ã€ŠChasing Sunlightã€‹


 Chapter One

    ¡°Sunlight is a myth.¡±

    ¡°I assure you, captain, it is not,¡± Jonathan Heights said, brushing an imaginary speck of dust off the sleeve of his immaculately tailored suit. ¡°I have seen it with my own eyes, and my eyes are very, very good.¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡± Captain Montgomery said doubtfully, squinting at him. ¡°What¡¯s it look like?¡±

    ¡°It was the most beautiful thing I¡¯ve ever seen,¡± Jonathan said sincerely, closing his eyes for a moment and letting that sacred sight return to his mind. The clarity and purity of that single ray of light descending from the heavens had burned itself forever into his soul, rendering the rest of the world faded and dull by comparison and at the same time giving him strength and purpose. ¡°And you, my good captain, have the chance to see it for yourself.¡±

    ¡°Yeah? Why me?¡± Montgomery scowled at him. ¡°The Endeavor isn¡¯t exactly in the best of shape right now.¡± Jonathan inclined his head, conceding the point. The vessel he¡¯d seen in drydock was more scrap than ship, part melted, part dissolved, the envelope mostly burned away, and parts of the superstructure crazed with the cracks of luminiferous detonation. By anyone¡¯s reckoning it was a poor prospect for a venture.

    ¡°Three good reasons.¡± Jonathan smiled at the captain. ¡°One, you managed to bring that back into port. Two, you¡¯ve been flying for a very long time and you have an excellent reputation. Three, you¡¯re desperate.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not supposed to mention that last one,¡± Montgomery growled, lifting his glass and finding it empty. He lifted it to catch the attention of the bartender and then returned his gaze to Jonathan.

    ¡°Four, you¡¯re drowning your sorrows here rather than a seedy tavern,¡± Jonathan said, glancing around the clean, zint-lit interior of The Likely Prospect, which was likely the best restaurant available to anyone in the port quarter. Instead of rough rock and pale green myceliplank, it had polished tiles and sanded, stained walls the color of burnished gold. ¡°I appreciate a man of refined taste.¡±

    ¡°Yeah? Well I appreciate someone who comes to the point. You¡¯re seeking sunlight, sure. I can believe it. Yeah, I¡¯ve heard of you,¡± Montgomery said, almost accusingly. ¡°I might even be tempted to take the job. Problem is, there¡¯s no way you can make it worth my while.¡±

    ¡°Indeed?¡± Jonathan said, picking up the metal case resting beside his chair. ¡°You believe I am impoverished?¡±

    ¡°Everyone knows your last expedition was a disaster. Hell, it was in the papers!¡± Montgomery said, leaning back as the waitress came by with a fresh bottle of liquor. ¡°But even if you were flush, you¡¯d have to practically buy me a new ship and¡ª¡±

    He cut off as Jonathan casually placed the case on the table, drawing a groan from the myceliplank. Montgomery¡¯s eyes narrowed as Jonathan turned the case to face him and flipped the catches raising the lid. Inside was gold. Lots of gold. Blank plates were arranged in columns and held in place with steel, while the lid held eight luminiferous gems, inset to avoid damage from the rest of the contents.

    ¡°Close that thing!¡± Montgomery hissed, slamming the lid down and looking around. The restaurant was filled with avaricious sailors and, despite its civility, shadowed by those versed in dark dealings. Experimentally he tried to heft the case, and could barely manage with two hands what Jonathan had done with one.

    ¡°Are you trying to get us killed?¡± He gestured around at the rest of the clientele, and shaded his eyes in the direction of the door, where a pair of battered men were being watched by the house muscle ¡ª who wouldn¡¯t quite deign to call themselves bouncers. Jonathan hadn¡¯t entered the restaurant unmolested. ¡°That much, out in the open like this?¡±

    ¡°As you said, I would practically have to buy you a new ship,¡± Jonathan said, his smile growing. Several of his teeth seemed to be slightly more pointed than they should have been. ¡°We¡¯re headed east. Very far east. You need to refit the Endeavor for long distance travel, including distillation facilities and spare parts. Plan on myself as a passenger, and perhaps three or four others.¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡± Montgomery chewed on that, his drink forgotten. That much gold could focus any man¡¯s mind, not to mention the gems. While those were worth money too, they were more valuable put to use as the cores for new engines or weapons. Things the Endeavor desperately needed. ¡°I still don¡¯t get it. If this is what you¡¯ve got, you could buy a fancy new dreadnaught. So why bother with me?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve been out there,¡± Jonathan said, his smile falling away. Deadly serious, his dark eyes pinned Montgomery in place. ¡°You know what it¡¯s really like beyond the walls. No navy crew is going to really understand. Even the fanciest ship wouldn¡¯t survive without a crew that knows the darkness.¡±

    ¡°Now that, I believe,¡± Montgomery said, turning to the bottle and pouring himself a shot, then lifting it in salute to Jonathan, who inclined his head.

    ¡°You are also not, despite your experience, affiliated with the Exploration Society, who are the ones who wrote that article in the paper.¡± Jonathan frowned, his fingers tapping on the top of the case. ¡°Bunch of vultures. They¡¯ve been hounding me since I got back, jealous as they are. They might bother you, but I suggest you simply ignore them.¡±

    ¡°So that¡¯s who they were,¡± Montgomery said, glancing again at the pair at the front of the restaurant. Despite the value of the case in Jonathan¡¯s hand, the two hadn¡¯t been after the money, but rather his intentions. Their demands to know Jonathan¡¯s business were just the bleating of a jealous, nosy old club.

    ¡°I imagine that if those types give you any lip, you¡¯ll know how to take care of them,¡± Jonathan said idly.

    ¡°Aye, not that I have anything in particular against them, mind, I just don¡¯t see how what I do is anyone else¡¯s business. Save the tax-man¡¯s, I suppose,¡± Montgomery said with a laugh.

    ¡°The Crown always takes its due,¡± Jonathan agreed. ¡°Do we have a deal?¡± He reached his hand across the table.

    ¡°You make deals this big on handshakes?¡± Montgomery asked, but nevertheless reached out to take Jonathan¡¯s hand.

    ¡°If I can¡¯t trust you on this, how could I trust you enough to fly with you?¡± Jonathan asked.

    ¡°Fair point,¡± Montgomery said.

    ¡°Come by my estate tomorrow,¡± Jonathan said, standing and taking the case back. He held it in one hand, the other one resting on his cane. ¡°I don¡¯t imagine you¡¯ll want to take charge of this while you¡¯re still drinking.¡±

    ¡°Too rich for my blood,¡± Montgomery agreed. ¡°I¡¯ll tell the crew. Cheers, mister Heights.¡±

    ¡°Enjoy your evening, Captain,¡± Jonathan said, his cane tapping on the tile floor of The Likely Prospect as he made his way outside. The zint lights illuminated the white stone of the Port Quarter, where carriages rumbled back and forth on the level street. Most of them were no longer drawn by animals, fueled instead by distilled luminiferous terrestrite, or zint as everyone called it thanks to the sound the extractors made. His own was no exception, and a wave of his cane summoned his chauffeur, who maneuvered the carriage up to the sidewalk.

    ¡°Any luck, sir?¡± Johann inquired politely, holding the door open. Jonathan stepped past the large spindled wheels, which rose almost to the level of the windows, and mounted the steps into the enclosed interior.

    ¡°Some,¡± Jonathan confirmed, carefully placing down the money case and settling into the rear seat. Despite the wealth he¡¯d shown to Montgomery, the carriage itself was of a fairly modest design, large enough for only two or three people in the rear and with less plush seats than the true luxury models.

    ¡°Glad to hear it, sir,¡± Johann said, closing the door after him before taking his place at the front of the carriage and pulling the drive lever, steering it out into traffic. Jonathan watched the city pass by as Johann drove them back to his modest estate in the Merchant Quarter.

    Beacon, named such for obvious reasons, was a city of white stone, bright lights, and deep shadows. Zint-light was everywhere, though in some sections of the city they were still scrubbing away the accumulated soot of centuries of torches and gas-light. While it was in some ways home, Jonathan had never truly liked the place. There was something dishonest about the light of Beacon, despite the thousands of people that thrived within its walls. Despite it being the source of all the technology and machinery he took advantage of. The lethal darkness of the outside world still seemed more true, and only sunlight came by its illumination honestly.

    The carriage wound down away from the ports, past warehouses, residences, storefronts, barracks, walls, and gates. Jonathan¡¯s eyes were shadowed as he watched, one hand resting lightly on the case to steady it as the carriage rolled over bumps and jostled its way past the occasional pit in the road. His estate was a modest one, the upper two floors of an older building near the gate to the Industrial Quarter, and he mounted the steps as Johann parked the carriage in the rear.

    Agnes, his housekeeper, had the door open moments after he rapped the outside bell with his cane, and he strode inside with the money case still in hand. He gave her a nod and walked past a hallway furnished with the spoils of expeditions past ¨C a tablet covered in a script nobody could read, a crystalline flower that never withered, a bust of some inhuman serpentine god carved from black stone ¨C before entering the sitting room. A gas fire blazed in the hearth there, despite the entire city being mostly heated with steam, and he placed the case on the small table next to his old armchair where it rested in front of the fire.

    Jonathan waited for a while, leaning on his cane, until Agnes came in to deliver a tray with a bottle of scotch and a glass before retreating. He turned to the tray as if to pour himself a drink, then without any warning whipped around, holding half the cane in one hand as the unsheathed blade whistled through the air. It stopped in midair with the ringing of metal, and a long dagger faded into view, followed by its wielder ¡ª a young woman dressed in a charcoal greatcoat with dark red hair peeking out from under a cloche hat.

    ¡°You¡¯re not supposed to be able to see me,¡± she said conversationally.

    ¡°You¡¯re not supposed to be able to eschew the light,¡± Jonathan replied, sheathing his sword. ¡°Yet here we are. Honestly, you¡¯re earlier than I expected. How are you, Eleanor?¡± She frowned at him and sheathed the dagger, sighed, and then dropped bonelessly into one of his chairs.

    ¡°After you flashed so much money you know the Reflected Council would want to know what was going on. And how they could get a cut.¡± She blew an annoyed puff of air at a lock of hair that shifted to cover one eye. ¡°I¡¯m really going to get it when they find out you noticed me.¡±

    ¡°If they find out,¡± Jonathan said. ¡°Truthfully, I was hoping they¡¯d send you. Saves me the time of finding you some other way.¡± He found the Council, who styled themselves the rulers of all the shadows cast by the Illuminated King¡¯s light, to be dangerous but useful. They also had the imprimatur of authority from their dealings with higher nobility, and the simple fact that the King had not crushed them.

    ¡°Yeah?¡± Eleanor eyed him, eyes narrowed as she considered his words. ¡°It¡¯s crazy stupid to get the Reflected Council after you on purpose.¡±

    ¡°Probably,¡± Jonathan agreed with a broad smile. ¡°But it got you here, didn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡± Eleanor said skeptically. ¡°And what¡¯s your pitch? You¡¯re going to play me off against the Council?¡±

    ¡°Nothing so brash,¡± Jonathan demurred. ¡°I would just like to invite you along on an expedition. The Council wants a spy on me anyway, so why not one that can pull her weight?¡±

    ¡°What, another expedition after your last?¡± Eleanor scoffed. ¡°So you can leave me to die like you did with old Stoneface and ¡ª urk!¡± Jonathan¡¯s iron grip on her throat choked off the remainder of her imprecation, his hand pinning her against the chair¡¯s back after he closed the distance in an instant. Her hands went for her dagger on reflex, but paused at the look in Jonathan¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°I left nobody,¡± Jonathan said, voice as cold and hard as hammered steel. ¡°I betrayed nobody. We were simply not equal to what we found out there ¡ª a deficiency that I will be correcting. Mock me if you like, but if you question my honor we will have trouble.¡± He let her go, stepping back and leaning on his cane, casual once again. ¡°Do you understand?¡±

    Eleanor¡¯s hands went to her throat as she drew a gasping breath. A touch of fear colored her eyes as she looked at Jonathan, who was not the same man he had been when they had last met. As a younger man he might have been more tolerant, but he had seen the light and now had little compunction about removing those in his way.

    ¡°I understand,¡± she said at length, massaging her throat. ¡°I guess I shouldn¡¯t have accused you,¡± she said grudgingly, and he inclined his head, both of them willing to put the altercation behind them. ¡°But the Reflected Council itself won¡¯t believe you. And they¡¯re going to want more out of you than before, since Stoneface never came back.¡±

    ¡°Then let them know any other agent they try to send along will be dead before we leave the city,¡± Jonathan said casually, twirling his cane. ¡°This is for keeps, Eleanor. I found sunlight.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± She said in disbelief. ¡°That old fairy tale?¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯d seen it, you¡¯d understand,¡± he told her, leaning on his cane once again. He turned to the tray and uncorked the bottle. ¡°Scotch?¡±

    ¡°No thanks,¡± Eleanor said, coughing once or twice. ¡°I should get back. If I¡¯m not coming back with gold, I¡¯ll need to think up a good story.¡±

    ¡°Certainly,¡± Jonathan agreed. ¡°Take your time. We¡¯re not leaving tomorrow, after all.¡±

    Eleanor stood, still eyeing him warily, and melted away into the shadows. There was no sound of doors opening or closing, but Jonathan didn¡¯t expect any. Instead he hummed to himself and looked into the fire as he nursed his drink, thinking of the future.

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    When a summons to the Palace arrived the next day, Jonathan was hardly surprised. It was an annoyance, and likely one the Reflected Council had thrown his way as punishment for embarrassing them even by proxy, but Jonathan could manage it. The only obstacle would be if the Illuminated King decided to ban him from vacating the city entirely, and even that wouldn¡¯t stop him. Not for long.

