“Neither do I.”

“When things happen that threaten it, I get alarmed. I’m sorry I overreacted. The Guild is my thing. I own it, I nurture it, I make it grow. So I understand, Kate. This city is your thing.”

“I don’t own it.”

“And I’m relieved that you still hold to that. But the facts are as follows: You guard it, you protect it with your life, and you feel responsible for it. You want it to prosper and you don’t want your father to lay claim to it. Setting aside legalities and moral scruples, you own it, Kate, and when your father stretches his hand toward it, you freak out.”

“He has no right to it.”

“It’s important to remember that neither do you.”

I felt an itch under my jaw, an uncomfortable need to clench my teeth.

He was watching me very closely. “Is it difficult to come to terms with that?”

“Yes.” I should’ve lied.

“I think that’s how your father must’ve started. I realize it’s ancient history, eons ago, but he must’ve had a kingdom.”

Oh, why not? It’s not like I had to keep secrets anymore anyway.

“It was called the kingdom of Shinar. It started with the cities of Akkad, Erech, and Calneh. That entire region was a series of small kingdoms, all magically powerful and more or less equal, ruled by family dynasties. They were aware of other powers, as far north as France and as far south as the Congo, but they were content to stay in Mesopotamia. It was different back then. There were two more rivers, the climate was mild, and Mesopotamia was a beautiful garden.”

“Like Eden.” Barabas nodded.

“Not like. Eden’s river had four tributaries—Pison, Gihon, Euphrates, and Hiddekel—that united into a single river before rushing into the sea. The Euphrates is still there. The Hiddekel is now called Tigris. The Pison was a river that flowed all the way through northern Arabia, a place known to the biblical Hebrews as Havilah. It has since dried up. The Gihon is the river Karum, which is now a lot smaller than it used to be. These four rivers joined together into a single enormous river that had flowed through the valley of Eden into the Persian Gulf until the plain of Eden drowned. The kingdoms were powerful but even they couldn’t halt the Flandrian Transgression, when the glaciers melted and flooded the oceans.”

Barabas stared at me like I had grown a second head. “Kate. Are you trying to tell me that your family comes from Eden?”

“From that general vicinity.”

“So Roland, I mean Nimrod, is actually a grandson of Adam? Real Adam?”

I sighed. “Adam wasn’t a person. Adam was a city.”

He stared at me.

“In the language of the Ubaid, who were there first, Eden means ‘fertile plain’ and Adam means ‘city of the plains.’ There was a real Cain, but he didn’t murder his biological brother. He favored agriculture and was forced out by the hunters and herders who saw his ways as having too great of an impact on their lands.”

He didn’t say anything.

“You asked how my father became what he is. I don’t know all of the details, but at the start, he and my aunt were liberators. They brought freedom, civilization, and enlightenment, but they never stopped. They kept rolling, taking city after city and then snuffing out rebellions when their empire became too large.”

“They were heroes,” Barabas said softly.

“Until they became tyrants.” And I understood exactly how it happened.

“Do you think people tried to stop them?”

“Probably. There must’ve been people who told them they were going too far, but I doubt they survived very long. My father doesn’t like the word ‘no.’”

“I’ll be there to tell you ‘no,’” he said.

“My family history isn’t exactly inspiring. I may kill you one day, Barabas.”

“I’ll take that chance. I believe in you, Kate.”

Curran walked down the stairs. He had to have heard that last bit. The man could hear the oven door opening all the way in the pasture, especially if he was waiting for a pie.

“Alright, then,” Barabas said. “I’ve come to talk about Saiman. The problem, as I see it, is that Roland kidnapped Saiman, according to his own admission, when Saiman was outside your lands. Technically, he isn’t in breach of the treaty the two of you signed.”

“Yes, but if he sits by . . .”—my, no, wrong—“our land and grabs the citizens as they leave, then the city is under siege. A siege is an act of war, so he is in breach, which is what I told him. He didn’t address it, so he knows he’s in a gray area.”

Barabas stopped for a moment. “Kate, sometimes you really surprise me. Yes, you’re right. But it’s still an indirect action. You and your father are in a state of cold war. If you respond directly by attempting to retrieve Saiman by force, the conflict heats up.”

“She needs plausible deniability,” Curran said. “We have to snatch the degenerate back, but she can’t be directly involved.”

“What are the chances that your father would retaliate directly if you weren’t involved?” Barabas asked.

“Slim to none,” I said.

Curran nodded. “Agreed. Roland maintains the outward appearance of being a man of his word. He means to rule. A ruler’s word is binding.”

“If he was displeased with something ‘my people’ had done, he would take it up with me.”

“That was my assessment as well,” Barabas said. “It’s very clear from the photographic evidence that Saiman was taken against his will. It’s unlikely he’s having a pleasant visit. Given a chance, he would probably do almost anything to get out.”

“Including hiring the Guild to rescue him,” Curran said.

Barabas bared his teeth in a quick flash. “Indeed.”

“For that to happen, we’d have to communicate with Saiman,” I said.

“And that’s where it all grinds to a screeching halt,” Barabas said.

“But at least that’s a specific problem we can work on,” Curran said. “We need to go through the mercs and see if anyone has any talents that might let us communicate with Saiman inside Roland’s compound.”

“That’s problem one. Problem two, Roland knows we’ll be coming,” Barabas said. “We have no element of surprise.”