Inside a coffin of perfect crystal, the little boy lay peaceful and pristine. Like a spark encased within a glass shell, Manion Butler was isolated from everything that had been wrought in his name. And Serena remained secluded with him inside the walls of the City of Introspection.

She knelt on a stone platform at the front of the shrine, as she often did, looking both beatific and grim. Long ago, devotees in the contemplative retreat had stopped asking to install a fine bench where she could sit and pray over her child. For twenty-four years now, Serena had faced her thoughts, her memories, her nightmares this way, on her knees before the crystalline case.

Manion looked so serene here, so sheltered. The boy’s delicate face and fragile bones had been shattered when the monstrous robot Erasmus had dropped him from a high balcony, but Iblis Ginjo had seen to it that his true form and features were repaired by cosmetic morticians. Her son was preserved exactly as Serena wanted to remember him. Yes, faithful Iblis had taken care of everything possible.

Had he lived, Manion would be a full-grown young nobleman now… old enough to be married and have children himself. Gazing upon Manion’s beautiful face, she thought of the potential he might have attained, if not for the evil thinking machines.

Instead, the innocent boy had given birth to a jihad that blazed across star systems, with humans fomenting revolution on the Synchronized Worlds, attacking robot ships and all incarnations of Omnius. Billions of people had already died for the holy cause. Erasmus himself must have been destroyed in the atomic attack that annihilated thinking machines on Earth. But the computer evermind still held dominion over the rest of his realm, and humans could not rest.

The pain did not go away. Serena’s very soul had been smashed by the murder of her son. Meditating in his presence gave her all the inspiration she needed to keep leading the Jihad. This particular shrine, containing Manion’s actual body, was reserved for her, and for a few select devotees.

Additional shrines and elaborate reliquaries had appeared across Salusa Secundus and on other League Worlds. Some were adorned with paintings or depictions of the divine boy, the sacrificial lamb, though none of the artists had ever seen him in life. Some reliquaries purported to contain bits of cloth, hair, even microscopic cellular samples. Though Serena doubted the authenticity of such exhibits, she did not ask to have them removed. The people’s faith and devotion were more important than perfect accuracy.

After the Jihad had failed to overthrow the Synchronized World of Bela Tegeuse, and after the thinking machines had once again attacked— and been driven from— Salusa Secundus, Iblis had convinced Serena that she must not dilute her power or risk her safety for such meaningless political activities as trade accords and minor laws. Instead, she reserved her public appearances for matters of great importance. Without Serena Butler’s inspiration, he insisted, humanity would not have the will to fight. So she delivered grand inspirational speeches, and people rushed out to sacrifice their lives for the cause— for her.

In spite of Iblis’s precautions, however, when Serena had gone to speak at a Parliament assembly one year after accepting the role as interim Viceroy, she had barely survived an attempt on her life. The would-be assassin had been killed, and the Jipol commander Yorek Thurr had uncovered unusual machine technology hidden among the assailant’s effects. For the first time, the League had faced the reality of Omnius spies— human turncoats— infiltrating League worlds.

In the uproar, most people could not conceive of what would drive a person to voluntarily swear allegiance to the amoral thinking machines. Iblis, though, had addressed a huge crowd in Zimia’s memorial square. “I myself have seen human slaves raised on the Synchronized Worlds— it is no secret that Primero Vorian Atreides and I were brainwashed to serve Omnius. Other selfish, traitorous people might be granted attractive rewards— the promise of a neo-cymek body, even planets and slaves of their own. We must be vigilant at all times.”

The fear of thinking machine spies living disguised among the free planets had been an important impetus for Iblis to form the Jipol, a vigilant security force that monitored domestic activities for any signs of suspicious behavior.

After the assassination attempt, Serena had been rushed into the City of Introspection, where she lived an even more isolated life from that time on, to ensure her safety.