    Jonathan was leaving, one way or another.

    The Palace was a place of pillars and zint, tall white arches shot through with veins of luminiferous terrestrite, and soldiers with rifles and white gilt swords were posted at every intersection. The central tower, a spiraling spire studded with windows and liberally festooned with zint-lights, rose high into the air above the outer curtain wall. Jonathan¡¯s cane tapped against the stone floor as he followed his guide through the outer gates and around the enormous inner courtyard that surrounded the tower. Bluegreen moss covered the grounds, and elaborately sculpted vines bearing small red fruits covered carved statues.

    Court functionaries and hangers-on strolled through the courtyard, discussing matters of state or the latest gossip, though in most cases there was little difference between the two. Jonathan recognized none of them, though he had never been familiar with the circles of high nobility. He regarded the white-clad types as little more than parasites, trying to draw meaning from their proximity to the Illuminated King.

    Even if the Palace summons was not a surprise, Jonathan found his brows raising as his guide ushered him past the lesser offices and along the path to the central tower itself. He had been expecting to be kept waiting for several hours and having a few go-rounds with some lesser bureaucrat. There would be some bribery, some insincere compliments, maybe a few veiled warnings. But when he was delivered to the Luminatory, Jonathan found himself deeply suspicious.

    The guards on either side of the heavy steel door worked together to turn the wheel that opened it, and Jonathan strode inside. It was in some ways a simple room, carved of stone with a petitioner¡¯s dais in the center and a raised balcony at the other end, but there was something about it that set his teeth on edge. In the Luminatory there was nothing but zint-light. There were no shadows, no colors, the white stone reflecting the exact shade of zint. There were no decorations to distract the eye, nothing but a shrine to the light of zint ¡ª and the King who wielded it.

    Despite his misgiving about the chamber, Jonathan ascended the few steps to the dais, standing in the center until a tone sounded. He went to one knee, head lowered. Even if he was not the most fervent supporter of the Illuminated King, he would not dare to show disrespect. There was no sound, no change in lighting that he could see, but suddenly the hair on the back of Jonathan¡¯s neck prickled and he knew that he was not alone.

    ¡°You may rise,¡± the voice came, deep and resonant and something Jonathan could feel in his bones. He came to his feet and looked up at the Illuminated King.

    Everyone in Beacon had seen the Illuminated King at a distance, atop the palace walls, where powerful spotlights gave him a radiant glow. There were no spotlights in the room, no blinding glow, but the Illuminated King was still cloaked in radiance, a silhouette in reverse. The light was so bright that it washed out any features, though Jonathan could still somehow look directly at it and he didn¡¯t know whether to credit that to some talent of the King¡¯s or his own experience with a light more real than zint.

    ¡°Jonathan Heights,¡± the Illuminated King said. ¡°It has come to Our attention that you are financing an expedition to the east.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Your Majesty,¡± Jonathan said, mind immediately going to the case hidden away in his estate. He had never anticipated the Illuminated King to personally notice his activities, and if there was enough suspicion about the source of his funds or the goals of the expedition, there would be trouble. Breaking out of the Palace or the dungeons would be difficult, to say the least.

    ¡°Following in your father¡¯s footsteps,¡± the Illuminated King remarked.

    ¡°Yes, Your Majesty,¡± Jonathan repeated, more and more disturbed by the tack of the conversation. The Illuminated King surely had better things to do than pay attention to modest explorers like Reginald Heights. Jonathan himself was no more famous, and the old gentleman¡¯s club of the Society of Explorers had even revoked his membership before that last expedition into the deep east.

    Jonathan had simply thought it was jealousy and snobbery, as none of them had ever been so far in that direction. They hadn¡¯t sent a message to him since he had returned though, not even to gloat, which he had found most odd. If the Illuminated King had taken an interest, perhaps there was something more to it.

    ¡°There is word that you have found sunlight,¡± the Illuminated King continued. ¡°We have a certain interest in this matter.¡± Jonathan nodded, despite very much doubting the Illuminated King¡¯s words. Though it was true that despite the brilliance of the light, it had a certain hollow quality next to the memory of that single glimpse of the sun¡¯s radiance. He could well believe that the Illuminated King wanted to harness that somehow.

    ¡°To that end, We will be sending along someone to safeguard Our interests,¡± the Illuminated King said, and Jonathan hid a wince. A direct agent of the Illuminated King would be difficult to deal with, and he certainly wasn¡¯t looking forward to trying to explain it to Eleanor. Nor did he enjoy the added strain of feeding and housing what was probably an entire retinue on a ship that would already be fairly crowded. ¡°In return, we shall grant you Our token, that you might find your preparations easier.¡±

    Jonathan suddenly found himself holding an inscribed white coin, faintly glowing, without any memory or understanding of how it came to be in his hand. He had to suppress a shudder, his knuckles going white on his cane, and revised what he thought of the Illuminated King. Some of the more cryptic passages in his father¡¯s notes suddenly took on a new meaning, and his distrust of the monarchy became something more than just disliking the foibles of a corrupt nobility.

    ¡°Your Majesty is most generous,¡± Jonathan managed.

    ¡°Yes,¡± the Illuminated King said, the deep voice sounding almost amused. ¡°We are.¡± The bright light dimmed, and he was gone. The tone sounded once again and there came the sound of the door opening behind him, which Jonathan took that to mean the audience was over. He stowed the glowing white coin inside the breast pocket of his suit and bowed to the empty balcony for good measure, before making his way back out into more reasonable light and colors other than white.

    For all that royal attention was unwelcome, the token was quite useful. Jonathan contemplated it as Johann drove the carriage back to his estate, rolling the coin between his fingers. While it wouldn¡¯t pay for anything itself, it would open doors at the best shipyards and zint-wrights, ones that money alone did not. Once again, he mounted the stairs to his modest estate, and when Agnes let him in she motioned to the small front room.

    ¡°A Captain Montgomery here to see you, sir,¡± she said. ¡°He¡¯s been waiting for nearly thirty minutes.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Agnes,¡± Jonathan said, reaching up to touch the coin in his breast pocket. ¡°Show him to my study.¡±

    ¡°Right away, sir,¡± Agnes said with a curtsey, and Jonathan climbed to the next floor, entering a small room filled with books and artifacts, ones too fragile or controversial to be displayed in the halls. The most incendiary were locked up in the safe, but the scraps of paper and fragments of pottery in the glass cases on his shelves hinted at cities and civilizations that officially never existed. His crown jewel was an ancient map, inked on some decrepit and crumbling scrap of cloth, that marked the place where the city of Beacon would eventually be with an ominous glyph in faded red.

    The artifacts in the study were arranged in such a way to instill discomfort and dread, each grotesque statue or framed symbol gathered together to insult the eye and the mind. For most it would be enough to turn them away from the room, filled with an unnamable certainty they shouldn¡¯t be there. Jonathan¡¯s eyes saw right through it, as he had seen far stranger and more profound things in his travels.

    A glance around showed that despite the Reflected Council¡¯s interest in his treasury, there hadn¡¯t been any attempts at looting his study. Not that they would have gotten far with their usual methods, given where the money case had been stowed. He set his cane aside and took a shard of distorted mirror from where it was mounted on the wall and angled it to reflect the safe, reaching out to slide his fingers into a series of grooves on the top of the heavy floor safe. Inside each one was a switch that took all his strength to throw, stiff springs giving way to open the secret top compartment of the squat iron safe with a click. Still using the mirror, he removed the case and set it on his desk before closing the hidden space and returning the mirror shard to its place.

    The entire evolution only took a few seconds, so he was seated and waiting by the time Agnes ushered Montgomery in and Jonathan bade him sit. Despite the drinking the captain had undoubtedly indulged in the previous night, he looked fresh and alert and professional, the dark blue airman¡¯s uniform spotless and his captain¡¯s wings gleaming with fresh polish. His face, though, sagged slightly as he settled into the high-backed chair.

    ¡°I understand you got called up to the Palace this morning,¡± he said, by way of conversation. ¡°Is ¡ª is the deal still on?¡±

    ¡°It certainly is,¡± Jonathan assured him, smiling and producing the white coin by sleight of hand, showing it off to Montgomery. ¡°Not only is the deal still intact, but we will have preferred treatment refitting the Endeavor.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Montgomery blinked, taking in the softly glowing piece of metal. ¡°God¡¯s trousers,¡± he said. ¡°I didn¡¯t think you were that well connected.¡±

    ¡°It pays to have friends in high places,¡± Jonathan said modestly, not at all bothered about misrepresenting the situation. ¡°I assume for today you¡¯ll want an advance and a promissory note to begin the process. Though for anything requiring this, I will need to go along.¡± He held up the coin and then palmed it again. Burden though it was, the token of the Illuminated King was something he was not letting out of his grasp.

    ¡°Yeah, I need to get my crew back together,¡± Montgomery said, weathered face wrinkling again, though in thought rather than distress. ¡°Plus I need a new cook and at least two mechanics¡­¡±

    ¡°I will leave those matters in your capable hands,¡± Jonathan told him. ¡°For the cargo, I have ample experience with outfitting such expeditions and will provide you a starting point. Of course, we will only know the Endeavor¡¯s exact tonnage after the refit, but we can begin shipping supplies out to Danby¡¯s Point by train.¡± They could cross the hundred-plus miles to the eastern point of the kingdom far faster if the Endeavor wasn¡¯t fully loaded, and all things considered it was cheaper to send things by train. He lifted the case and opened it once again, taking out several of the blank golden plates and sliding them across to Montgomery. ¡°I trust exchanging these will be no problem?¡±

    ¡°Not at all,¡± Montgomery said, a twinkle in his eye as he picked up the plates and then slid them into the pocket inside his suit coat. ¡°I might well be acquainted with dealings that might evade the eye of the Crown¡¯s taxes and customs enforcers.¡±

    ¡°I would think less of you if you didn¡¯t,¡± Jonathan said with a chuckle. ¡°I have found such folk useful myself, a time or two.¡± The good captain might well find that the exchange was better than he¡¯d remember though, with the Reflected Council keeping an eye on things. After all, they¡¯d want to encourage spending the gold so they got their cut.

    If they resorted to actually robbing Montgomery, though, he would be quite put out with them. A discontent they might well not survive.

    Montgomery stayed for a little longer, the two men exchanging stories from their time out beyond the walls, but it mostly served to confirm what Jonathan had already discovered. Montgomery was a man who preferred to be out flying, not stuck in the stifling confines of a city, and knew exactly how to do that without dying. The current state of the Endeavor didn¡¯t reduce Jonathan¡¯s opinion of him. He well knew that danger lurked in the darkness.

    After Montgomery left, Jonathan dialed the combination on the heavy safe and opened the main compartment, pulling out an old leather notebook and a battered map case. He spread the map across his desk, weighting down the corners, and flipped open the notebook. Neither of them had any markings in any human tongue, ciphers holding their secrets close as he referenced one with the other. The Endeavor¡¯s repair would take months, even with the favor of the Illuminated King, and he had plenty of work to do in the meantime.

    Simply going east was not enough. Even with the best Beacon had to offer, they would have to rest, resupply, get their bearings, and repair whatever damage they might have sustained in the black wilderness. Over his many expeditions ¨C even his last, ill-fated one ¨C he had charted crumbling mines, ruined cities, isolated oases, and the migrations of caravans by races the Illuminated King did not acknowledge. Such resources ¨C especially veins of raw terrestrite, to distill more zint fuel for their ship ¨C would be of utmost importance on the journey.

    The sound of bells interrupted his work, and he looked up from the papers, taking his hat and cane from the stand and flipping the latch on the balcony. He stepped outside, looking upward as the warning bells tolled through the city while the crown¡¯s soldiers shouted at people to clear the streets. Around him, other people emerged into the chill air, and zint spotlights were turned upward. At first they caught nothing, then a few sparkling flakes drifted into view.

    Far away and upward, Jonathan could see the faint blue-green flashes in the blackness of the sky outlining the enormous bulk of a herd of glacilium, the mountain-sized ice beings migrating south on their annual journey. It was a matter of heated debate whether they brought winter with them or merely heralded it, but the snow cascading off their upper slopes always covered Beacon in white when they passed. With that snow came the glaciwings that lived on the floating behemoths, pestiferous winged creatures that could do real damage to the unsuspecting civilian.

    Jonathan was neither unsuspecting nor a civilian, so he stayed outside to watch the glacilium pass overhead. The snow went from a few flakes to a full blizzard, turning the spotlights from narrow beams into bright smears, and soldiers bustled to the tops of the towers spotted throughout the quarter to deal with the pests. He leaned on his cane, one hand clutching his hat as a sudden gust of wind threatened to snatch it away, and eyed the guns the soldiers were mounting. They did not look like any rifle he¡¯d ever seen, with an overlarge steel tube and glass piping.

    When the first shadow appeared above he had his answer, as the guns hummed with zint and spat light shards from one barrel after another, rapidly shredding the thing before it fully emerged from the shrouding blizzard. It plummeted lifelessly onto the deserted streets below, darkening the snow with blood. Jonathan hummed thoughtfully. He¡¯d never seen the weapons before, but they would undoubtedly be useful on the trip east.

    ¡°The street sweepers are going to have their work cut out for them,¡± he remarked, apparently to nobody in particular. For a few seconds there was only the sounds of zint-weapons working and the cries of injured glaciwings, then Eleanor faded into view behind him. She had on a heavier coat than before, and her own hat was pinned firmly in place as she scowled at him.

