Perak asked. “That’s about it,” I said, though the latest boom-shudder almost drowned me out. We were holed up in the lab again, and Perak kept fiddling with the pain rig as we talked – he might be Archdeacon but he was always going to be an engineer first. I was beginning to wonder when he was sleeping, when he was doing anything at all except be Archdeacon. He had a daughter, a niece I’d still not met, and I had to wonder if he ever saw her either. I was pleased to see this news energised him though, brought a bit of life back to his eyes. “So those machines are definitely on their way, or will be, but we can’t say for sure when? They might be further away, but then again they might be closer?” He stopped fiddling and started to pace, his hands gripping his hair like he was trying to pull the answer out of his head. “Namrat’s bollocks, Rojan.” When the Archdeacon uses words like that, you know you’re in trouble.
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