“The Cyc can explain along the way,” Ty said.
Arjun held his gaze on Ty for a moment, then glanced away with a diffident nod. Roskos Yur, by contrast, looked hard at him, and wouldn’t stop looking. After a few moments of this, Ty felt obliged to meet the Teklan’s eye. Now that Ty could scan this man’s insignia more carefully, he could see that he was part of a unit stationed at Nunivak: one of the forward Blue outposts, right up against the border. It was a byword for remote and isolated. It made Qayaq seem like a metropolis. Full of Snake Eaters always being sent off on crazy missions.
“That’s not really what he’s asking, sir,” said Roskos Yur. “He’s really asking, who the fuck are you?”
“Sergeant Major Yur—” Arjun said, in a tone of protest.
But Yur would not be stopped. “And don’t tell us you’re a bartender, sir.”
“The late Dr. Hu handpicked Mr. Lake for inclusion in the Seven,” Arjun pointed out.
“And now he’s ramrodding this—” Yur looked about at the group and gave out an incredulous snort. “I don’t even know how to describe it. ‘Ragtag’ makes it sound like more than it is.”
“He led them out of a difficult situation,” Arjun said.
“A difficult situation for which he’s partly responsible, sir,” Yur shot back.
“And at the moment he knows more about the Diggers, and the situation on the ground, than anyone. I assume he requested those objects for a reason, which will be explained as we go.”
Ty held up a hand. “Sergeant Major Yur doesn’t trust me because my allegiance isn’t clear to him. Fair enough.”
Yur’s face softened a little, and his gaze flicked to one side for a moment. Taking advantage of this break in the staredown, Ty turned to face Esa Arjun.
The Ivyn made the tiniest movement that was still recognizable as shaking his head no. Once he was certain that Ty had caught it, he looked at Roskos Yur. “Sergeant Major,” Arjun said quietly, “there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
Yur snorted. “Is that a fancy way of saying it’s above my pay grade, sir?”
“Yes.”
“I just want to know if it’s some kind of fucking dukh shit, sir.”
“Oh, is that all?” Ty asked. “Why didn’t you say so?”
“No,” Arjun said, the tension suddenly gone from his voice. “There’s no dukh involved.”
“Because that bar he works for—”
“It’s not connected with any established kupol.”
“Then who the hell is it connected with, sir?” Yur demanded. “I made some inquiries with friends of mine in intel. That bar makes no fucking sense as a business proposition. Its ownership structure is . . . unusual. Connections to Red, I’m told.”
“One of the Owners happens to be of part A?dan ancestry,” Ty admitted, “but be careful of making unwarranted assumptions about where his loyalties lie.”
“Does this have something to do with the Purpose?” Roskos Yur demanded.
Neither Ty nor Arjun answered. After a few moments of this silence, Yur heaved a sigh, then continued in a more moderate tone: “Never mind. I see it now. It’s some kind of Purpose thing. Above my pay grade. You should have just told me.” He drew himself up and saluted. “What are my orders, sir?”
“We march to the sea,” Ty said, “following the Cyc’s directions. And moving as fast as we can. Complicating matters is that our Moiran may have to be carried.”
“Actually,” said Langobard, who had been loping in their direction and was now in earshot, “we may have to work rather hard to keep up with her.” He extended one long arm, pointing down the slope of the meadow.
The first thing they all saw was the huge form of Beled, charging downhill at the near-sprint that, as they all knew, he could maintain for hours. Far ahead of him, then, they saw Kath Amalthova Three, moving even faster.