    ¡°How do you do that?¡± She asked, crossing over to stand next to him on the balcony. Her booted feet made no tracks in the snow. He just chuckled.

    ¡°Has the Reflected Council made a decision?¡± Jonathan asked mildly.

    ¡°Maybe. You¡¯ve said why you want me to go along, but why should I want me to go along?¡± Eleanor brushed a lock of hair away from her face with a frown.

    ¡°Aside from secrets, treasures, and myths?¡± Jonathan smiled at her and looked back up to the skies. ¡°Do you think that the Reflected Council suspects that their tool is not really loyal to them?¡±

    ¡°Is that a threat?¡± Eleanor asked, her voice hard, and her dagger appeared in her hand.

    ¡°Certainly not,¡± Jonathan assured her. ¡°I was merely remarking on your basic character. While I have been away some time, the Eleanor I know would not hold any particular affection for such employers.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a short leash,¡± Eleanor admitted, after a pause as the zint-gun whined and sent a glaciwing careening off the opposite building. ¡°This damn well better be something amazing, Jonathan, and I¡¯m not talking about some sunlight nonsense. Or I might as well not come back.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps we should go inside,¡± he suggested, glancing around at the snow-muffled surroundings. Eleanor followed his look, shrugged and opened the balcony door. He followed her in and closed it behind them, drawing the curtains while she flopped down in guest chair, giving the map a critical eye.

    ¡°You know that I can read that, right?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I did not know you could read that,¡± Jonathan said, hanging up his hat and cane again and seating himself at the desk. ¡°I¡¯ll have to change the ciphers again.¡±

    ¡°Eh,¡± she waved it away. ¡°You can¡¯t hide it from the Council and we¡¯re the only ones who probably can. But you¡¯ve got something other than this wild chase going on, I can smell it. That last expedition wasn¡¯t really a failure, was it?¡±

    ¡°Can you imagine what would happen if word got out that I was going after some impossible treasure?¡± Jonathan asked with amusement, and reached inside his jacket for the coin. He held it up to show her, catching her attention, before closing it in his fist. ¡°You¡¯re not the only one who is suspicious. The crown is sending someone along as well.¡±

    ¡°Ho, that¡¯s not something you see often,¡± Eleanor said, sitting up straight. ¡°Who is His Majesty sending? One of those Lux Guards? Those things give me the shivers.¡±

    ¡°I have no idea,¡± Jonathan said, though he didn¡¯t like the sense he got from the faceless, armor-clad elites either. ¡°I¡¯ve just been warned that we¡¯ll have a passenger representing the Crown¡¯s interests.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯ll be fun,¡± Eleanor said, idly toying with the coin. ¡°Guess I¡¯ll dust off one of my old identities.¡± Jonathan glanced at his hands and raised his eyebrows.

    ¡°Now, that was impressive,¡± he said, and held out his hand. Eleanor flashed him a satisfied smile and dropped the coin into it. He tucked it back inside his suit pocket, patting it to make sure it was still there after he¡¯d done so.

    ¡°About time I got one over on you,¡± she grinned.

    ¡°And it shows why I¡¯d rather have you along,¡± Jonathan said with a laugh. ¡°After all, expeditions are dangerous. But the point is, it might well give you a chance to slip your leash.¡± He didn¡¯t mention that if they weren¡¯t successful, it wasn¡¯t likely that they¡¯d return at all.

 Chapter Two

    The fires of the Industrial Quarter blazed, turning the gently falling snow into a steady drizzle that rattled softly upon the roof of the carriage.  Johann drove Jonathan and Montgomery through streets crowded with big, rumbling transports, the thin carriage wheels skittering occasionally on the wet stone of the road.  The chauffeur had his hat jammed tight down over his ears as he gripped the steering wheel with one hand, the other holding the throttle lever.

    Montgomery watched, his own hands twitching and his big weathered face turned down in distaste.  Jonathan felt the side of his mouth twitch up in half a smile, but his heart really wasn¡¯t in it.  His old friend Captain Hardiman had been just as uncomfortable being a passenger, preferring to walk rather than let someone else control any vehicle used.  But Captain Hardiman hadn¡¯t made it back.

    The carriage went past white-brick tenements crowded up against the walls of the ironworks, where only the orange glow of gas lamps pushed back the darkness.  Paradoxically, the darkest part of the Industrial Quarter were the huge stacks where luminiferous terrestrite was extracted and distilled, the low thrumming of an enormous, drawn-out zint vibrating the carriage windows.  They loomed up from the center of the Industrial Quarter, columns of glass and steel that occasionally flickered from a stray discharge.

    Johann navigated them past the stacks, where the grim armor of the Crown¡¯s guards barred the gates that led through the tall wrought-iron fence, to the far side where the shipwright industries sprawled up and along the scarred cliffs of Haphan¡¯s Bluff.  The shipyard offices stood at the top with docking masts projecting from towers above and continuing down the cliff face. The skeletons of half-finished airships were visible only as illuminated splotches past the rain and snow, despite the powerful spotlights that covered the bluff.  He stopped the carriage out front of Campbell Yards, hurrying around to open the door for Jonathan and Montgomery.

    ¡°Thank you, Johann,¡± Jonathan said, picking up a small case from the carriage bench before he descended to the rain-slick cobbles.

    ¡°Certainly, sir,¡± the chauffeur replied, closing the door behind Montgomery.  ¡°Shall I just drive around the block a few times while you¡¯re busy?¡±

    ¡°A fine idea,¡± Jonathan agreed before striding forward under the decorated iron gate proclaiming the name of the engine manufacturer.  Montgomery fell in next to him as they hurried to get out of the rain.

    ¡°Mister Heights!  Mister Montgomery!¡±  An ebullient mustachioed gentleman in a thick leather smock beamed at them from the entrance, taking their offered hands in quick succession and giving them a vigorous shake.  ¡°I¡¯m Carter. I understand you¡¯re in the market for new engines?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Montgomery replied.  ¡°We¡¯ll need four of them, cross-mounted, high efficiency for the Imperious weight class.  Was hoping to see your models.¡±

    ¡°Excellent, excellent!  Yes, I have it out on the floor already, right this way!¡±

    Carter led them past offices with myceliplank paneling and used a key on a heavy iron door, opening it with a grunt to usher them into a large open warehouse where airship parts hung on chains as thick as Jonathan¡¯s wrist.  Everything had the gold-grey luster of carisium, the only metal worth using on airships, and the sheer amount of it was impressive to Jonathan¡¯s eye.  His last ship had been mostly myceliplank, aside from the envelope superstructure.

    Jonathan¡¯s cane clicked on the floor as he trailed Montgomery down and to the warehouse, where a cigar-shaped piece of metal three times the size of a man was mounted in an apparatus with a huge gauge at the top.  Carter ignored the other workers who were assembling, repairing, and polishing engines in the rest of the warehouse and gestured excitedly at the one he¡¯d clearly prepared for them.

    ¡°This is our newest model, the Carter eight-oh-one!¡±  He beamed proudly.  ¡°We¡¯ve replaced the auxiliary pumps with inline turbines¡ª¡±  Jonathan only half listened as Carter extolled the virtues of the design, far more concerned with studying the people in the warehouse.  Campbell Yards had an excellent reputation, but the downside to ensuring that the Reflected Council took interest in his business was that everyone else took interest too.  Trouble was inevitable, though when and where was still up to question.

    ¡°¡ªand the glass is tempered using a new technique to render it nearly as tough as carisium.¡±  Carter reached out to rap on the glass panel that took up almost the entire back of the engine.  Jonathan raised his eyebrows and hefted his cane, nodding at the engine.

    ¡°May I?¡± He asked.

    ¡°Go right ahead!  I daresay you¡¯ll find it difficult to crack the stuff,¡± Carter said confidently.

    Jonathan flipped the cane around, holding it by its tip, and swung the metal handle into the glass.  Everyone but Jonathan and Carter winced at the sound of the impact, which echoed throughout the warehouse, but the glass remained unbroken.

    ¡°Impressive,¡± Jonathan said, and glanced at Montgomery. ¡°Your thoughts, Captain?¡±

    ¡°Oh, she¡¯ll do alright,¡± Montgomery said, looking at the engine with raw avarice.  ¡°If everything that Mister Carter said is true, the Endeavor will be able to fly rings around anyone else in her class.  At least, until everyone else upgrades to ¡®em.¡±

    ¡°Mister Carter,¡± Jonathan said, hooking the cane over one arm and lifting up the small case.  ¡°Might I ask, how much better would those engines perform with one of these?¡± He opened it, revealing four of the luminiferous gems and, less importantly, a small number of gold plates for a down payment.

    ¡°Oh.  Oh my.¡±  Carter stared at the gems, practically drooling.  ¡°I say ¡ª we can test it out right now.  May we?¡±

    ¡°Certainly, if you can guarantee no damages,¡± Jonathan said, plucking out one of the gems in its setting and closing the case again.

    ¡°Of course not,¡± Carter said, almost affronted.  He turned and started shouting, and in moments someone had dragged over a worktable and a pair of people had clambered up onto the engine, popping open the casing and working at the interior.  One of them extracted a disk nearly a foot across, a complex network of glass tubing with brass fittings, and passed it down to Carter.  Placing it on the worktable, he carefully took the gem and opened a fitting in the center of the disk and carefully slotted it in.

    The disk was returned to the engine and a glass tank full of zint dangling from the ceiling pulleys was pulled over and drained into the engine.  Jonathan watched the proceedings with interest, though he couldn¡¯t see exactly what happened inside the engine.  All he could see was that the engine¡¯s back panel began to glow and the mounting apparatus clicked as all the slack was taken up.

    Carter began turning a dial on the side of the engine mount, and the glow brightened.  Jonathan held out a hand, not feeling anything from the luminance, but the gauge at the top began climbing.  He was hardly familiar with the specifics of airship design, but the better the engines worked, the faster they¡¯d get there and the less risks they¡¯d take.  The mount creaked as the pressure grew, until the dial finally stabilized.

    ¡°That is marvelous,¡± Carter said with an almost boyish enthusiasm, stroking at his moustache as he regarded the readout.  ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯d disclose where you got those?  The synthetic versions aren¡¯t nearly as effective.¡±

    ¡°Not at the moment,¡± Jonathan demurred.  Carter drooped, from his posture all the way down to his moustache, and shut off the engine.  The dial dropped and the mount groaned softly as it settled back into its resting position.  ¡°I believe we¡¯re ready to confirm the commission.¡±

    ¡°Aye, I can¡¯t wait to see those on the Endeavor,¡± Montgomery confirmed.

    ¡°Then,¡± Carter said, marshalling his enthusiasm once again.  ¡°There is just one small matter.  These are a restricted item still and¡ª¡±  Jonathan reached into the pocket of his coat and plucked out the coin, holding it up for Carter to inspect.  The man gingerly reached to take it, examining it closely on both sides before returning it.

    ¡°Everything is in order!¡±  Carter said, clapping his hands together.  ¡°I see you brought a deposit, in addition to the gems,¡± he said, nodding to the case that Jonathan held.  ¡°Give me a moment and I will write you a receipt.¡±

    ¡°And you will ensure that these specific gems will be used in our engines,¡± Jonathan said.  It was not a question.

    ¡°I will stake our reputation on it,¡± Carter said firmly.  Jonathan nodded and reached inside his suit pocket for a pen.

    ¡°It does my heart good to think that the Endeavor is going to better than ever when she¡¯s fixed,¡± Montgomery said as they left Campbell Yards, heading out to the front gate where the carriage should be parked.  ¡°She¡¯s a wonderful old girl, and she deserved better than to be scrapped just because His Majesty stirred up trouble at Gillar¡¯s Folly.  Without warning anyone.¡±  Montgomery brooded on it for a moment, his head bowed against the rain.

    Jonathan opened his mouth to reply, then paused, looking into the darkness beyond the illuminated raindrops.  His cane swept upward with a blur, the deflected knife disappearing into the darkness with a metallic clatter.  He opened his mouth to warn Montgomery, but stopped when he saw that the captain¡¯s hands had already dipped into his heavy overcoat and come out with brass knuckles.

    ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± Montgomery demanded, fists coming up defensively.  ¡°I¡¯ll have you!¡±

    ¡°Four,¡± Jonathan muttered quickly.  ¡°Three in front, one behind.¡±  He hadn¡¯t even quite finished the sentence before the ones at the front rushed in.  Montgomery, no fool, immediately spun around and dashed off to deal with their flanker, leaving the bulk of the attackers to him.

    There were three men with knives, all with ruddy skin and trimmed beards, each in a blue sailor¡¯s uniform.  He noticed that they each wore a pistol, but hadn¡¯t used them, perhaps attempting to keep the ambush unseen.  Jonathan¡¯s sword hissed out of his cane and he lunged forward, having no desire to be surrounded.  While he didn¡¯t know who had sent them, the ambushers were badly misinformed about whom they were up against.

    Jonathan took the first man through the throat with the lunge, but the other two had commendable reflexes and closed in with their knives out, trying to get inside the range of Jonathan¡¯s sword.  Even with his wide and storied experience, Jonathan preferred never to fight against poor odds and took several quick steps back and to the side, flicking his sword to deflect another thrown knife.

    There was a grunt behind him and Jonathan risked a momentary look back, seeing that Montgomery had seized his opponent¡¯s knife hand and was dealing with him by the simple expedient of repeatedly punching him in the face.  Heartened by his companion¡¯s resilience, Jonathan focused on his own combatants, one of which was still advancing and the other of which had begun to draw his pistol.

