"That could have been all kinds of bad," Sassafras said as we soared in a small transport toward Ostrogotho. I appropriated a six-seater, pouring on the speed and covering the distance it took our convoy to travel in half a day to an hour. The lights of the Seat sparkled on the horizon as I answered.

"Could doesn't count," I said, reaching for Jabuticabron the moment we passed over the edge of the plane border. He answered instantly and didn't overreact when I told him what we'd ...