The Chosen Seed by Sarah Pinborough

gold streamed out.
    ‘We know it’s an emissary,’ Mr Bright said. ‘There were already rumours of one. I don’t see why you are so fixated on this as if it were some kind of surprise.’
    ‘Come, come.’ Mr Dublin smiled gently. ‘It’s not that simple, is it, Mr Bright? There has never been an emissary here before – they have been rumours only, the stuff of myths and legends.’ He sat down, careful not to crease his linen suit. ‘And I know as well as you do that most of thoserumours were started in one or other of your offices to keep us all toeing the line. I always respected that.’
    He flicked a finger in the direction of the still image. ‘But this? This is not a creation of your mind. This really is an emissary. And if an emissary is here, then perhaps he isn’t far behind.’
    ‘I understand your concerns, Mr Dublin.’ Mr Bright maintained the twinkle in his eyes despite his exhaustion. Why did they think they needed to tell him what to do? He had always been the thinker; he was always ahead. He was the Architect.
    ‘Of course we need to find out what the emissary wants,’ he said. ‘Clearly they are not here to speak with us, or they would have come directly. Perhaps he is just curious to see how we have got along in all this time. Maybe he’s having a moment of boredom. The emissary may well leave without ever contacting us.’ He carefully put his saucer down on the desk. ‘I am, of course, doing all I can to locate them, but as you can imagine, that is not the easiest task.’
    ‘Why would they save Cassius Jones? Why would the emissary even know who he is?’ Mr Dublin’s voice was as soft and languid as ever, but Mr Bright was not fooled by it. He had the bit between his teeth, and he wasn’t going to let go simply because of some reassuring words.
    ‘Perhaps it’s something to do with the elusive child?’ Mr Dublin finished.
    ‘Perhaps,’ Mr Bright said. There was no point in denying the possibility.
    ‘And what did you do with the child, Mr Bright?’ Mr Dublin asked. ‘His existence used to be a matter of record, at least for the Inner Cohort. What made you decide to hide him away? Or did he die?’ Mr Dublin leaned forward. ‘I don’t wish to be challenging. I haven’t always agreedwith you, but I have always respected our order. However, I cannot help but wonder at the wisdom of having the location and condition of the boy known only by you.’ He paused. ‘He may boost morale if you could perhaps show him, at least to us. Explain his importance.’
    ‘That isn’t possible at this moment in time.’ Mr Bright had known that this was coming. He could understand them resenting his secrets, but he had promised the First before he slept that he would do what was necessary, and that did not include sharing their plans with the cohorts. Plus, he was tired of the weight of their expectations. Currently the child was merely a rumour; to make him more than that at this stage could be foolish. If he unveiled his plans and they didn’t work, then the child would become another nail in his coffin.
    ‘I don’t care about the child,’ Mr Craven snapped. Mr Bright was sure there were flecks of blood in the spray of spit that flew out with the words. ‘You’re missing the point.’
    ‘And that is?’ Mr Dublin asked. Small lines pinched at his naturally smooth face. Mr Dublin was clearly no more fond of Mr Craven than Mr Bright was.
    ‘The emissary is here . If the emissary can get here , then why can’t we find the Walkways to get back? What is going wrong with the Experiment? If we can find the emissary, then maybe we can find a way home.’
    ‘This is home,’ Mr Bright said.
    ‘No.’ Mr Craven shook his head vehemently, ‘ This was a mistake. We should never have fled.’
    ‘You were young. I think perhaps your memory of events is no longer clear.’
    ‘With all due respect’ – Mr Craven’s face fell somewhat short of a smile – ‘you and I are in very