    Abandoning any attempts at finesse, Jonathan leapt forward and drove his blade through the chest of the closer attacker, grabbing at the dying man¡¯s pistol with his other hand.  The man made a choking noise, his rancid breath washing against Jonathan¡¯s face.  It took another instant to free the pistol and then he spun to the side, leaving sword and man to collapse to the ground.

    He aimed and pressed the trigger, the zint humming three times before his last opponent crumpled.  The pistol was more powerful than Jonathan had expected, leaving sizzling holes in the lifeless torso, and Jonathan gave it a look of respect before stowing it inside his own coat.  A glance showed that Montgomery¡¯s opponent was downed as well, the captain still driving his knuckles into the man¡¯s bloodied face with single-minded determination.

    Jonathan bent to retrieve his sword and, after a moment¡¯s thought, the remaining guns.  They hadn¡¯t been nearly so impressive when he¡¯d left on his last expedition, but clearly the technology had been perfected in the years he¡¯d been gone.  Blood ran out onto the rain-slicked stone and was carried away by the water as he walked over to Montgomery, who was just straightening up.

    ¡°Damned parasites,¡± the captain muttered.  ¡°Scum like that give airmen a bad name.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re familiar with them?¡± Jonathan inquired, looking around for the other half of his cane.

    ¡°I know their type,¡± Montgomery grunted.  ¡°Their ship folded or they got kicked out.  Plenty of desperate folk hang around the yards.¡±  He waved a blood-slicked hand at the ruined face of the airman on the ground.  It wasn¡¯t clear that the would-be ambusher was still breathing.  ¡°You could hire ten of these types for a silver.¡±

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    The front door of Campbell Yards opened and their security came running out, white-uniformed shapes appearing out of the rain.  Jonathan shook his head; if things had been left to them, it would have been too late.  Fortunately, he had learned how to properly defend himself out in the wilds, and of course Montgomery was practically built for brawling.

    ¡°If you could bring them up to speed, captain, I would like to go check on the carriage,¡± Jonathan remarked.  ¡°If they¡¯ve hurt Johann, I will be very upset.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, maybe they can save this one for questioning,¡± Montgomery said, none too gently kicking the body at his feet.  Jonathan nodded and hurried off, following the street. Fortunately for his peace of mind, Johann was unconscious but alive.  Someone had merely taken a cosh to the back of his head and left him in the carriage on the side of the road.

    As he eased his chauffeur upright, Jonathan considered why the attack might have happened.  He had invited the attention of the Reflected Council and anticipated the Crown, but neither of them would have any interest in removing him and would be more competent at it besides.  Hiring some random toughs seemed rather more amateur, but he supposed by now word would have spread.  It wasn¡¯t like Jonathan had no enemies at all, either among other explorers or academics whose theories clashed with evidence brought back from expeditions.

    ¡°I¡¯ll talk to Eleanor about it,¡± he muttered to himself, and patted Johann on the shoulder as he stirred.  ¡°Easy there, Johann, you¡¯ve had quite the blow.¡±

    ¡°What ¡ª sir? I¡¯m not sure who¡­¡±  Johann struggled to talk, and Jonathan eased him out of the carriage out onto the wet and windy street, helping him walk around a little to recover and hoping the drizzle blowing into his face would help Johann recover his faculties.

    ¡°You¡¯ll be okay, Johann,¡± Jonathan said, his voice calm and soothing despite the volcanic fury inside at someone who dared to attack him and those that supported his work.  ¡°We¡¯ll just go straight home and you can rest.¡±

    Johann tried to protest, but Jonathan managed to get him seated in the back of the carriage, leaning his head against the cold glass of the rear window.  When Jonathan pulled the carriage inexpertly up to the gate, Montgomery was waiting, shoulders hunched against the cold.  He removed his hand from his pocket long enough to wave, trudging over as Jonathan opened the door to the forward compartment.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid Johann will be under the weather for a bit,¡± Jonathan said.  ¡°Would you care to drive?¡±  Montgomery¡¯s weathered face lit up, and he clambered in as Jonathan took his place next to Johann in the rear.  While propriety may have kept him from the wheel before, he certainly wasn¡¯t going to pass up an excuse to be the one in control.

    Jonathan kept alert to any other ambushes on the drive back, but it seemed like the ruffians had been the only thing at that particular instant.  Which pointed to perhaps something spur-of-the-moment, and indeed it was likely the four thugs had come straight from the dockside only a few minutes away.  Nevertheless, when Montgomery stopped the carriage in the crowded lot down the street from the estate, Jonathan removed one of the pistols he¡¯d filched earlier and handed it over.

    ¡°Better be careful going home.  It¡¯s just barely possible whoever it is will go after you, too.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± Montgomery chewed on the word, taking the pistol and checking it over with an efficacy that showed he had more familiarity with the weapons than Jonathan.  ¡°I¡¯ll have my men make sure the lodge house has proper lookouts.  Treat it like being at one of those southern ports.¡±

    ¡°An excellent plan,¡± Jonathan said, helping a still-groggy Johann out of the carriage.  ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do about ensuring nobody else interrupts us.¡±

    ¡°As you say,¡± Montgomery said.  He didn¡¯t mention how Jonathan had killed three men, which again confirmed Jonathan¡¯s opinion of him.  Both able and discreet was exactly the sort of officer he preferred.  They parted at the front of Jonathan¡¯s building, the captain heading off to find a hired carriage while he helped Johann up the stairs.  Agnes opened the door for them, flustered and unable to decide whether she should take Jonathan¡¯s coat or help Johann.

    ¡°Please, sir, could you stay out of trouble?¡± She asked, a little bit exasperated as she hung their coats.  ¡°Come on Johann, I¡¯ll get you supper.  Sir, we have a guest in the front room.  I think he¡¯s from the Crown,¡± she added, her voice dropping.  ¡°He had the badge on, and his eyes were ¡ª it just gives me a bad feeling, sir.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Agnes,¡± Jonathan said.  ¡°Excellent work, as always.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, sir,¡± she said.

    ¡°I think I¡¯m going to retire early if you don¡¯t need me, sir,¡± Johann said, his eyes clearer though he still winced when he moved his head.  ¡°Just need to put ice on this.¡±

    ¡°Go ahead and call in a physician,¡± Jonathan said, and nodded to Agnes.  She nodded back and guided Johann away to the kitchen.  Jonathan ran his fingers over his suit, despite the fact that it hadn¡¯t been mussed, and hefted the pistols he¡¯d acquired.  The guest could wait a few minutes while Jonathan took care of more immediate matters.

    He mounted the steps to the second story, into his study, and to the heavy safe in the back.  The pistols went into the bottom compartment, to be examined more closely later, and he pulled the money-tray out of the top.  It had neat rows of coins in their various sizes; gold, silver, carisium, copper.  Taking a generous stack of the large silver coins to pay the physician, he returned the money to the safe, locked it, and brought the payment downstairs to Agnes.

    ¡°If you don¡¯t mind me saying so, sir,¡± Agnes said as she took the heavy coins.  ¡°This next expedition you¡¯re planning ¡ª it seems dangerous.  That sort of person coming by and Johann being attacked.  It¡¯s just ¡ª it got rather strained last time, sir.¡±  Jonathan winced.  Though his estate had been in good shape prior to his last expedition, he¡¯d taken so long getting back that the finances had been stretched to the breaking point.

    ¡°Yes, I¡¯ll be making sure that the preparations this time are more robust,¡± he assured her.  ¡°Since I doubt either of you would want to come along.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t even joke about that sir,¡± Agnes said, her eyes going wide.  ¡°I¡¯ve lived in Beacon my whole life and I¡¯ve got no use for wandering beyond the walls.¡±

    ¡°Nothing to worry about, I¡¯m planning to write a letter of introduction to the Wagner family for both of you,¡± he said.  The Wagners weren¡¯t so much his friends as his father¡¯s, but they were still on reasonable terms.  Most of Jonathan¡¯s own friends hadn¡¯t returned from the last, disastrous expedition.

    ¡°Oh, thank you, sir,¡± Agnes said, and bobbed another curtsey before heading off to send a message for the physician.  Jonathan took a breath and braced himself before crossing to the front room.

    The guest stood as Jonathan entered, putting aside one of the books Jonathan kept on the stand, and while he had been expecting something unusual he hadn¡¯t been expecting the visitor to be so young.  Or apparently young; he looked like he was no more than sixteen or seventeen, but when he moved it was with the unconscious grace of someone twice his age.  As Agnes had warned, his eyes were an odd pale blue with white pupils.  Regardless of age, he was dressed in the appropriate white and blue uniform with the torch-and-crown embroidered on it.

    ¡°Mister Jonathan Heights?¡± The stranger offered his hand, and Jonathan took it despite something about the stranger raising the hair on the back of his neck.  ¡°My name is Antomine.  I will be joining your expedition, on orders of the Illuminated King.¡±

    ¡°He mentioned he would be sending a representative,¡± Jonathan said, shaking Antomine¡¯s hand.  The man¡¯s grip was firm, but not crushing.  ¡°While I certainly wouldn¡¯t wish to impugn any agent of the Crown, do you happen to have credentials?¡±

    ¡°Oh!  Yes, that is completely reasonable.¡±  The smile Antomine flashed him was perfectly boyish, more suited to the face he wore, and his hand went to the chain about his neck, fishing an amulet out from beneath his uniform.  It had one of the same faintly glowing coins as Jonathan had been gifted by the Illuminated King.

    ¡°That¡¯ll do for your bona fides,¡± Jonathan admitted, waving Antomine back to his chair and taking a seat in the other armchair.  ¡°I have to admit though, I am not entirely clear on the Illuminated King¡¯s interest in my expedition.  Nobody I¡¯ve run into actually believes in sunlight, and even if they did, some phenomenon at the eastern edge of the world isn¡¯t of any particular import.¡±

    ¡°My liege¡¯s reasons are his own,¡± Antomine said, face firming into a serious expression that didn¡¯t fit with his youthful features.  ¡°But His Majesty has always had a deep and abiding interest in illuminating the secrets beyond humanity¡¯s borders.¡± His pale eyes shone with a zealous light.  ¡°Yours would not be the first expedition that His Majesty has assisted, overtly or not.¡±

    Jonathan set his jaw against several choice responses.  He wasn¡¯t surprised by Antomine¡¯s reticence, but confirmation that the Crown was bringing a secret agenda aboard his ship was quite unwelcome.  A simple soldier or observer or even some toady could be managed, but Antomine seemed to be a more direct agent of the Crown, by the sheer unease he managed to instill if nothing else.

    ¡°Then perhaps you¡¯d like to elaborate on your role on the expedition, instead,¡± Jonathan said, leaning back in the chair as Agnes came in bearing a tray with two glasses and a pitcher of beer.  ¡°Thank you, Agnes,¡± he said.  ¡°Have you had supper yet?¡± Jonathan asked his guest, not just being hospitable.  It was far easier to extract information from someone over a meal than when they were on their guard.

    ¡°Not yet,¡± Antomine said, perking up in the way that adolescent men always did when there was food in the offing.  Jonathan couldn¡¯t place Antomine¡¯s precise age, the man seeming to bounce between being a downy-cheeked youth and a sharp, calculating adult.  Worse, he couldn¡¯t tell whether either part was an act.

    ¡°Dinner for two, please, Agnes,¡± he said, and his housekeeper curtseyed in response.  ¡°So, your role?¡± He prompted Antomine.  ¡°This isn¡¯t a simple two or three week journey to a border town.  It¡¯s going to take months.  I would expect over a year before we can return to Beacon.¡±  Privately, he thought even that was being generous.

    ¡°Mostly I¡¯ve been trained as a chaplain,¡± Antomine said, watching as Jonathan poured beer for them both.  ¡°So in addition to the duties of a priest, I have some facility both with languages and zint weaponry.  Pistols and rifles, or even cannon.¡±  He raised the glass and took a long drink, before putting it down and looking directly at Jonathan.  ¡°And I will not abide any corruption by the things out in the darkness.  Humanity belongs to the light, and all the foul secrets that turn them away need to be purged.¡±

    Jonathan felt the words like a blade to his neck, a sudden certainty that Antomine was talking about him directly.  To him directly.  He wasn¡¯t sure whether that was just his own guilty conscience or if Antomine knew more about his past than seemed possible.  Either way, the young man was far more of a threat than Jonathan had first thought, but not one he could do anything about.  Not within the walls of Beacon, at least.

    ¡°That does make a lot of sense,¡± Jonathan said instead, schooling his voice to be mildly approving.  ¡°I¡¯m sure the men will appreciate someone like that when we¡¯re out past the edge of the map.¡±

    ¡°That is my hope,¡± Antomine said with a smile that seemed to lack any humor.  ¡°I knew you would understand when I saw your collection.  Quite a fascinating exhibition of what might be found out there, though all quite safe.¡±

    ¡°It would be impolitic to have anything controversial out where anyone could see it,¡± Jonathan replied, picking his words with great care.  ¡°I wouldn¡¯t try to strain your credulity by claiming I had never found such things, but I¡¯ve never seen any value in boasting about them.¡±

    Antomine chuckled, any reply he might have made interrupted by Agnes returning with two plates on a tray.  At a glance he could see that Agnes had taken a bit of extra care to provide only the choicest cuts of the bourosteak, and the orange florets had been arranged tastefully with a bit of reduction drizzled over them.  It was more artful than usual, as Agnes recognized that their guest was someone of higher status than Jonathan commonly hosted.

    ¡°The physician came by, sir,¡± Agnes said quietly.

    ¡°Any issue?¡±  He asked, all too aware of Antomine listening in.

    ¡°No sir, just a poultice and to keep from hard alcohol for a few days,¡± Agnes replied.

