I have come to the borders of sleep,

The unfathomable deep

Forest where all must lose
Their way, however straight.
Edward Thomas

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CHAPTER ONE

Early one evening, Mposi Akinya went to visit his sister. He took a car
from the parliamentary building in the heart of Guochang, out through
the government quarter and across the residential districts, until at
last he reached the secured compound surrounding her house. He
walked to the gate and presented his identification, even though the
guards were ready to usher him past without a second glance at his
credentials.
He made his way to the entrance, knocked on the door and waited
until Ndege opened it. For a moment she blocked his entry, standing
with her arms folded across her chest, her head cocked to one side, her
expression betokening neither warmth nor welcome. She was still taller
than him, even in their mutual old age. Mposi had spent a lifetime
being looked down on.
I brought greenbread. He offered her the paperwrapped loaves. Still
fresh.
She took the package, opened the paper, sniffed doubtfully at the
contents. I wasnt expecting you until later in the week.
I know its a little unexpected, but I promise this wont take long.
Good. I have reading to be doing.
When do you ever not have reading to be doing, sister?
After a moment, Ndege relented and admitted him into her house,
then led him to her kitchen. She must have been sitting at the table, for
she had her black notebooks laid out on it, open to reveal their dense
scribbled columns of strange symbols and the sketchy relationships be
tween them. Except for the notebooks and a small box of medicines to
counter oxygen toxicity, the table was bare. Mposi took a chair opposite
the one Ndege had been using.
I should have told you I was on my way, but I couldnt keep this to
myself a moment longer.
A promotion? Another expansion of your powers?
For once, its not about me.
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She looked at him for a moment, still not sitting down. I suppose
youre expecting me to boil some chai?
No, not today, thank you. And save that greenbread for yourself. He
patted the plump padding of his belly. I ate at the office.
Before easing her tall, thin frame into the chair, Ndege gathered the
notebooks off the table and set them carefully on her bookcase. Then
she faced him and made an impatient beckoning gesture with her
hands. Out with it, whatever it is. Bad news?
Im honestly not sure.
Something to do with Goma?
Only indirectly. Mposi settled his hands on the table, unsure where
to start. What Im about to disclose is a matter of the highest secrecy.
Its known to only a few people on Crucible, and I would be very glad if
it remained that way.
Ill be sure not to mention it to my many hundreds of visitors.
You do receive the occasional visitor. We went to a lot of trouble to
allow you that luxury.
Yes, and you never let me forget it.
Her tone had been sharp, and perhaps she realised as much. She swal
lowed, creased her lips in immediate regret. In the silence that ensued,
Mposi found his gaze wandering around the kitchen, taking in its blank,
bare surfaces. It struck him that his sister had begun to turn her life into
an exhibit of itself a static tableau reduced to the uncluttered essen
tials. His own government had made her a prisoner, but Ndege herself
was complicit in the exercise, happily discarding her remaining luxuries
and concessions.
Somewhere in the house a clock ticked.
Im sorry, she said, finally. I know you worked hard to help me. But
being here on my own, knowing what the world thinks of me
Weve picked up a signal.
The oddness of this statement drew a frown from Ndege. A what?
A radio transmission very faint, but clearly artificial from a solar
system tens of lightyears away that no one from any of the settled
systems is supposed to have reached or explored yet. Interestingly, the
transmissions strength definitely tailed off the further you moved from
the systems centre meaning it was aimed at us, not broadcast in all
directions. More than that: it appears to concern you.
For the first time since his arrival he had at least a measure of her in
terest, guarded and provisional as it was.
Me?
Quite unambiguous. It mentions your forename.
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There are lots of people called Ndege.

