“Yes?”
“If I’ve earned your trust enough for you to hear me out, haven’t I earned your trust enough to at least speak right-side up?”
There was the slightest hesitation before he nodded and made a small, vague gesture. Syrina heard the door open, and she was wheeled two-thirds of the way down the causeway and flipped unceremoniously over by a pair of guards, who then went to stand behind the Astrologer, under the gazebo. They settled their gazes on Syrina and kept them there.
The rush of being right-side up made her giddy, and it took a second or two to gain control of her senses.
“The Tidal Works,” she said. “Everyone’s got their fingers in it. It’s at least ten thousand years old. By most accounts, more. And if it ever stopped doing whatever it’s doing, it would reduce a fifth of the