    ¡°Excellent,¡± Jonathan said, his mind relieved.  Head wounds could be deceptive.  ¡°Thank you, Agnes.¡±

    She curtseyed and breezed out again, clearly uncomfortable with Antomine¡¯s presence.  He hardly blamed her.  Even the way Antomine cut the meat had a sort of strange edge to it.  Energetic, yet precise and focused beyond what the simple act should require.

    ¡°Trouble in the household?¡± Antomine asked mildly, spearing a piece of steak with his fork and lifting it to his lips.  Jonathan considered him for a moment, then decided to take advantage of the man¡¯s connections.  It would probably be faster and easier than trying to get Eleanor to look into it.

    ¡°We ¨C that is to say, Captain Montgomery and I ¨C ran into some thugs outside of Campbell Yard.  I believe we left one of them alive, but my chauffeur was injured so I left everything to the yard¡¯s security.¡±

    ¡°That is certainly deplorable,¡± Antomine said, regarding Jonathan with interest.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Jonathan replied, more or less expecting Antomine¡¯s lack of surprise.  ¡°Considering the Crown¡¯s interest in this expedition, I wonder if I might prevail upon you to direct an inquisitor that way.¡±

    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t do for you to fail before the first hurdle,¡± Antomine agreed, cutting another piece of steak.  ¡°I will have someone look into it.  Though you have more than enough people that wish you ill.¡±

    ¡°I am aware,¡± Jonathan said shortly.  Even if it wasn¡¯t his fault, even if he had made sure the proper people got the proper remuneration, the fact remained that he was the only survivor of the last expedition.  His last expedition.  There was plenty of bad blood to go around.  ¡°But yes, extend my appreciation to whomever takes it up.¡±

    For a time the talk turned to more unthreatening topics, such as whether the glacilium had brought a heavier than usual snowfall ¨C they hadn¡¯t ¨C and the newest publication by the Marvin Press on the history of Beacon ¡ª something Jonathan had only skimmed.  It wasn¡¯t polite to discuss real work over a meal, but Antomine chose topics that didn¡¯t have any real meat and it only made the atmosphere more strained.  Jonathan had to keep revising his opinion of the man, not so much about how dangerous he was, but what type of dangerous.

    ¡°Thank you for the meal,¡± Antomine said at last, putting aside his glass.  ¡°This discussion has been very instructive.  I may be dropping by from time to time, to see how the preparations are going, but I don¡¯t believe I will need to take a direct hand.  However, do ensure that there will be a place for me and two attendants aboard the Endeavor.¡±

    ¡°That won¡¯t be a problem,¡± Jonathan lied.  Having three unwanted agents of the Crown foisted upon him was not a small imposition.  He¡¯d been figuring on no more than six passengers, eight on the outside, and that was after figuring Eleanor¡¯s inevitable shadows into the equation.  There was no way that the Council would let her board unaccompanied, and Jonathan hoped her outriders would be of a similar bent and background as Eleanor herself ¡ª he would be uncomfortable were she to be the only woman on the expedition.

    ¡°I expected not.  After I saw the plans for the Endeavor¡¯s new layout, I knew there¡¯d be plenty of room.¡±  Antomine smiled broadly.  Jonathan inclined his head, but didn¡¯t say anything.  He himself hadn¡¯t seen the plans since, as far as he knew, they were still being drawn up by the engineer for Marshall Shipyards.

    With that twist of the knife, Jonathan showed Antomine out, the young man taking his wide-brimmed hat from Agnes and sauntering down the stairs to the street below.  The carriage waiting there gleamed pure white under the streetlights, the newest model, and was blazoned with the torch-and-crown of the royal arms.  Jonathan let out a long breath as it drove away, half expecting to see the white-pupiled eyes when he turned around.

    ¡°You were right, Agnes,¡± he said as he shut the door.  ¡°He gives me a bad feeling, too.¡±

 Chapter Three

    Jonathan rarely went anywhere without purpose, and his fingers drummed impatiently on the handle of his cane as Johann steered the carriage along frigid streets.  Steam plumed from the streets here and there as maintenance pipes vented their contents, the boilers in the Industrial Quarter working full blast, and the sight reminded Jonathan of another item for his list.  He reached into his jacket pocket as the carriage bumped and jolted, making a note with a small pencil, then returned his regard to the path forward.

    They left the gas-fed streetlamps behind, everything converted to pale zint-light so close to the Noble Quarter.  It was brighter, but the blue-white seemed less honest than the warm orange flow of burning gas that still held sway in the Industrial and Port quarters.  Unfortunately he had no choice, as the address that Eleanor had provided was just outside the Noble Quarter.

    She was, improbably, waiting outside as he pulled up ¡ª a testament to how much she must have disliked the cover story.  It was true that nobody would believe any expedition would take anyone short of an upper-class scholar along, but Eleanor had never developed the patience for playing at aristocracy.  Which was what had driven her down toward the Reflected Council in the first place.

    Johann exited the cab and opened the door for her, his breath puffing in the cold air as Jonathan reached out a hand.  She grabbed it with unladylike strength and mounted the two steps to the cab, settling in next to him and tucking her gloved hands into her coat.  It wasn¡¯t until after Johann had steered the carriage away from the mansion that she relaxed, smoothing a lock of hair away from where it had fallen across her face.

    ¡°Those whoresons!¡± She hissed, and Jonathan glanced at Johann, but he didn¡¯t seem to be able to hear them through the glass divider.  ¡°Do you know where they put me?¡±

    ¡°That was the McAvey manor, wasn¡¯t it?¡±  Jonathan inquired mildly, amused by her sour mood.

    ¡°Yeah, but my sister married a McAvey.  Having to share a house with that simpering little¡ª¡± Eleanor cut herself off.  ¡°Anyway.  Eight-twenty Mercy Park, southeastern Noble Quarter.¡±

    Jonathan rapped on the glass and then opened the little window separating the driver¡¯s section from the passenger cab to relay the instruction.  Johann nodded and pulled levers as he steered onto the proper streets, continuing the climb to the Noble Quarter.  In the penny dreadfuls that Jonathan read on occasion when morbid curiosity overwhelmed him, the black market was always in some Port Quarter basement, full of dimly lit smoke.  That it was actually in the Noble Quarter made more sense, since almost everyone who actually used such a service was certainly a person of means.

    ¡°What do you need to buy there anyway?¡±  Eleanor asked skeptically, still hunched into herself with her hands deep in her pockets.  ¡°I figured the Crown backing you would mean you could get ahold of anything.¡±

    ¡°Not anything, and only if I want the Crown to know.¡±  Jonathan drummed his fingers against the handle of his cane as he watched the city roll by.  ¡°There are some things for which I¡¯d prefer not to have any official attention.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d say that about everything,¡± Eleanor said, her lips curling upward.  ¡°Who needs them interfering?  Guess you¡¯re kind of stuck though.¡±

    ¡°We are,¡± Jonathan reminded her firmly.  ¡°Unless you¡¯ve decided against going along.¡±

    ¡°Oh hell, how could I pass it up?¡±  Eleanor asked.  ¡°Anything to get those leeches on the Council off of my neck.¡±

    ¡°And sunlight doesn¡¯t interest you at all?¡±  Jonathan asked.

    ¡°Eh.  I don¡¯t see the point.  Me, I¡¯m a bit more interested in the loot.¡±  Eleanor straightened up, tilting her head at him and smiling.  ¡°Because we both know there will be something out there.  I saw all the stuff on that map.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t anticipate taking much time out for exploring those old sites,¡± Jonathan said dryly.  ¡°There will be some, but it¡¯s a dangerous proposition.¡±  Simply retracing the same path as his last expedition promised to be quite difficult, and there was far more to finding sunlight than simply looking around.  Before it was over, he was certain Eleanor would be devoutly sick of ruins and mysteries.

    ¡°Yeah, but try and stop me,¡± Eleanor challenged, turning to face him and bracing herself with the roof strap as the carriage bumped around a corner.  ¡°You promised that I might get those people off my back.  The only way to do that is to get something big enough that I can buy my way out.¡±

    ¡°When we reach the furthest points, I will ensure you find enough to sate any greed,¡± Jonathan said, though he personally doubted they would ever let her go.  Not with what she could do.

    Johann guided the carriage down Mercy Park, where a number of large mansions encircled a broad landscaped swath of moss and fungal stands thick with vines.  The zint lights were carefully placed on tall lampposts, showing the colors that remained even in the midst of winter and ensuring there were no shadows within the park.  Their destination was at the far end, one of the oversized estates that were so typical of the noble quarter, with bleached white stone, ornately carved lintels, and a large carriage park for any guests.

    ¡°We shouldn¡¯t be more than an hour,¡± Jonathan said as he exited the carriage, holding his hand out to help Eleanor down.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be right here, sir.¡± Johann said, and produced a worn copy of one of the old adventure novels Jonathan kept in his library.  ¡°Just got a book, if you don¡¯t mind.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s a good one,¡± Eleanor said, peering at the cover.  ¡°You¡¯ll like it.  Right, come on, Jonathan.  I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯ve been here before?¡±

    ¡°Not this one, no,¡± Jonathan said, extending his arm to Eleanor.  She gave him a look of surprise, then laid her hand on his arm and readjusted her posture and face, patting the pillbox hat to ensure she looked properly like a high class lady.  Even if she didn¡¯t like it, Eleanor clearly had practice at pretending to be nobility.

    The butler at the front entrance took their appearance with perfect aplomb, leading them inside and, at a muttered word from Eleanor, into a rear wing of the mansion.  There they were met by a young, foppish man whose overly-broad smile and overly-tall frame implied to Jonathan that he¡¯d been partaking in what he was peddling.  The look of hunger that lurked in the back of his eyes had nothing to do with Eleanor¡¯s youthful beauty or the money-case at Jonathan¡¯s side.

    ¡°Welcome to the gallery,¡± he said, staying almost too close as he beckoned them forward, making Jonathan¡¯s grip tighten on his cane.  ¡°Do tell me if any of the exhibits catch your fancy.¡±  There was an almost manic glee to his words that set Jonathan¡¯s teeth on edge, and judge by the set of her jaw it bothered Eleanor just as much, but it wasn¡¯t like they could go elsewhere.

    The rooms off the long hall of the so-called gallery looked rather like Jonathan¡¯s study, full of trophies and sundries from foreign lands on display, some benign, some things that no god-fearing man would want near him.  There were no prices, and not everything was labeled.  For the unlettered, it would have been tempting and at the same time confusing to browse the exhibits.

    Jonathan didn¡¯t need to browse.  He didn¡¯t want to browse, not when just the sight of certain contorted totems sent talons scratching at the back of his brain.  Perhaps effete nobles who had never been beyond the walls of Beacon found them merely quaint and amusing, but he knew better.  No sane person would want a part of such things.

    He hurried past, glancing briefly into each gallery until he spotted what he wanted.  A large tapestry of an altar in flames hung on the wall, which Jonathan thought was rather on the nose.  It was also something the heretics of the Cult of Flame would have laughed at.  He steered Eleanor into the room, ignoring the books and engraved tablets closer to the door and studying the amphoras and casks of black stone resting on pedestals along one wall.

    ¡°Fire dust?¡±  Eleanor asked skeptically, edging away from a chunk of lava under glass, still orange-veined among black rock, which seemed to radiate a palpable feeling of staggering intensity; some sweet affection that burned with a lust to sink in teeth and tear.

    ¡°On occasion, fire is the best solution,¡± Jonathan said firmly.  ¡°Nothing burns hotter than this.¡±  He tapped the black cask, very lightly, out of respect for what it held inside.  ¡°When heat will not do, nothing burns colder than that.¡±  He inclined his head at the amphora, not wanting to jostle it, though likely both the cask and amphora were actually empty.

    ¡°Never seen unflame in action,¡± Eleanor admitted, readjusting her hat again.  ¡°The Illuminated King doesn¡¯t exactly look kindly on using that kind of stuff in Beacon.¡±

    ¡°I would imagine not.¡±  Nobles playing at occult heresies might be tolerable, and it was best not to look too closely at how the largest families got their wealth and power, but there were lines that were not to be crossed.  Inquisitors were not gentle.

    ¡°If the good sir is interested in the, ah, incendiary goods on display, some additional exhibits might be acquired,¡± the too-friendly gentleman said, discreetly displaying a series of figures scratched on a notepad.  Jonathan glanced at them and pursed his lips, but there was nothing to do except pay it.  There was no time to go all the way south to Godforge, where the heretics performed their rituals atop the great lavafall.

    The bottled flames weren¡¯t his only purchases.  Certain tools had been lost with the last expedition, and with no replacements readily available he had to construct his own.  The wrapped box that the butler delivered promised a number of long nights in his study, and the receipt promised that his combustible supplies would be shipped out to Danby¡¯s Point at the eastern edge of the kingdom, one anonymous box amongst many that they would load before departing into the dark.

    ¡°My apologies, sir, that item is not available,¡± the attendant said as Jonathan inspected a plate of black, light-eating rock.  Jonathan raised his eyebrows and gestured wordlessly at the example on display.

    ¡°That is reserved, sir,¡± the attendant said with faux regret.

    ¡°Even at double price?¡± Jonathan asked, having no wish to haggle but the material was requisite.

    ¡°Even so, sir,¡± the attendant replied, and Jonathan frowned but didn¡¯t bother making a scene.  Not there.  He gave Eleanor a glance and continued on, making note of which items would need to be pilfered from their owners, if not the market directly.  It would be cleaner to have Eleanor do it, but it would get done, one way or another.

