“Wait a gods-damned minute,” said Locke. “A friend. A friend. That’s what we fucking need. We’ve spun Stragos and Requin like plates. Who haven’t we even bothered to deal with in the past two years? Who have we been ignoring?” “The temples?” “Good guess, but no—who’s got a direct stake in this bloody mess?” “The Priori?” “The Priori,” said Locke. “Those fat, secretive, conniving bastards.”
