to share with ours, just as we’ve shared with you . . . well, he thinks it’s going to seal the election.

That’s what he’s got his heart set on, even though I told him that’s probably not enough time for you to get together the kind of scholars you wanted to have come teach us about your culture.”

The idea had come to Justin after talking to Hansen. If they were going to catch a potential Arcadian plot, then time was of the essence.

Justin didn’t want to leave things hanging with promises of a visit that might go awry. He didn’t want to leave enough time for Hansen to change his mind—or get caught. From what Justin understood, the defector-trained hackers were already selected and ready. It would just be a question if the Grand Disciple was ready to let them go sooner than expected in order to aid Lucian’s alleged dreams of power.

“It might be possible,” the Grand Disciple said at last. “Certainly it would disrupt the plans of some of the individuals I’d thought to send, but I’m sure they’d be accommodating in the goal of helping diplomatic relations. To be honest, I expected a long drawn-out battle over this . . . you’d sounded so uncertain about anyone speaking about Nehitimar in your country.”

“Ah, yes.” Justin put on a sheepish look. “There is one other slight complication. Some people in our party are still concerned about the idea of anyone teaching about your religion—even academically. And, unfortunately, there are also those who haven’t forgotten tragic military, uh, entanglements between our nations. They’re afraid that a group of men coming in might reinforce harsh images—even though I’ve told them that’s just how things are done. The men do business here. So what Lucian was wondering was if we could soften the image of your people by having your delegates’ families or wives accompany them.

They wouldn’t be active in any of the real diplomatic work, of course.

They’d have peripheral roles, just as our women have had here. See some sights, stay well-chaperoned. But the hope is that by showing that side of your culture, it’ll warm up public perception of you—which Lucian naturally hopes will warm up public perception of him.”

Justin gave a small laugh at that, hoping that it sounded like he and the Grand Disciple were in on some private joke together. Poor Lucian, he thought. I almost feel bad for all the things I’m claiming he’s said.

The thing is, noted Horatio, that setting aside the conspiracy against your country, the rest of the logic might actually appeal to him.

It would be good press for him to show up with an Arcadian peace delegation.

The Grand Disciple’s face was lined with thought, but it seemed to be more about solving a problem than refusing. “That would be highly irregular—and also difficult on such a short time frame. It’s already tight enough just getting our men together in a few days’ time. You’re certain—and Senator Darling’s certain—that your government would allow this? These are big promises to make, and he hasn’t been elected yet.”

It was a fair point, and Justin could only hope that—once he’d convinced Lucian of this madness—the senator would have enough connections back home to get the Arcadians admittance at the border. It was a big gamble.

“He can do it,” Justin stated. “But if this is all too much for you, I can tell him—”

“No, no.” The Grand Disciple got to his feet. “All things are possible in Nehitimar, and this may be the god’s way of expediting something I’ve long hoped for. We’ll get our lecturers together—and most certainly their concubines, if not their wives—in time, but it’s something I’ll have to start work on immediately.” He glanced at an ornate clock on the wall. “You’ve got me so worked up, I nearly forgot dinner is coming. How impolite. We can do that—then business.”

“No, no,” said Justin, welcoming the chance to escape small talk with the priest. “This is more important, and it might do me good to go easy on the food.”

The two of them hashed out a few more logistical details, like the number of the party and how they’d be distributed throughout different cities in the RUNA. Justin made up more grand claims from Lucian and uneasily hoped he’d be able to return to Carl’s soon because the senator was going to need a heads up about this sooner rather than later. That, and Justin’s Exerzol was wearing off. He wanted to get out of show mode and seek the comfort of his bed. He could talk to Lucian in pajamas.

Hansen arrived to take Justin out, and the Grand Disciple brightened upon seeing his assistant. “Excellent. As soon as you’ve taken Dr. March to the car, we can discuss some very exciting plans.”

“Ah. Forgive me, your piousness.” Hansen bowed low. “But the driver’s sick, and I haven’t had time to find a replacement. I was going to take him myself. But if you have need of me . . .”

The Grand Disciple frowned, though it was obviously no fault of Hansen’s. “No, take him, and if he needs to pick up any food on the way home, do so. I can talk to Cowlitz first.”

“Cowlitz?” asked Hansen politely.