    He left the mansion considerably lighter in purse, though the total expense was nothing compared to the reconstruction of the Endeavor.  He¡¯d already spent most of the largesse he¡¯d returned with, and had quietly begun selling off items of his collection, and his father¡¯s.  While Jonathan had planned things quite closely, and left considerable cushion, he still found it alarming how quickly his reserves had dwindled.

    ¡°I need these,¡± Jonathan said after they got into the carriage, quickly writing out the short list of unobtainable ingredients and handing it over to Eleanor.  ¡°I¡¯ll pay you directly.¡±

    ¡°Absolutely,¡± Eleanor said with wicked glee, taking the piece of paper and stuffing into a pocket.  ¡°Should be fun.  Any other errands I can get paid for?¡±  Eleanor asked as Johann closed the door behind them.  He clambered into the driver¡¯s compartment to start steering the carriage back out of the mansion grounds.  ¡°I¡¯d rather not spend any more time with my sister¡¯s family than I have to.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re still months away from leaving,¡± Jonathan said, letting the amusement into his voice.

    ¡°Believe me, every hour counts,¡± Eleanor muttered.  Jonathan considered the matter, drumming his fingers on his cane.  Eleanor looked at him pleadingly, and he had to stifle a laugh.  Obtaining his supplies was the best thing she could do to advance most of his preparations, as he had been bent to such tasks while the Endeavor¡¯s refit was ongoing, but there was a certain task which was necessary to prevent any unnecessary delays.

    ¡°If you don¡¯t mind doing some even more off-the-books work,¡± he began, and Eleanor immediately brightened, life coming into her eyes.  ¡°With the Crown interested in this expedition I don¡¯t trust that they¡¯ve left the Endeavor¡¯s refit alone.  Or the Reflected Council, for that matter.¡±  He rapped on the glass separating the compartments and instructed Johann where to go, then leaned back as the carriage lurched into motion.

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°Then there¡¯s the people who attacked me,¡± he added, since that was the wildcard.  There hadn¡¯t been any repeat incidents, but that meant nothing.  ¡°The Crown hasn¡¯t found anyone connected to it, but I suppose it¡¯s hard to draw information from corpses.  So you see how I might be worried about sabotage.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±  Eleanor chewed on her lip, eyes going distant for a moment as she turned the job over in her mind.  ¡°I don¡¯t know much about airship design but I can skulk about, see if there¡¯s anyone or anything suspicious.  You have designs I can reference?  I¡¯ve learned how to read blueprints, at least.¡±

    ¡°Easily done,¡± Jonathan assured her.  His estate was on the way to the dockyards anyway, so it was barely a detour.  She studied them with her finger tapping her lips as Johann steered the carriage up the long switchbacks of Haphan¡¯s Bluff, the big towers where the airships moored growing ever more clear.  Spotlights shone on the vessels docked at the ends of cantilevered pylons, illuminating them against the empty black abyss of the sky.

    The Endeavor was floating on the lowest pylon at Crowley, Stanford, and Moore, the drydock cradle filled with cranes, carisium stock, and crates under canvas.  Much of the ship had been badly mangled, but the envelope superstructure had survived, along with the main beam, figurehead, and most importantly the commissioning plaque.  That made it just a repair and not a new ship; a vital point since only fools and madmen would take a brand new ship out into the dark wilds.

    By the time he stepped out of the carriage Eleanor was already gone, melted away from sight.  There was no telling how long her investigation would take, but Jonathan trusted that she had her own way home.  The decks were only half-completed, not yet fit for habitation, and he had already studied the specifications from the blueprints.  It was a state of affairs where no sane engineer would want the customer underfoot, and yet he was underwriting the vast cost of the refit and so the venerable engineering concern of Crowley, Stanford, and Moore had no choice but to indulge him.

    Of those who had given the company its name, only Crowley was there to greet him, a man of heroic proportions and arms like pistons, bald head gleaming like the metal that surrounded him.  Some terrible accident had claimed his voice, the scars standing out in angry red on the pale skin of his neck and jaw, but he didn¡¯t need to speak to communicate.  His silences were more eloquent than most people¡¯s dissertations.

    The two of them entered the oversized paternoster, rising up to the drydock where the Endeavor was undergoing her reconstruction.  Up close, Jonathan was struck by the sheer size of the airship, something significantly larger than the one he¡¯d ridden on before.  The bare carisium beams and deck struts hung below the envelope, tangled with the glass piping and reservoirs for zint lights and engines.  Three full decks, running the entire length of the envelope, pointed fore and aft and with the nacelles for the engines already under construction.

    ¡°Have you had any issues with people trying to sneak in?¡± Jonathan asked, and Crowley made a few brief gestures, finishing with a clenched fist.

    ¡°A wise choice.¡±  Jonathan tapped his cane against the floor, watching as men crawled through the deck skeleton to connect ducts and piping.  A crane integrated into the main tower swung a piece of carisium decking in a ponderous arc before solid, sweat-sheened workmen caught the guidelines to wrestle it into place.  ¡°Did you settle on the weaponry?¡±

    Crowley conveyed certain details with the twist of his mouth and the set of his jaw, a flip of his wrist to encompass the yard.  He crossed arms as thick as lampposts and raised an eyebrow at Jonathan.  It wasn¡¯t the answer that Jonathan had wanted, but about what he had expected.  Of course the Crown would interfere, and while newer equipment was better it came with certain expenses.

    The Illuminated King didn¡¯t need money, but the bureaucracy he employed certainly had no compunctions about squeezing what they could from the process.  Even the king¡¯s token wouldn¡¯t change that.  Antomine was the most likely suspect for forcing the weaponry upgrades, because he wouldn¡¯t have realized there was all too much out there that brute force was helpless against.

    Eleanor didn¡¯t really need him to distract Crowley, or anyone else for that matter, but he did his due diligence while he was at the yard and found out everything he could about the progress on the Endeavor.  It all went into his little notebook, though Jonathan doubted he would ever have to reference it.  The venerable firm of Crowley, Stanford, and Moore would never do anything that might injure their reputation.

    He trusted Eleanor more.  Straightforward and honest people were to be applauded, but they were simply not twisted enough to know all the tricks of the underhanded.  All too many eyes were on the expedition and simple spite might motivate Jonathan¡¯s professional rivals to act against him, to say nothing of factions within the Reflected Council and the Crown.

    Once home, he spent the next days taking advantage of the materials he had purchased.  Certain preparations took time, both due to caution and simply because of the nature of the task.  Alchemical reagents had to steep, polished wood had to season.   It was still enough to keep him busy, closeted in his study.

    ¡°Eleanor.¡±  He greeted her without looking up from his work, the only sound in his study the ticking of the clock.  An apparatus of polished metal and whorled stone lay half-finished on his desk, each component innocent on its own but forming something painful to the eye at the edges where they joined.  ¡°It¡¯s been weeks.  I was beginning to worry.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I was perfectly fine,¡± Eleanor said, fading into view already seated in the chair across from him.  She reached out to drop the blueprints on his desk before stretching and lounging against the armrest.  ¡°That was the most fun I¡¯ve had in ages.  Do you have any idea how many secrets pass through that shipyard?¡±

    Jonathan looked up at her, taking a small cloth and dropping it over his work.  Instantly the room seemed brighter, or perhaps smaller.  Eleanor blinked, looking at the rippled folds of woven silk with some distaste, and rubbed her eyes.

    ¡°Nothing too clandestine, I hope?¡±  He asked mildly, having no wish to become embroiled in anyone else¡¯s dealings.

    ¡°The usual.  Smuggling, artifacts, bribery, spying.¡±  Eleanor shrugged and reached into the pocket of her greatcoat to pull out a trio of glass baubles that she rolled in her palm.  ¡°There was a Crown agent and a Council agent both on the Endeavor.  It was great watching them try to pretend they didn¡¯t know about each other.  I did pull these out of some of the zint tanks though.  Not sure who put them there or how they¡¯re supposed to be triggered.¡±  She dropped the glass spheres on his desk and Jonathan reached out to examine them.

    He only knew so much about how zint mechanisms worked.  The deepest secrets of luminiferous terrestrite were beyond most people, either by inclination or design, but he could understand the basics.  A single spike, driven by a tiny mechanism, would break the glass sphere from the inside and release its contents.

    ¡°It appears we have attracted the attention of someone unpleasant,¡± he said putting them down again.  ¡°Though I¡¯m surprised that was the only sabotage.¡±

    ¡°Oh, it wasn¡¯t,¡± Eleanor waved a hand.  ¡°But the shipyard people found the rest of it and dealt with the worker who did it.  Problem is, it was the widow Hardiman who paid the man off.¡±  She gave him a significant look and Jonathan sighed, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes briefly.  Captain Hardiman had been a good friend, but the wife far less so.  It did not require any special insight to understand how affronted she might be that Jonathan, the only survivor, was simply chartering another expedition as if nothing had ever happened.

    ¡°There is very little to be done about that,¡± he concluded.  ¡°We will simply have to¡ª¡±  He was interrupted by a rapping on the door.

    ¡°Pardon me for intruding, sir.¡±  Agnes¡¯ voice floated through the closed door.  ¡°That gentlemen is in the front room again.  Mister Antomine.¡±

    ¡°Really?  Exactly now?¡±  Eleanor stood up, glancing at the door to the balcony.

    ¡°Coincidences are to be expected, but not that one,¡± Jonathan agreed.  ¡°Does anyone at the Council know you came to see me?¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡±  Eleanor scowled.  ¡°That son of¡ª¡±

    ¡°You would have had to meet anyway,¡± Jonathan said.  ¡°Now might be as good a time as any.¡±

    ¡°Bah,¡± Eleanor said, shedding her greatcoat to reveal a modest dress underneath and hanging the heavy garment on the stand by the door.

    ¡°Someday you¡¯ll need to tell me what you did to annoy someone on the Council,¡± Jonathan said.

    ¡°No,¡± Eleanor said shortly, settling back into her chair.  ¡°I won¡¯t.¡±  Jonathan raised his eyebrows at that, but shrugged.  It wasn¡¯t his business.

    ¡°Come in for a moment, would you, Agnes?¡± He called, raising his voice slightly.  The door opened and his housekeeper stepped into the room, her eyes widening slightly as she saw Eleanor sitting in the chair.

    ¡°This is Eleanor McAvey,¡± Jonathan said, using her alias.  Out of respect for him, it was the same name that Jonathan was used to, though that wasn¡¯t the name she was born with or, for that matter, used anywhere else.  ¡°She¡¯s been here for the past several hours.¡±

    ¡°Of course, sir,¡± Agnes said, immediately understanding and giving Eleanor a curtsey.  ¡°A carriage dropped her off, did it?¡±

    ¡°That will do,¡± Jonathan agreed.  ¡°Show Mister Antomine up, please.¡±

    ¡°Certainly, sir,¡± Agnes replied, and closed the door behind her as she left.  Eleanor watched her go.

    ¡°She¡¯d do well working for the Council, with nerves like those.¡±  Eleanor tapped a finger to her lips in thought.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare.¡± Jonathan gave her a warning look, and Eleanor laughed.  The door opened again and Agnes showed the peculiar white-pupiled man inside.  He was dressed in white much as before, the outfit being slightly heavier as befit the weather, and he flashed Jonathan a boyish smile as he entered.

    ¡°Good to see you again,¡± he said, turning to Eleanor.  ¡°And to see you, miss¡­?¡±

    ¡°Eleanor McAvey,¡± she said, holding out a hand, palm down.  Antomine bent over it briefly and then straightened.

    ¡°My name is Antomine.  I take it you¡¯re one of the passengers?¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Jonathan said, resting his hands on his desk and lacing his fingers together.  ¡°Miss McAvey will be traveling with us.¡±  He put a slight edge to his voice, letting Antomine know without words that he was not in the mood for pleasantries.

    ¡°Then it is good that I have made her acquaintance now,¡± Antomine said cheerfully.  ¡°We will be spending a great deal of time together, after all.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s true, but I wasn¡¯t expecting to meet anyone else before we got on board,¡± Eleanor said, what looked to be a genuine smile on her face.  ¡°What brings you here, mister Antomine?¡±

    ¡°Why, to discuss the expedition, of course,¡± Antomine replied, turning to Jonathan and affecting an expression of hurt.  ¡°It has come to my attention that some of the materials being stockpiled for us at Danby¡¯s Point are not strictly legal.¡±

    ¡°I hope that you ensured that our supplies were not disturbed.¡±  Jonathan¡¯s lips curled back from his teeth ever so slightly, regarding the young man before him with disfavor.

    ¡°And I was hoping that you would be able to tell me it was a mistake.¡±  Antomine shook his head slowly.  ¡°The contraband has been impounded of course, but the new zint-guns I ordered for the Endeavor should be proof against whatever you¡¯re expecting.¡±

    ¡°They will not be,¡± Jonathan said flatly.  ¡°And your guns are a waste of money.  My money, mister Antomine, not yours or even the Crown¡¯s.  You will send a message that the supplies should be held in readiness for our arrival.  All the supplies.¡±

    ¡°Certainly not!¡± Antomine was shocked.  ¡°We have no need for such terrible, ill-favored and forbidden things.  Proper, illuminated weaponry is all that is needed.  Not this sort of thing.¡±  His hand started for the cloth-covered apparatus on the desk, but Jonathan¡¯s hand shot out to seize Antomine¡¯s wrist.  The young man tried to jerk his arm away but staggered when the grip refused to yield.