The old compound had been built centuries before, the idea partly sparked by a debate about Buddislam and the eventual exile of the Zensunni and Zenshiite slaves who had toiled for generations on Salusa before their exodus to uncharted Unallied Planets. Now, followers of the varied fractured faiths came here to study ancient writings, religious works, and philosophical records. Scholars analyzed all forms of venerable teachings, from the mysterious Muadru runestones found scattered on uninhabited planets, to the vague Navachristian traditions of Poritrin and Chusuk, the haiku of the Zen Hekiganshu on III Delta Pavonis, and the alternate interpretations of the Koran Sutras from the Zensunni and Zenshia sects. The variations were as numerous as the communities of humans flung across countless planets….

Serena heard footsteps crunching softly on the gem-gravel path, and looked up to see her mother approach. Escorting the Abbess into Serena’s presence were three bright-eyed young women in white robes trimmed with crimson, as if the edges had been dipped in blood. The guard women were tall and muscular, their expressions stonily irenic. Clinging hoods of fine goldscale mesh covered their heads. Each woman had a small symbol of the Jihad painted above her left eyebrow.

Fourteen years earlier, when the Jipol commander had first uncovered Omnius loyalists secretly plotting against Serena, Iblis had established a special cadre of female guards to protect the Priestess of the Jihad. Serena’s “Seraphim” were like Amazon warriors and vestal virgins combined, carefully selected attendants assigned by the Grand Patriarch to cater to all of Serena’s needs.

Livia Butler walked quickly enough to pull ahead of the three Seraphim. Serena stepped away from her son’s shrine, smiled, and formally kissed the older woman on the cheek.

Livia had snowy white hair, cropped short, and wore a long simple robe of cream-colored fibers. She carried with her a lifetime of tragedy and experiences. Following the death of Serena’s brother Fredo, their mother had retreated from the Butler estate, seeking solace and wisdom from God. Because of her longtime marriage to the former Viceroy, the dignified woman still paid close attention to politics and current events, studying the real-world implications of the Jihad rather than just the esoteric moral questions that fascinated the Cogitor Kwyna.

At the moment, her face revealed deep concern. “I have just listened to the Grand Patriarch’s speech, Serena. Do you know he’s pushing the Army of the Jihad again, inciting even more bloody attacks?”

Livia glanced over her shoulder at the trio of statuesque Seraphim who hovered too close on the stone platform fronting the shrine. Serena gestured for the robed women to step away; they did so, but only as far as the shrine, where they remained at attention, still within earshot. She knew two of the three well; the other Seraph was new, having just graduated from a rigorous training program.

She answered with the so-familiar words. “Sacrifices are necessary to achieve our ultimate victory, Mother. My Jihad has blazed for two decades, but not brightly enough. We cannot accept an endless impasse. We must redouble our efforts.”

Livia’s mouth flattened into a thin line, not quite a frown. “I have heard the Grand Patriarch give those same reasons, in practically the same words.”

“And why not?” Serena’s lavender eyes flared. “Iblis’s goals are the same as mine. As Priestess of the Jihad I cannot concern myself with politics and power plays. Do you question my judgment or my devotion to free humanity?”

Livia said in a calm voice, “No one questions your motives, Serena. Your heart is pure, though hard.”

“The machines themselves deadened my capacity for love. The robot Erasmus took that from me forever.”

Sadly, Livia stepped close to her daughter and slipped an arm around her shoulders. The Seraphim attendants tensed, hands sliding toward their concealed weapons. Serena and Livia both ignored them.

“My child, human love is an infinite resource. No matter how many times it is expended, whether stolen or given away, love can grow again— like a flower from a bulb— and fill your heart.”

Serena bowed her head, and listened as her mother’s comforting words continued. “Tomorrow is Octa’s birthday. Hers and… Fredo’s. I lost my son too, Serena, so I know how you feel.” She hastened to add, “Your brother died differently, of course.”

“Yes, Mother— and you withdrew to the City of Introspection afterward. You of all people must understand.”