Not lately there arent. It asked us to send you. Send Ndege, in Swa
hili. Thats the extent of the message. It began, continued repeating for
a matter of hours, then shut off. Were keeping an eye on that part of
space, of course, but weve heard nothing since.
Where?
A system called Gliese 163, about seventy lightyears from us.
Someone or something there went to the trouble of lining up a radio
transmitter and sending us this message.
Ndege absorbed the information with the quiet concentration that
was so thoroughly her own. Over a lifetime together, Mposi had learned
to recognise their differences as well as their similarities. He was a
speaker, a reactor, a man who needed to be constantly on the move,
constantly engaged in this business or that. Ndege was the reflective
one, the thinker, taking little for granted.
She opened the medical box, plucked out one of the hypodermic
sprays and touched the device to the skin of her forearm.
The oxygen gets to me these days.
Im the same, he said. It was hard in the early years of settlement,
then for a long while I thought I had adapted that I could live without
medical assistance. But the blood carries a memory.
She put the hypodermic back into the box, snapped the lid down and
pushed the container aside.
So who sent this signal?
We dont know.
The clock kept ticking. He studied Ndege, measuring her visible age
against his own, wondering how much of her frailty was the direct result
of time passing, of the physiological stress of adapting to a new planet,
and how much the consequence of her imprisonment and public sham
ing. She was thinner in the face than Mposi, and there was still an
asymmetry there from the minor stroke she had suffered three decades
ago. Her hair was short, thin and white she cut it herself, as far as he
knew. Her skin was a map of old lesions and discolorations. She looked
tremendously old to him, but there were also days when he caught a
glimpse of his own reflection and stared back in startled affront, barely
recognising his own face.
Then again, the light could shift, her expression could change, and
she was his sister again, just as she had been during their brave young
years aboard the holoship.
You think it might be our mother.
Mposi gave the slightest of nods. Its a possibility, nothing more.
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We dont know what became of the Trinity Chiku, Eunice, Dakota.

