The voices came from multiple mouths simultaneously, the way the Harvester's communication always came—several stolen voices producing the same content in overlapping layers that arrived as one thing rather than many.
"NO."
The word filled the Core chamber with a quality that was different from every other sound the Harvester had produced.
The Core sphere pulsed once in the silence after the word. The dimensional-energy light of the chamber continued its indifferent distribution. The stolen faces on the Harvester's body were moving—not the suspended silent screaming that had been their configuration since Zeph had first seen them, but something more agitated, the features working with the quality of faces being driven by the creature's internal state rather than held in their collected expression.
"THE WARDEN. THE WEAPON."