“Yes, yes. Looks like we have some exciting news. The delegation I’ve long hoped for to their country will be going forward—much sooner than we expected. I’ll need Cowlitz to make sure his people are briefed, and you’ll need to finalize yours so be thinking about that tonight. Young Hansen here is one of those who’ll be coming with you,” the Grand Disciple explained to Justin. To Hansen, he continued,

“Additionally, the parameters of the trip have changed, and our delegates will be bringing their wives.”

“Some of us don’t have wives, your piousness,” Hansen reminded him.

“Then you’ll bring concubines. I’m sure Elaina will enjoy the trip.

We’ll discuss it later.” The Grand Disciple was so caught up in his plans now that he didn’t notice the transformation that took place in Hansen’s face at the mention of Elaina. “Now get Dr. March home, and hurry back. There’s much to be done.”

Hansen didn’t say a word to Justin as he led him out, and it wasn’t until they were alone in the car that the younger man exhaled in relief.

“You did it. You really did it.”

“My god did it,” said Justin, remembering the role he was playing.

Hansen nodded eagerly as he started the car. “I knew that . . . somehow, even though my logic said not to trust you, my heart believed. I knew that you—and he—would come through. That’s why I went ahead and told the others.”

Justin had started to relax, looking forward to his bedroom, but those words drew him up short. “The others?”

“You told me to find those who are dissatisfied to join us, and I did. I mean, I knew about them long ago, and now we’re going to meet them. Your driver getting sick isn’t a coincidence, I’m afraid, but you needing dinner is—a happy one. It’ll explain why we’re out so long.”

“So . . . wait. Where are we going, exactly?” Justin suddenly wished he had Mae after all. There’d been no danger in the temple, but now, going off into the unknown with Hansen, Justin felt much less secure.

“To the home of a friend of mine,” Hansen told him. “A great man.

A priest retired from active service who wants to talk to you. He’s almost right on the way back to your house, so it works out nicely.”

Justin wasn’t so sure about that, but he’d made an ally of Hansen and had to deal with the consequences. He just hoped the other man’s love for his concubine would keep him loyal. “Who was the Cowlitz guy that the Grand Disciple mentioned?” Too late, Justin realized he should’ve known that if he was truly all-knowing, but fortunately, Hansen was too excited to notice the slip.

“The defector. The three men he trained will come with us and pretend to be lecturers like the others.”

“So they’re the actual threats here. The rest are your guys?”

“Yes. And they’ll be thrilled to bring their women,” said Hansen.

“Thank you. Thank your god—I look forward to learning more about him!”

It occurred to Justin then that this plan involved letting a large number of Arcadian refugees into the RUNA. When he’d originally left Panama, he’d tried to get visas for all of Tessa’s family and been denied. He had to hope Arcadians held more political value, or he would have seriously led poor Hansen and these “others” astray.

Having regrets? asked Horatio.

No, Justin told him. If we stop them from carrying out a plot to take down our infrastructure, it’ll be well worth the cost of a dozen refugees.

He had nightmarish visions of being led to a shack in the woods, but the house Hansen took him to was a well-kept suburban residence with less of a farm feel than Carl’s place had. And although the home had a fair amount of privacy from its neighbors, it was still in enough of a neighborhood to give Justin some sense of normality.

At least until he stepped inside.

There had to be nearly fifty people crammed inside the house’s living room, something he’d been totally unprepared for since there were only three other cars in the driveway. While some showed higher quality clothing reflective of the upper class, most appeared to be from Arcadia’s struggling masses. He had no time to ponder the secrecy that must’ve gone into this meeting because they all fell silent at his and Hansen’s entrance. More remarkable still, Justin noticed that a third of those gathered were women, and although they wore the traditional modest clothing and hovered near the crowd’s edge, there was something fresh and different about the way they interacted with their men here, compared to what Justin had observed so far in Arcadia.

These weren’t just struggling Arcadians, Justin suspected. They were dissatisfied ones. An elderly man with snow white hair came forward slowly, hobbling on a cane. The smile he gave them was warm, and he embraced Hansen warmly.

“Timothy, I’m so glad you made it—and so glad you brought our esteemed guest.” The old man extended his hand to Justin. “I’m Gideon Wexler. Welcome to my home. If there’s anything I can get you, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“He hasn’t eaten,” said Hansen.

Justin shook his head. “No, don’t worry about that. Hansen, what’s going on? I asked you to find others to go with us who thought like you . . . but all these people can’t come to the RUNA.”