And you reckon they want me to go out there and meet them?
So it would appear.
Then its a shame no one told them Im a decaying old crone under
permanent house arrest.
Mposi smiled sweetly, refusing to rise to the provocation. Ive always
held that every problem is also an opportunity. You know of the two
starships were building?
They do let me look at the sky sometimes.
Officially, their intended function when theyre completed is to
expand our influence and trade connections to other systems. Unoffi
cially, nothing is set in stone. Feelers have gone out concerning a possible
expedition, using one of the two ships. Given the specific nature of the
signal, there would be a certain logic to having you aboard.
Are you serious?
Perfectly.
Then you understand less about politics than I thought. Im a pariah,
Mposi hated by millions. Theyll have my head on a stick before they
let me leave Guochang, let alone the system.
For now, its all hypothetical. The expedition wont be ready for four
or five years even if we accelerate the preparations. But if you agree to
join, and I work to make it look as if youre offering yourself up for . . .
I dont know, the selfless betterment of Crucible, there could be an im
mediate improvement in the terms of your detention.
Working on peoples opinions youre good at that.
I have my uses. My point, though, is that even by agreeing in spirit,
you would not be automatically obliged to go on the expedition itself.
Any number of things might happen between now and then. We may
run into problems with the ship, or lose the argument to reassign it. We
may discover that the signal is a fluke. You may fail the medical criteria
for skipover. You may even
Die.
I was not going to put it in such blunt terms.
Ive had my share of adventures, brother. So have you. This is where
mine brought me locked up and hated.
You made a single miscalculation.
Which killed four hundred and seventeen thousand people. You
reckon one act will atone for that?
No, but I do believe you have already paid back more than your
share. Think it over, Ndege. Theres no immediate rush.
And am I allowed to discuss this with Goma?
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For now, Id rather you didnt. If and when the expedition becomes
likely, certain aspects of it may be made public. But until then, let this
remain between you and me. Brother and sister, sharing a great respon
sibility the way it has always been.
Her look was sympathetic but also slightly pitying. You miss the old
days.
I try not to. Its an old mans habit, and I dont very much enjoy
being an old man.
Would you go, if the opportunity came?
Theyd never allow it on medical grounds. Im about ready to be pick
led and stuffed into a jar.
And Im not?
You forget, Ndege: they asked for you by name. That rather changes
things.
She gave a lopsided squint, her expression of puzzlement. What do I
have that you dont? We grew up together. Weve experienced the same
things.
Mposi scraped back his chair and stood with a click of knees and a
little involuntary groan of effort. The only way to find out, I suppose,
would be to respond to the signal. He nodded at the package he had
arrived with. Eat that greenbread, while its still fresh.
Thank you, brother.
She rose from her chair and walked him to the door; they embraced
and kissed each other lightly on the cheek, and then she was back inside
and he was alone, outside the house.
He looked beyond the perimeter wall of her compound, out towards
the greening domes and ellipsoids of this early district of Guochang,
with the later structures rising rectangular and pale beyond. The sky
had darkened with the onset of evening and now the rings were starting
to become visible. Present during the day, too, but almost never seen
except at night, they rose from one horizon, vaulted over the zenith and
descended to the opposite horizon a twinkling procession of countless
tiny bright fragments, each following an independent orbit, but none
theless organised into a complex banded flow. A spectacle that could be
beautiful, even enchanting, if one were not aware of its true meaning.
The rings had not been present when people first reached Crucible.
They were a scar the lingering evidence of a single calamitous mistake.
The error had been made with the noblest of intentions, but that did
not render it any more forgivable. In those hot and heady days, when
the laws of this new world were still being formulated, many were pre
pared to see Ndege executed.
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Mposi had done well to keep his sister from the gallows. But he could
do nothing about the sky.
The airstrip was within the compound but screened off from the ele
phants. After she landed and secured the old white aeroplane, Goma
grabbed her things, climbed down and made her way to a heavy gate
set into the fourmetretall electrified fence. She opened the lock and
pushed through into the separate enclosed area which held their study
buildings and vehicles. Over the years the camp had expanded, but
the core remained a group of closely set domes, linked together like a
cloverleaf. She walked the short distance to the first of the domes, then
ascended the metal stairs leading to the entrance. Her laceup boots
rattled on the openwork treads.
Inside, where the heat and humidity were kept at bay, Tomas lay on
his preferred bunk bed. He was eating greenbread out of a paper bag and
leafing through expensively printed research notes. He peered at her
over the top of the pages, smiled cautiously.
Home is the hunter. Howd it go?
As well as expected. Goma took off her sunglasses, stuffed them into
a hip pocket. They said my request was very well presented, case well
made, expect our decision in the fullness of time.
Tomas nodded sagely. In other words, the same old brushoff.
All we can do is keep trying. How are the numbers on Alpha herd?
He pinched at the bridge of his nose and squinted at a column of
figures, scribbled over in ink. Down two on last season. Measurable
impairment across a battery of variables, all significant at three sigma.
Ill run the results again, just to be sure, but I think we know how the
curves are trending.
Yes. She was about to tell him not to bother rerunning the analysis
the outcome would be the same, she was sure but a tiny part of her
hoped there might be a glimmer of good news buried somewhere in the
numbers. I came to speak to Ru.
Shes with the elephants. Beta herd, I think study area two. You
look exhausted want me to drive you out there?
No, Ill be fine its Ru I worry about. Look, run those numbers again,
will you? Isolate the Agrippa subgroup, too if theres a signal to be
found, I dont want it smothered by the noise.
Will do. Oh, and well done however well it went.
Thanks, Goma said doubtfully.
Outside the dome, she took the second electric buggy, dumped her
gear in the rear hopper, buckled herself into the driving seat and headed
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through the automatic gate in the secondary fence, into the main part
of the sanctuary. She picked up speed, bouncing in her seat as the buggy
followed a rough, undulating path. The sanctuarys terrain ranged from
level ground to gentle uplands, with areas of grassland and heavier tree
cover. On Earth, an elephant population of the same size would have
stripped the vegetation back to its roots, but Crucibles plant life grew
with astonishing vigour all year round. Without the elephants to hold
it in check, this whole zone would have returned to thick forestation
within a few years.
Goma passed the occasional small building or equipment store
along the way. Here and there she spotted elephants, sometimes partly
screened by intervening trees and bushes. Glossy from a recent rain
shower, they sometimes looked like boulders or rocky outcroppings
the exposed geology of an ancient world. Mostly they kept their dis
tance, wary, if not actually afraid. She spied a lone bull or two, isolated
from the larger herds. She gave them a wide berth. Drenched in testos
terone, bulls could be unpredictable and dangerous. Over generations,
and with the dwindling influence of the Tantors, the old herd dynamics
were reasserting themselves.
Soon enough she was at the study area, and there was the Beta herd
lured in with enticements of fruit and greenbread, then persuaded to
take part in cognitive games. Goma and Ru had designed the research
programme, but it was mostly down to Ru to shape the individual
challenges. Of necessity, these had grown increasingly simple as the
elephants average intelligence baseline slowly declined. The complex
tests those that demanded a high degree of abstract reasoning were
now obsolete. Only Agrippa could pass them with any regularity, and
Agrippa was too old and canny to be a reliable test subject.
Ru was standing up in her own buggy, back ramrod straight, a cap
jammed down over her eyes. With a notebook wedged into the angle
of her right arm and a stylus in the other hand, she was recording
observations.
Goma slowed so as not to disturb the experiment. She stopped the
buggy, grabbed her things and walked the rest of the way.
The herd comprised thirty members, give or take, led by the matri
arch Bellatrix. There were older females under the matriarch, but the
only males were infants and juveniles.
In a clearing, Ru had set up the days sequence of cognitive puzzles,
and one by one the elephants were encouraged to try their luck. There
were mirrors, to test recognitionofself. There were pots with food
under them that could be moved around, or blinds that served a similar
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purpose. There were sturdy upright boards set with movable symbols
simple problems of logic and association and memory, with clear re
wards for a correct answer. There were piles of objects and tools that
could be combined to solve a problem, such as extracting fruit from a
container. With her usual diligence, Ru had been working through com
binations of these tests all day. The elephants were generally obliging,
but only up to a point. Goma knew how frustrating it became when the
rewards stopped being sufficiently attractive.
I could use some good news, Goma said when she was within earshot.
How about you go first. Did you batter those idiots into a pulp?
Metaphorically.
So we get our brandnew fence?
Its pending, but I think I made a good case.
I wouldnt expect anything less of you. Still, arseholes, the lot of
them.
I wouldnt go quite that far.
Oh, I would. Ru hopped down from the buggy. Theyre just playing
with us. They could give us ten times the amount weve asked for and it
wouldnt make a dent in their funding budget. Were just down in the
noise.
They walked towards each other.
Speaking of noise, Goma said, Tomas tells me the numbers arent
looking great.
Dismal, more like. But why are we surprised? Three years ago I could
draw a chequerboard in the dirt and play a passable game of Go with
Bellatrix. Now she just scuffs her trunk through the squares its as if
she almost remembers, but not enough to understand the point. Thats
not an intergenerational decline thats a single elephant losing intelli
gence almost as we speak.
We should expect some agerelated cognitive deterioration. It affects
people, so why not pachyderms?
We never used to see such a sharp tailoff.
I know just trying to find a slightly less depressing way of looking
at it. Have you been out here all day?
Got caught up. You know how it goes.
They met, embraced, kissed. They held each other for a few seconds,
Goma straightening Rus cap. Then Goma stepped back and appraised
the other woman, noticing the stiffness in her posture and the slight
tremble in her hand, the one still holding her notebook. Ru was bigger
and taller than Goma, but for all that she was also frailer.
Youre done for the day. Lets pack up and drive home.
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I need to finish this batch of tests.