    ¡°Mister Antomine.¡±  Jonathan¡¯s voice cracked like a whip.  ¡°This is my expedition.  You were imposed on me.  I am a good and loyal citizen of the Crown, but not a slave.  What you believe or wish does not dictate how this expedition will run.¡±

    ¡°You would spurn the Illuminated King?¡±  Antomine¡¯s eyes flashed and once again Jonathan felt the knife to his throat, but this time he was not cowed.  He simply remembered his goal and that singular light unlike anything else in the world.  With that, his determination burned bright and he glared at Antomine.

    ¡°Chartering a ship from here is the easiest way, but if you ¨C not the Illuminated King, but you specifically ¨C insist on sabotaging the expedition, then I will take other steps.  Perhaps the heretics at Godforge, or the Invidus Croft?¡±

    ¡°And you call yourself a good and loyal citizen!  You can hardly do those things when the Inquisition has you in a holding cell.¡±

    ¡°Who is going to tell them?  You?¡± Jonathan rose from his chair, suddenly looming over Antomine, light and shadow in the corners of the room squirming as Jonathan¡¯s cold eyes looked into Antomine¡¯s pale ones.

    ¡°Gentlemen!¡±  Eleanor interrupted them, breaking the frozen atmosphere.  ¡°There is no need for all this pother.  Mister Antomine was indeed operating with the best interests of the expedition in mind ¡ª however.¡±  She started to reach out toward where Jonathan was holding Antomine¡¯s hand, but stopped.  The two men looked at each other, and by mutual agreement they relaxed a fraction of a degree.  Jonathan released Antomine as the fire faded from the younger man¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°Mister Heights has been on six successful expeditions and is aware of the, shall we say, pragmatic realities of operation so far from Beacon.¡±  Eleanor continued, turning a winning smile in Antomine¡¯s direction as he rubbed his wrist.  ¡°I am certain that he will listen to and appreciate any contributions you have, Mister Antomine, but only he has the knowledge to keep us all safe out there.¡±

    ¡°Me and Captain Montgomery,¡± Jonathan said gruffly, keeping a close eye on Antomine.  The young man could make trouble for him, but if the Illuminated King himself were to be drawn into their disagreement, Antomine would likely lose.  Antomine seemed to realize it too, after the brief flush of emotions had passed, and he grudgingly inclined his head.

    ¡°Perhaps I was too overzealous, but I only had the safety and security of your people in mind.¡±  His pale eyes burned, and the zint lights in the study seemed to glow brighter.  ¡°I can see how there may be some call for unconventional solutions out in the dark wild.  But be assured, Mister Height ¡ª there are limits.¡±  Once again Antomine reached for the cloth, and this time he pulled it aside to reveal the mechanism of Jonathan¡¯s labor. In the bright light of zint all the objectionable twistings and turnings and impossible inversions were gone, rendered dull and mundane to the eye.

    ¡°Believe me, I will be keeping a very close eye on things,¡± he said.  ¡°For now, I believe I have messages to send.  Mister Heights.  Miss McAvey.¡± He gave them each a nod before turning and leaving the room.  The lights returned to normal, and Jonathan tossed the cloth back over the apparatus, which had regained its eye-twisting properties.

    ¡°He is going to be trouble,¡± Jonathan said at length.  Eleanor blew out a sigh and flopped into her chair.

    ¡°Tell me about it.  Do you intend to be rid of him?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Jonathan said, his hand moving to touch the cloth and the thing beneath.  ¡°As much as I hate to admit it, he might be useful.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re the boss,¡± Eleanor said.  ¡°I¡¯d better go see what the Reflected Council has on him.  He¡¯s weird enough that there ought to be rumors, at the very least.¡±  She didn¡¯t mention what he had done with the zint lights, and neither did Jonathan.

    ¡°I¡¯d appreciate that,¡± Jonathan said, though he knew he wouldn¡¯t quite get the full story.

    After Eleanor left he penned a few missives to certain parties involved with the refit, letting them know about the widow Hardiman.  That particular problem was easily enough solved, but it hinted at the greater issue: he was not really welcome in Beacon.  All his social credit had been  mortgaged or burned, and his professional reputation served only to set rivals against him.  Ways and means had been closed to him.

    He never intended to return, and he had no compunctions lighting his way with burning bridges.  Yet dealing with such petty spite meant it would be harder to find the real dangers, such as the sabotage that Eleanor had nullified.  Then there was Antomine, and that was a sort of trouble that would only get worse the longer it stewed.

    They would have to leave as soon as possible.

 Chapter Four

    Jonathan breathed in the cold air with relief as he exited his estate for the last time.  All the preparations were finished; his labors had finally come to fruition.  Wind gusted along the streets of Beacon as he brought his case to the waiting carriage, forcing him to clamp his hat to his head.  Passers-by leaned drunkenly to keep their balance, while the burly men loading heavy boxes into the cart attached to the carriage staggered like newborns.  Discarded newspapers and scraps of wrapping were whipped into the air, out of the reach of the streetlights, never to be seen again.  Agnes flinched as the front page of the Beacon Times slapped into the post at the base of the stairwell, cracking and rippling in the gale.

    ¡°You be safe now, sir.¡±  She told Jonathan, half-shouting and clutching her skirts.  The wind eased for a moment, and Agnes darted out to take one of his hands with both of hers.  ¡°You come back soon, you hear?¡±

    ¡°I intend to,¡± Jonathan lied, reassuring his housekeeper with a smile.  ¡°But just in case, I¡¯ve made sure you and Johann are properly taken care of.¡±  Most of his collection had been quietly liquidated to ensure there was sufficient cushion against future contingencies and there was very little left inside the walls of his estate.  He hadn¡¯t been certain at first there would be enough for his servants, but he had found it was not an issue.  Relative to the enormous expense of refitting an airship, ensuring his two servants had a sufficient nest egg and the legal protection that required was practically a rounding error.

    ¡°All packed, sir,¡± the head porter said, a broad man with no neck and a lumpen face.  He spoke exactly how he looked, but the efficacy and efficiency with which he tied Jonathan¡¯s cargo into the cart showed that he was keener than he seemed.

    ¡°Excellent,¡± Jonathan said, handing over the payment with a tip besides, and carefully disengaged himself from Agnes with a few more reassurances.  Finally he climbed into the carriage and Johann started off toward the Port Quarter.  Even at a distance Jonathan could pick out the shape of the Endeavor shining in the port¡¯s spotlights, long and sleek.

    Eleanor had frustrated several more sabotage attempts over the previous months, none leading to anyone of any particular import.  A few jealous types, at least one person with a grudge against Crowley, Stanford, and Moore rather than Jonathan himself, and no second appearance from whoever had left the little glass devices in the zint tanks.  Despite Eleanor¡¯s assurances, he still worried there was something they hadn¡¯t caught.

    He brooded on it as the carriage bumped and rattled its way up the switchbacks to the Port Quarter, Johann guiding it to a halt by the paternoster.  Antomine was already there, a pale figure flanked by two tall Lux Guards and chatting with a number of airmen.  They were also dressed in white, and each wore the flat, blank mask every Lux Guard did, which rendered them faceless and made them look disturbingly identical.

    ¡°Mister Heights!¡±  Antomine was back to his youthful demeanor, cheerful and exuberant. In that light, the pair of soldiers seemed like chaperones rather than enforcers, though Jonathan knew better.  ¡°I am eager to be off.  Where is your female companion?¡±

    ¡°I am sure she will be on time, Mister Antomine,¡± Jonathan said, suppressing irritation that Antomine hadn¡¯t even waited for him to fully exit the carriage.  He nodded to Johann, pushing a palm down to ask him to wait for a moment, and then beckoned to the group of blue-uniformed airmen waiting to take his cargo.  Some were big and brawny, others short and wiry, but they wrestled the packed crates off the trailer and onto handcarts with the ease of long practice.

    In fact, Jonathan had already spotted Eleanor and her companions, and pretended to be surprised when their carriage came to a halt by the dock, pulling a trailer cart and an even larger set of crates than Jonathan had brought along.  In the space of busy confusion where Eleanor got out and started the process of transferring her luggage to the paternoster, Jonathan had a few quiet words with Johann.  His chauffeur was more stoic than Agnes had been, but it was plain that he, too, worried about Jonathan¡¯s return.

    ¡°Don¡¯t go getting yourself killed,¡± Johann said gruffly.  ¡°I¡¯ve read all those adventure novels.  It¡¯s not safe out there.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Jonathan said, ignoring the fact that the novels had only passing resemblance to reality.  ¡°I¡¯ll be fine.¡±  He shook hands with the man as the last of the crates were hauled off the cart, then watched until Johann vanished into the bright lights of the city.

    He walked over to the paternoster, cane tapping on the stone streets than thumping on the lift¡¯s myceliplank, watching as Eleanor and her attendants supervised the transfer of her cargo.  Her attendants looked like maids rather than guards, one tall and fair, one short and dark, but otherwise completely forgettable and practically as faceless as Antomine¡¯s men.  They were impeccably groomed as a noblewoman¡¯s servants ought to be, but there was a telltale aura of danger about them.  Perhaps they didn¡¯t have Eleanor¡¯s talents, but there were many ways to be lethal.

    In times past, there would have been a gathered crowd.  Not a large one, but still people to wish him and the others well as they departed out into the unknown.  This time there was nobody.  Only the Crown and the Reflected Council cared at all, and their agents had no more friends than he did.  The failure of his last expedition, and the deaths of all those involved save himself, had burned all his social connections.

    ¡°I have never been on a long-haul airship,¡± Antomine remarked, joining Jonathan while airmen portaged the last of Eleanor¡¯s cargo.

    ¡°Neither have I,¡± Eleanor agreed as she joined them.  Neither she nor Antomine introduced their respective guards.  Seeing that all the people and cargo were on board, the operator threw a lever and the paternoster jerked into motion.

    ¡°It will wear thin quickly,¡± Jonathan assured them.  ¡°Though we should be making stops often enough.¡±

    ¡°Well sure, I can¡¯t imagine how lost we¡¯d get¡ª¡±  Eleanor stopped abruptly as the wind gusting past them turned suddenly warm, carrying with it the sweet scent of strange and exotic fruits, of tantalizing spices.  ¡°Greenwind,¡± she said, squinting into the breeze.  ¡°That seems auspicious.¡±

    Puffy white seedheads the size of carriages drifted into the light, bearing seeds the size of children.  The wind from the Verdant Expanse, that enormous volcano-wracked forest, announced spring and broke the chill of winter.  Half of the cloth in the city was woven from the fine fluff bestowed by that great spring inundation, and already he could see people hurrying onto roofs with hooks and nets to bring them down.

    ¡°Auspicious, perhaps, but it does mean we will face an inopportune headwind,¡± Jonathan remarked, as one of the puffballs impacted the tower and slid across it with the sound of silk on stone.  ¡°Captain Montgomery will be most put out.¡±

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be so dour,¡± Antomine said, shrugging off his heavy outer coat and taking a deep breath of the air, which carried the scents of far-off lands.  ¡°If nothing else this means we can actually enjoy some time above-deck.¡±  Jonathan frowned, and forewent pointing out that it would be far too windy most of the time for them to enjoy anything.

    The paternoster jostled to a stop and the airmen wheeled their cargo out, along the spar where the Endeavor was docked, and to the ramp leading to the bottom deck.  Jonathan directed them to the mid-deck, the seven of them trooping along the metal gangplank.  Montgomery was there waiting for them in his best captain¡¯s uniform, pipe in hand and watching the final preparations with a gimlet eye.

    ¡°Permission to come aboard, Captain,¡± Jonathan said formally, even though he was the majority owner of the Endeavor after the refit.

    ¡°Permission granted,¡± Montgomery said, and beckoned them inside.  ¡°Welcome to the Endeavor.¡±

    Jonathan had been on many other airships before, from big cargo freighters to small tramp skiffs that could barely keep the envelope intact.  The rebuilt Endeavor was by far the cleanest and neatest, the newness showing through in the brightly-painted walls and dirt-free grating underneath their feet.  Zint-light tubes ran through the corridor ceiling, the indirect light soft and shadowless.

    Montgomery gave them a brief tour as he led them up the decks; the lower deck was for cargo, the mid-deck for the crew, and the upper for passengers.  Each deck was circled by railings, and the mid-deck had artillery placed at judicious intervals.  The topmost deck held an even dozen rooms, six on a side, accommodations and mess at the rear while the front was given over to a large ¨C for a ship ¨C observation room, with broad panes of glass so they could look out over the landscape.  The ship¡¯s cat was sprawled there on its back, fast asleep, and didn¡¯t even crack an eye to look at them.

    The entire deck was covered in pale blue carpet, save for where the furniture was bolted to the floor.  That was a precaution that would be rendered somewhat moot by the sheer volume of items they were taking, but nobody wanted to be crushed by a poorly-secured bed when the weather hit.  If either Eleanor or Antomine were disappointed by the close confines of the rooms, they didn¡¯t show it.

    ¡°We¡¯ll be leaving within the hour, barring any unforeseen circumstances,¡± Montgomery told them in the observation room, while airmen unloaded crates into rooms.  Unpacking them was up to the passengers.  ¡°There¡¯s been a lot of minor annoyances from people so I¡¯d rather not delay now that you¡¯re all aboard.  Until then, feel free to settle in.¡±

    ¡°Aye, captain,¡± Antomine said, which seemed impolitic as Antomine wasn¡¯t an airman, and Montgomery looked around to see if any of the others had something to say before he left to supervise the final preparations.

    ¡°Are you going to introduce me to your handlers?¡± Jonathan asked bluntly, once Montgomery was away.  He doubted Antomine was oblivious to Eleanor¡¯s true masters, and if he was it was better to have it out here and now, rather than during an inevitable crisis.

    ¡°John and James,¡± Antomine said, though there was no visible difference between the two guards.

