“You brought me up here to talk about fairy stories?” His words poured doubt through her. He was crazy. Being pursued so relentlessly by the forces of Concordance had made him paranoid.
“Please,” he said, “tell me which version of the story you know.”
She thought about claiming exhaustion – the short ride in the chair had drained her – but she wanted to know more about him, where his lonely thoughts had taken him. She"d play his game a little longer. “Coronade is a myth, a planet where everything is beautiful and peaceful. All cultures and religions have ideas like it: an idealised place where life makes sense, and everyone is happy.”
“And what do you say to my claim that it is real?”
“I don"t believe you.”
“Why?”
Her voice was hoarse from so much talking, her throat rough, but