No, youre done. Goma spoke with all the firm authority she could
muster, knowing full well that her wife would not take well to being
pressured.
Its just been a long one. Ill be fine after a nights rest.
They packed the study items into the rear hoppers of their two bug
gies. Goma slaved her buggy to follow Rus, then joined her in the
forward vehicle. Goma opened the storage compartment by the passen
ger seat, unsurprised to see that it was empty.
Did you even bring your medicines?
I meant to go back for them.
You never miss a detail with elephants why is it so hard to extend
the same care to yourself?
Im fine, Ru said. But after a moment, she added, Can we detour to
swing by Alpha herd? Id like to take a look at Agrippa.
Agrippa can wait you need your medicine.
But it was pointless arguing, especially as Ru was driving. She steered
the buggy onto a narrower track, the rear vehicle following, and soon
they were cresting a low hill to overlook the favoured gathering spot
of Alpha herd. It was near the greenedover corpse of a Provider robot,
frozen where it had been when the information wave hit Crucible.
They stopped. Goma hopped out first, then went around to help Ru
step down.
There she is. Binoculars in the back, if you need them.
No, Ill manage. Goma levelled a hand over her eyes, screening out
the platinum glare of the clouds. It only took her a few moments to pick
out Agrippa, the matriarch of the Alpha herd, but her usual pleasure at
recognition with offset with disquiet.
Something was not right with Agrippa.
Shes very slow.
I noticed that a couple of days ago, Ru said. Some lameness for a
while, but this is different. I know shes old, but shes always had that
underlying strength to get her through.
We should take some blood.
I agree. Bring her in, if necessary. Maybe its just an infection, or a
bad reaction to something she ate.
Possibly.
But neither cared to admit the obvious truth: that Agrippa was show
ing the signs of extreme age rather than of any underlying malady that
could be treated with drugs or transfusions. She was simply an old ele
phant the oldest of the herd members.
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But also the smartest, according to the cognition measures. The only
one who could still pass most of the tests, proving that she had an
inner monologue, a sense of her own identity, an understanding of
cause and effect, of times arrow, of the distinction between life and
death. Agrippa could not generate speech sounds, but she could un
derstand spoken statements and formulate symbolic responses. She
was the last of the Tantors the last elephant to carry the fire of true
intelligence.
But Agrippa had grown old, and although her immediate offspring
were cleverer than the common herd, they were not as bright as their
mother. Her children had produced grandchildren, diluting her genes
even further, and these elephants were barely distinguishable from the
others. So weak was the signal, it took careful statistical analysis to prove
they had any cognitive enhancements.
We cant lose her, Ru said eventually.
We will.
Then it ends. Well have failed.
Theres more work to be done. Always will be. Well still have all
these elephants to look after.
They dont even care. Thats the part that really gets me. We do. It
tears us apart to see them losing what they had, year by year. But to
them its nothing. They dont miss being Tantors give them wide
open spaces, food to eat, some mud to roll in why should they?
Being Tantors was not a normal part of elephant development, Goma
said. We cant blame them for not caring. Do dogs care that theyre
not as clever as bonobos? Do ants care that theyre not as smart as
dogs?
I care.
Goma squeezed her shoulder, then hugged her silently for a few mo
ments. She shared Rus creeping despair the sense of something bright
and precious and mercurial slipping through their fingers. The more
they tried to measure it, to preserve it, the more quickly it was fading.
But she needed Ru to be strong, and in turn Goma needed to be strong
for Ru. They were like two trees leaning against each other.
Lets go home, Goma said. I have to call my mother I told her Id
visit tomorrow but Agrippas bloodwork is more important.
I can take care of that, Ru said. You know how much Ndege needs
her routines.
Can you blame her?
Not me. Im the last one whod blame her for anything.
*
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A few days later, when early evening business brought Mposi back to
the parliamentary building in Guochang, he found a visitor waiting for
him in the annexe to his office.
Goma, he said, beaming. What a pleasant surprise.
But his words drew no corresponding sentiment from her, nor even
a smile.
Can we speak? In private?
Of course.
He let her into the office, still maintaining a faade of polite convivi
ality even though nothing in her manner suggested this was a social
call. That would have been out of character, at least lately. When she
had been less busy in both professional and private spheres, Goma had
often visited him for a stroll around the parliamentary gardens, both of
them trading stories and titbits of innocent rumour. He realised, with a
swell of sadness, that he had almost forgotten how much pleasure those
simple encounters had brought him, unencumbered by professional ob
ligations on either side.
Chai? he offered, drawing the office blinds against a lowering sun as
fat and red as a ripe tomato.
No. This wont take long. She cant go.
He smiled. They were both still standing. She?
My mother. Ndege. Her hands were planted on her hips. Goma was
small, slight of build, easily underestimated. This stupid expedition of
yours the one you think I dont know about.
Mposi glanced at the door, making sure he had closed it on his way
in.
Youd better sit down.
I said this wont take long.
Nonetheless. He raised a hand in the direction of the chair he reserved
for visitors, then eased his plump frame into the one on his side of the
desk. She was under express instructions not to mention it to anyone.
Im her daughter. Did you think shed be able to keep something like
that from me for long?
You were to be informed when matters were on a more stable footing.
You mean when everyone else learned about it.
Im not a fool, Goma, and I do understand your feelings. But secrecy
is secrecy. What else did she mention?
Theres more?
Please, no games.
After a silence, Goma said, A signal, from somewhere out in deep
space.
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Mposi rubbed his forehead. He could already feel a knot of tension

