Calm down.
I took a deep breath and leaned forward, releasing the tension in my shoulders. It had become a huge pain; easy as that, it was gone. I felt the blood pounding in the swollen skin under the plastic straps.
Tick. Tock. Clock. Tick. Tock. Drop.
Tick. Tock. Clock. Tick. Tock. Drop.
Calm down. I let go of my fists.
A Rider was coming.
Cameras were on me. Watching me. To see how well I did.
Tick. Tock. Clock. Tick. Tock. Drop.
Tick. Tock. Clock. Tick. Tock. Drop.
I could do this part. This part. The waiting.
All my life, the waiting.
This part, I could do.
And so. Slowly the press closed. The crushing block came in front of my face. There were some moments when I could see nothing but its ancient grey-brown wood. An iron band brushed by my nose. And then it was farther down, and I could see over it.
Tolliver Burr was bobbing heel to toe like an expectant father. Buckle had her head tilted, conversing with the voice in her ear. Armenteros just stood.
Tick. Tock. Clock.
Tick. Tock. Drop.
Sometimes the panic flew up in me and my hands shuddered and clenched. But I did well enough.
The press was at my shoulders now. I could no longer see my hands.
I twisted around to try to see the Precepture hall, but its windows were blank.
On my left, the pens of milk goats, the ripening pumpkins.
On my right, the garden terrace.
Straight ahead, the hole of the camera. The blue flaregun sky.
Tick. Tock. Clock.
Tick. Tock. Drop.
What would it feel like when—
My arms jerked against the straps. I could feel the blood trickling under plastic.
Tick. Tock. Clock.
Tick. Tock. Drop.
The press was under my collarbone, now. How thick was it? Was the bottom of it nine inches from my hands? Six?
Stay calm, Greta. Stay calm. A Rider is coming.
The plume. Finally I could see the plume. I grabbed hold of it with my eyes.
Tick. Tock. Clock.
Tick. Tock. Drop.
“Confirm that?” said Buckle, nodding to herself. She tilted her head. She looked up. “General. There’s a single horseback rider, incoming.”
“The UN,” growled Armenteros.
Talis.
There was a pause. The press dropped again.
“The Swan Riders aren’t armed,” said Buckle. “Crossbows only.”
“Traditionally,” said Armenteros.
What was happening here was far from traditional.
Tick. Tock. Clock.
Tick. Tock. Drop.
I bent my wrists, letting the straps dig into the backs of my hands. I raised my fingers as far as I could. The tips brushed wood.
Tick. Tock. Clock.
Tick. Tock.
I missed a breath, that time, as the press dropped.
Armenteros shuffled over behind Burr, looking at the monitor.
Inches. I had inches.
Tick. Tock. Clock.
Tick. Tock. Drop.
“No word from Halifax?”
“Lots of words,” said Burr, tapping his own earbud. “Not the ones you want.”
Tick. Tock. Clock.
Tick. Tock. Drop.
“Could they have seen the Rider?”
Burr shook his head. “No chance. We’ve got transmissions snowed under for a hundred miles around.”
Tick. Tock. Clock.
Tick. Tock. Drop.
“Should I talk to the queen?” Even Armenteros had uncertainty in her voice now.
Tolliver Burr laughed. “This is what we’re saying to the queen,” he said. I saw the iris flex as the camera fixed on my face. “Look at that; she’s perfect.”
Tick. Tock. Clock.
Tick. Tock. Drop.
Even knowing the camera was there did not keep me from reacting when the press brushed the top of my fists. A wild howl came from somewhere, and I pulled backward on the straps with all my strength.
“See?” said Burr. “The queen will break; I’d stake my next project on it.”
Armenteros shuddered, watching me, watching the press. “You stake more than that, Burr.”
Tick. Tock. Clock.
Tick. Tock. Drop.
I pushed my hands against the stone, making them as flat as I could. I felt the air whistling around them, the wind compressed in the tiny space between press and stone.
“General,” said Buckle. “The Rider is here.”
My head whipped around. My breath was fast and shuddering, out of time, out of time. It was three more drops before the horse topped the ridge.
The Rider came pounding down the slope from the whirligig generators and pulled the horse to a rearing, prancing stop near the cameras. The creature’s ribs were heaving; foam flew from its mouth as it tossed its head.