Yatima liked the way the concentric 3-spheres of color pricked out in the sky by stars of equal Doppler-shift converged on their destination; it seemed so much more emphatic than an ordinary starbow of circular bands. Wrapping the image of Weyl so tightly, it seemed to promise that, this time, the Transmuters would not have slipped away.
Paolo said, “End of story, I suppose. From that point on, they’ll know the territory better than we do.”
“Maybe.” Yatima hesitated. “They might still be curious about one thing, though.”
“What?”
“You, Paolo. You had all the information you needed. You’d made the whole Diaspora worthwhile. So why did you choose to keep traveling?”