building behind his eyes. My god.
Some possible connection with the Trinity with Chiku, Eunice and
Dakota. I can understand why that would be of interest to her. She lost
her mother watched as she was spirited away by an alien robot. But its
Dakota Im interested in.
The elephant?
The Tantor. If you received a signal from Eunice, then maybe
Dakotas out there as well. Do I have to explain why thats of interest
to me?
No, I think I can guess. Mposi had always found Gomas scientific
reports too technical to be easily digested by a nonspecialist like him
self, but he could skim the abstracts, get the thrust of her argument. It
was just a signal. It never repeated, and weve been listening for it again
for six months.
But you believe it was a real message, and that it was meant for us.
You think it might have some connection with the Trinity.
This is what I told your mother. In confidence.
If you start blaming her for the leak of your little secret, youll have a
much bigger problem on your hands.
Goodness, Goma. That almost sounds like a threat.
You need to understand my seriousness.
I do. Fully.
Then Ill cut to the point. Whatever that message says, Ndeges not
going.
I rather think that choice should be your mothers.
It isnt, not now. Im going in her place. Im a quarter of her age and
much stronger.
Be that as it may, Ndege is still alive. She has also consented to join
the expedition.
Only because you gave her no choice.
I merely pointed out that volunteering for such an expedition could
be turned to her immediate advantage.
You dangled the idea of a pardon in front of her. I thought better of
you.
It was meant with all sincerity. Mposi picked up the paperweight
he kept on his desk the skull of a sea otter, polished to a pebblelike
glossiness. It had been sent across space, a gift from his halfbrother.
You have a nerve, Goma, lecturing me on my treatment of Ndege. If
you doubt that, ask your mother.
His outburst delivered calmly enough had an immediate and
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chastening effect on his visitor. She looked contrite, sad, momentarily