“Oh I do, but I have not let my heart turn to stone, for all love to die within me. I am devoted to your father, to Octa, and to you. Come with me and see how much her daughters have grown. You have two nieces now.”

“Xavier will not be there?”

Livia frowned. “He fights the machines at IV Anbus. You dispatched him there yourself. Don’t you remember?”

Serena nodded distractedly. “He’s been gone so long. I’m sure he longs to come back for Octa’s party.” Then she lifted her head. “But the Jihad must take precedence over all personal matters. We make our choices, and we survive by holding to them.”

Looking sad, Livia said, “Do not resent him for marrying your sister. You cannot keep wishing that things could have been different.”

“Of course I wish things could have been different, but perhaps my suffering was what the human race finally needed to galvanize it to action. Otherwise we would never have had the impetus to turn around and throw off the shackles of the thinking machines.” She shook her head. “I am no longer jealous of Octa, and I don’t resent Xavier. Yes, I loved him once— he was Manion’s father— but I was just a girl then. Silly and starry-eyed. In the light of subsequent events, such concerns seem so… trivial.”

Livia chided, “Love is never trivial, Serena, even when you don’t want it.”

Serena’s voice became small, not at all the powerful, passionate instrument she employed when rallying the huge crowds that came to hear her. “I fear, Mother, that the damage to my soul will take more than a lifetime to heal.”

Livia slipped her arm through Serena’s and turned to lead her along the gem-gravel path. “Nevertheless, daughter, that is all the time you have.”

Abruptly, Serena saw a blur of white motion from the direction of her guards. One of the Seraphim cried out and threw herself upon another— the newest one— who moved with blinding speed, drawing a long dagger that glinted silver.

Her mother slammed into Serena and knocked her away. As she fell, Serena heard a nearby slash of cloth and a gurgling gasp, saw a grisly spurt of blood, and, almost simultaneously, felt a heavy impact. Livia dropped on top of her, covering Serena’s body.

The third Seraph drove into the rushing white-robed guard, grabbed the gold-mesh hood that covered the traitor’s hair, and yanked her head back with a hollow snap to break her neck.

Although her mother’s body still covered hers, Serena could see a Rorschach splash of scarlet on one of the guards’ robes, not at all like the precise crimson trimming on the white uniform. A gasping, heroic Seraph— the only survivor of the three— choked out, “The threat has been neutralized, Priestess.” She caught her breath and quickly composed herself.

Shaking, Livia helped her daughter to her feet. Serena was astonished to see two of her chosen guards lying dead: her bloody defender, fallen with a slashed throat, and the other broken. The traitor.

“An assassin?” Serena looked down at the woman whose head lay cocked at an awkward angle.

Livia demanded, “How did she penetrate our training?”

The remaining Seraph said, “Priestess, we must get you to safety inside one of the buildings. There may be another attempt on your life.”

Alarms had already sounded, and more white-robed Seraphim rushed to the scene, scanning in all directions for additional threats. Serena felt her knees growing weak as she and her mother were hustled to the shelter of the nearest large building.

She looked at the white-robed young woman who had saved her life. With her gold-mesh hood askew from the struggle, the guard’s short blond hair could be seen. “Niriem? That is your name, correct?”

“Yes, Priestess.” She straightened her hood.

“From this moment on, I appoint you my chief Seraph. Make certain the Grand Patriarch summons his best Jipol officers to investigate this matter,” Serena said, breathless as she ran.

“Yes, Priestess.”

Because of the severity of the incident, Iblis would have to get involved personally, and might replace all of the Seraphim… except for Niriem. Serena would leave it to him to unravel what had happened. She could still hardly believe it herself.

Livia urged her daughter into the safety of the main sanctuary building, a converted manor house with cupolas and turrets. “You have always known the threat, my daughter. The machines are everywhere.”

Serena’s eyes were dry, her expression cold. “And they will never stop plotting against us.”