Redana’s instincts manage to kick in. A little belatedly, but still they kick, bucking like the engines of an old runabout. She stands up with a flourish and hands Acolyte Bian of the Fractal Goddess the blueprint she managed to get knocked out and ready for the meeting.

Bian inserts the blueprint into the Revelation Niche, and the surface of the wall it controls ripples into black and white, indenting where her pen pressed hard against the paper, until Redana’s handiwork is plain for all to see. It is the head of a star dragon; it is the deconstruction of a Hoplite into planes and angles. It is modular armor plating and an engine system inspired by putting her head together with Magos Theodorus of the Infinite Throttle. She has had Documentor Agatha annotate it in her precise, spidery notation, each piece of the design laid bare in clustered jumbles of letters, numbers and sigils. (She doesn’t know them yet. But she [i]wants[/i] to.)

“If the Azora want us,” she says, into the semi-hush of whirring processors and the click of lenses, “they’ll have to catch us and pierce our hide first. [i]Motion is the impossible miracle.[/i][1] Let’s see the Tricorns handle [i]this.[/i]” She crosses her arms and grins, and for a moment she is more like her mother than she could knowingly bear.

***

[1]: [i]The Mysteries of Velocity,[/i] Winged Sandal Press: Magi Timatheo of the Gracious Message, The Anchorite of Diana, et al.