ashamed at herself.
I just dont want her expectations raised.
Nor do I, Mposi answered softly. He put down the skull; it made
a pleasingly solid thunk. I would never put a false hope before your
mother, not after all shes been through. Are you serious, though
would you consider going in her place? You love this world, you love
your work. You have a fine companion in Ru. Why give all of that up?
Because Id rather it was me than Ndege. And Ive seen those ships of
yours, swinging overhead like a pair of new moons. Theyre huge. You
cant tell me there isnt room for thousands of people on them.
In their original design, Mposi answered. But if one of the ships
were to be refitted for a longrange expedition and thats still not a
given a great deal would need to be reorganised.
I bet you could still find room for Ru.
Mposi could hardly believe his ears. Youve spoken to her as well?
Out of respect for your secret, no. In fact, I havent spoken about it to
anyone except Ndege. Does that make you happier?
Marginally.
But I will put it to Ru. Shell feel the same way about Dakota. We lost
the Tantors, Mposi. We lost the most beautiful, surprising thing ever
to happen to us as a species. New friends new companions. And we
let them die. Thats all Ru and I have ever done chart the decline, the
tailingoff of their intelligence. But now we have a chance to recontact
one of the original Tantors, or at least her offspring. Even if all we recov
ered was fresh genetic material, that would give us something new. Ru
knows that, too. Shell want to come with me.
Does Ndege know of your intentions?
I told her Id speak to you about it.
And did she approve? No you dont need to answer that. Ndege
would try to protect you just as youre trying to protect her. She wouldnt
want you to leave.
Ultimately, though, the choice would be yours, uncle. Commit your
sister to something she wont survive, or take a chance on your niece?
When you put it like that, it sounds so simple.
Thats because it is. Agree to my being on that ship, uncle.
He felt himself on the brink of consenting. But he would not could
not allow the decision to be made in haste. Too much was at stake. It
was vastly more complicated than Goma understood.
I wished to do something good for your mother.
You still can. That ship wont be ready for a while, will it?
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He sighed, seeing where this was heading. Another five years, so Im

told.
Then thats five years in which you can make things easier for Ndege.
Are you ever going public with this?
Some sort of limited disclosure will be required once its clear weve
altered our plans for one of the ships. A year or two from now, perhaps.
Then you can tell the world that Ndege has volunteered for the mis
sion. Let her have that moment. Only the three of us need know that
she wont be going.
It would be more than three of us. Your medical suitability for skip
over would need to be assessed. There are no guarantees.
Im still more likely to cope with it than my mother.
You place me in an unfortunate position.
Then Im glad you understand how it feels. Put me on the expedi
tion and reserve a space for Ru. I wont ask again, uncle. And my words
earlier?
Yes?
They werent a threat. But if you want to think of it as a robust bar
gaining position, be my guest.
He smiled fondly, simultaneously proud and a little terrified. You
were wasted on science, Goma. We could have made a fine politician
of you.

14

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Copyright Alastair Reynolds 2015

All rights reserved
The right of Alastair Reynolds to be identified as the author
of this work has been asserted by him in accordance
with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First published in Great Britain in 2015 by Gollancz
An imprint of the Orion Publishing Group
Carmelite House, 50 Victoria Embankment, London EC4Y 0DZ
An Hachette UK Company
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available
from the British Library
ISBN 978 0 575 09049 1 (Cased)
ISBN 978 0 575 09050 7 (Export Trade Paperback)
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Printed in Great Britain by
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www.alastairreynolds.com
www.orionbooks.co.uk
www.gollancz.co.uk

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