"And if neither reacts?" Cerys asked.
Mikhailis smiled faintly. "Then I have risked my life for a very embarrassing academic exercise."
Cerys kept staring.
He let the smile fall.
"They'll react."
That confidence hit differently because it wasn't loud.
Rhaen adjusted her grip on her weapon. "You said there was a twist."
"There is."
He crouched and opened a small wrap at his belt. Inside were tiny inert pieces—chitin slivers, dull nodules, one thread-thin line sealed in wax, a shard that looked like old relay bone without any live heat in it.
"I'm going to build a wrong signal. Not a full false ignition. Just enough to suggest that your pull and my route geometry are still closer than they really are. If they read it wrong, they'll commit harder and later than they intended."
Cerys's eyes narrowed. "You can do that?"
"Not cleanly."
"That is not reassuring."
"It should be. Clean work is easier to detect."