    ¡°Marie and Sarah,¡± Eleanor said, indicating the tall, pale one and the small, dark one in series.  Antomine and Eleanor looked at each other with matching smiles and Jonathan suddenly felt like he was sharing a vessel with children.  He was rather forcibly reminded of his own first expedition, headed to the far south with his father.

    ¡°Pleased to meet you,¡± he said, not entirely meaning it, and returned his gaze to the principal two.  ¡°You should try to unpack and secure as much as you can before we leave.  It may seem steady now, but that¡¯s because we¡¯re tied to the towers.  Once we begin moving you¡¯re likely to have difficulty keeping your feet.¡±

    Jonathan left them to deal with their luggage and retrieved only a single item from a crate in his cabin, then followed the stairs down.  He dodged hurrying airmen, all of them readying the ship for launch, and made his way forward to the bridge.  By ancient custom, he needed as much permission to be there as to board the ship in the first place, but when Montgomery saw what he was holding, beckoned him in.

    ¡°Is that what I think it is?¡±  Montgomery peered at the complex knot of gears and dials.  ¡°An actual triskolabe?¡±

    ¡°We would be risking serious danger once we pass Danby¡¯s, otherwise,¡± Jonathan confirmed, handing it out to him.  Of course, the triskolabe did require certain materials and workmanship not favored by the Illuminated King.  Beyond the compass, pointing north and south, and the inverted zint loop, pointing to Beacon, a triskolabe used two techniques not native to human reasoning.  Zumar¡¯s Bones, which longed to be in the great graveyard far to the south and west, and the Lens of Fools, a mechanical eye that let a navigator glimpse more than the light of zint would reveal and served as the calibration point for the mechanism.

    ¡°I advise you to use it only sparingly, however,¡± he warned.  ¡°On my last trip the navigator needed laudanum to sleep for weeks after we were blown off course from a storm and he had to guide us back.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind,¡± Montgomery said soberly, hefting the triskolabe and putting it down carefully by the navigation orrery.  Even after all his experience, Jonathan had trouble deciphering the complex clockwork display and couldn¡¯t begin to guess how it was connected to the vanes and flaps outside the bridge.  The navigator spared barely a glance for the triskolabe, busy with a checklist as he adjusted the levers at his console.

    ¡°I¡¯ll let you get on with it,¡± Jonathan said, glancing around at the quiet hurry of the airmen.  ¡°Knowing how to make such a thing is far different from knowing how to use it.¡±

    ¡°I appreciate that, Mister Heights.¡±  Montgomery¡¯s leathery face broke into a smile.  ¡°You¡¯d be surprised how many passengers think they can tell me how to do my job.¡±

    It was less than an hour later, by the longcase chronometer in the observation room, that the Endeavor cast off her lines and her engines flared to life.  The searing blue of zint engines pushed to their limits glared off the soot-stained towers of the yards as they powered out and up, heading east and above the city.  Eleanor was fairly plastered against the front window, and Antomine was nearly as eager.  The guards were more reserved, with the so-called maids watching cautiously and Antomine¡¯s escorts in their own cabins, evincing no interest whatsoever.

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    Jonathan regarded the sight with an odd sort of nostalgia, reminded of other expeditions in happier times.  Once he had been just as eager and amazed at the sight of the white city below them, the shrouded countryside stretching out in every direction.  Illuminated rail drew straight lines out from the city walls, while farms and ranches formed a fainter latticework.  Even so close to Beacon zint wasn¡¯t completely ubiquitous.  Farms too poor to afford the lanterns and lampposts were illuminated by the green light of sheltershrooms, forming sloppy scattered puddles rather than the crisp lines of zint infrastructure.

    The lights of other airships moved here and there, spotlights casting circles of illumination down onto farms and roads.  Even so deep into human territory, occasionally things came from the darkness, and there was the ever-present threat of the Cult of Flame to the south or the Invidus Croft to the north.  The navy of the Illuminated King was always busy patrolling settled territories, though more to spot a potential incursion than to defend towns or farms against the depredations of monstrous life.

    ¡°What a gorgeous view,¡± Eleanor said admiringly, just short of pressing her face against the glass.  ¡°All that scattered light in the darkness.  It¡¯s like ¡ª it makes me feel something, but I¡¯m not sure what.¡±

    ¡°Most people think that,¡± Jonathan said.  There was something about it that spoke to the human soul, perhaps fragmentary racial memories from a forgotten past.  The view was not the sort of secret that drove men mad, but one that planted melancholy in their hearts after too long staring into the light-studded darkness.

    ¡°Humans are creatures of the light,¡± Antomine remarked, hands clasped behind his back.  ¡°We are ever drawn to it, and we would be lost without it.  Unlike many things in this world, which eschew the light and prefer the darkness.¡±  He stood stable in the gentle sway of the airship, white-pupiled eyes reflected in the glass.  The words were not wrong, but there some something about their delivery that made Jonathan uneasy, lacking as it did either the rote recitation of scripture or the fervor of the zealot.  Antomine was a considered believer, and all the more dangerous for it.

    ¡°So where are we headed from here?¡± Eleanor asked.  Jonathan raised an eyebrow, and she rolled her eyes.  ¡°Yes, east, I know, but the maps don¡¯t really tell much of a story.¡±

    ¡°Well.¡±  Jonathan regarded her and Antomine, ignoring the attention of the Reflected Council guards.  ¡°From here to Danby¡¯s Point is up to the discretion of Captain Montgomery.  I¡¯m familiar with that stretch of human territory, but Montgomery will have contacts and favored ports of call along the way.  When last I discussed it with him, he was planning to stop at Autochthon Reach and Whither before reaching Danby¡¯s.¡±  There was no map hanging in the observation room, but all of them should be sufficiently conversant with the geography of the kingdom to follow that much.

    ¡°I guess that¡¯s not so bad,¡± Eleanor said, brow furrowed as she considered it.  ¡°Not very exciting, though.¡±

    ¡°And after?¡±  Antomine said, turning to Jonathan.  ¡°It is far more complex to navigate without the light of civilization to guide us.¡±

    ¡°After depends on the disposition of things at Danby¡¯s Point.  The weather, the supplies, reports of beasts or caravans.  Or other, more esoteric dangers.¡±  Jonathan had long ago learned not to discount any news from the hardy folks who dared the edges of settled lands, even if it was mere muttering and gut feeling.

    ¡°I suppose it makes sense,¡± Antomine said, not entirely happy with the answer.  ¡°I hope you¡¯ll provide a better accounting at the time, however.  There seems little point in actual secrecy.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve spent my entire life exploring, and it¡¯d be difficult to pack that knowledge into a few weeks of travel time,¡± Jonathan said.  ¡°Not to mention there are some aspects to the maps that can neither be translated nor explained without insight that is difficult to come by.¡±

    Jonathan did not mention that were he to reveal the full extent of the journey and all that was required to finish it, there would be considerable opposition.  Antomine, or perhaps one of Eleanor¡¯s maids, would want to assume command for the sake of their respective factions.  That wouldn¡¯t go well for anyone, and it would be best avoided.

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not like we¡¯ll have much else to do, will we?¡± Eleanor said, reluctantly tearing her gaze from the view of the front window.  ¡°I¡¯ve read some stuff, but I figure a few lessons on what it¡¯s like from someone who¡¯s been there will be worthwhile.¡±

    ¡°Yes, indeed,¡± Jonathan said, fingers drumming against the handle of his cane as he thought.  ¡°That, and lessons about Endeavor herself.  We may be passengers, but I think we all would prefer to be useful in an emergency, rather than dead weight.¡±  Jonathan himself was a fair hand at maintenance, and there was always a use for brute force in any situation.

    Jonathan left the others to watch the landscape and retired to his cabin to finish unpacking.  Most of his crates could actually stay sealed until later, such as the spices he¡¯d brought along.  It had only taken one long and laborious stretch of bland and boiled meals for him to learn the lesson of carrying along flavor.  All he really needed at the moment were books, clothing, and toiletries ¡ª and a few weapons, as there was never any wisdom in being unarmed, whether in places civilized or not.

    The first few days were reserved for settling in, for people to acquire ¨C or reacquire ¨C their air legs and become accustomed to cramped quarters and the limited, if hearty, menu.  In truth the Endeavor was better equipped than some of his previous voyages, and he was pleased there were no complaints from any of the other passengers, who surely were used to more luxurious accommodations.

    Jonathan was working diligently at extracting a lifetime of experiences, as well as dozens of reference books, into a useful pr¨¦cis for his fellow passengers when the general alarm rang over the speaking-tubes set into corridors.  The sound of the frantic bell jolted through him, and he toppled his chair as he jumped to his feet.  Pausing only to take a pistol and ensure the glass zint cartridge was in place and full, he swept out into the corridor with cane in hand.

    ¡°What is it, Captain?¡±  He spoke into the tube set at the end of the deck.  Antomine emerged a moment later, his guards exiting their room after him and drawing close enough to hear Montgomery¡¯s reply.

    ¡°Spotted a ship running dark, on its way to intercept us,¡± Montgomery¡¯s voice came back through the speaking tube, rendered flat and metallic by attenuation.  ¡°Even with those engines you got us, they¡¯ve just got more than we do.  They¡¯re going to catch up in a few minutes and I doubt they¡¯re coming by to have a friendly chat.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what the ship¡¯s armament is for, is it not?¡± Antomine said, almost impatiently.  ¡°I doubt any would-be pirate can stand up to a fusillade from Carmine Arms¡¯ finest.¡±

    ¡°Aye, Mister Antomine,¡± Montgomery said, only a trace of impatience in his tone.  ¡°And we¡¯re armored well enough, but we¡¯re not a battleship.  Depending on what this other ship is, things might get a mite hairy.¡±

    ¡°Do your guards have training with zint cannons?¡± Jonathan asked Antomine as Eleanor finally stepped out of her cabin, hair slightly disarrayed.  She padded over to join them on silent feet, but asked no questions.  ¡°I expect Captain Montgomery¡¯s gunners might welcome a hand or two.¡±  Antomine hesitated a moment, then nodded.

    ¡°I will send my men to assist your people,¡± Antomine said into the tube.

    ¡°Appreciate it,¡± Montgomery grunted.  ¡°My men are just honest sailors, not navy-trained.¡±

    Antomine gave Jonathan a stiff nod and stepped around Eleanor to inform his people of their task.  For that moment, at least, Jonathan was glad to have someone with proper military training.  Eleanor watched him go and then turned to Jonathan, tilting her head in question.

    ¡°You¡¯ll want to get yourself and your maids ready,¡± Jonathan said.  ¡°Piracy isn¡¯t common enough for me to believe this is a random attack.  I suspect it is targeted, and a simple broadside won¡¯t be enough to dissuade them.¡±

    Eleanor replied with, rather than words, a cruel and jagged smile that showed the part of her which had stared into the shadows below the bright lights of Beacon.  It was only there for a moment, then it was gone and so was she.  Jonathan pursed his lips at the empty corridor and then turned, climbing the stairs and opening the abovedeck hatch.

    Wind whipped past him as he circled around the spine of the ship, where the envelope above joined the hull below.  He squinted as he peered out into the darkness behind the Endeavor, finding the faint blue glow of shrouded engines somewhat less than a mile away.  The rest of the ship ran dark, save for, perhaps, faint illumination on the bridge for the captain and navigator, but he could still tell it was gaining.  Another ten minutes before it was in range of the Endeavor¡¯s cannons, he judged, but he could guess there would be trouble sooner than that and so chose to stay on the deck as the two ships closed.

    His eyes were very, very good, but even he only barely caught the flicker of movement a few minutes later, in the light reflected from the Endeavor.  Jonathan aimed his pistol and fired.  The bolt of light missed, but still revealed the batlike, goggled form of someone in a wingsuit, a tiny zint engine strapped to his back.  A moment later the boarder landed on the deck, crouching and pulling out a different zint-gun, something that looked far more ominous than the pistol Jonathan carried.  At that moment the rear gunner opened up too, the rapid fire of the chase gun hurling zint out into the void.  He wasn¡¯t certain if the gunner managed to hit anyone but it illuminated several more shapes.

    Jonathan ducked back down below the deck, zint bolts whining off the hatch cover above him and nearly covering the sound of other boots landing on the deck.  Judging the hatch the best place to stymie the invasion, he holstered the pistol and drew his sword from his cane.  At such a range, a length of steel was faster than trying to aim and fire a pistol ¡ª one with only nine charges remaining.

    There was a noise behind him and Jonathan glanced back to see Marie, the tall and fair maid, still in her dress but armed with a brace of long black stilettos.  The crash and furor of combat echoed from the stairwell with a shocking suddenness, and he motioned downward with a jerk of his head.  In return she inclined her head, and vanished down the stairwell on silent feet.

    A moment later the hatch opened, the long and sinister gun barrel poking through, and Jonathan snapped to the side, reaching out to grab the man¡¯s hand where it held the gun and pull him through.  The man yelped, the sound turning into a scream as Jonathan buried three feet of steel in the boarder¡¯s chest.  Arterial blood spurted, dark in the zint light as the corpse continued down the stairs while Jonathan slung the zint gun over his shoulder by the strap.  Not that he expected to be able to hit anything with an unfamiliar weapon, but better to have it than leave it.

    He pulled the hatch shut again, waiting for the next assailant, but after a few seconds it opened a crack and a glistening cylinder shot through.  Jonathan caught it by reflex, then a thrill of fear shot through him as he recognized what he held.  He jumped forward to shove the hatch open, plying his prodigious strength against that which was trying to hold it closed, and was met with a shout of surprise as his heave flung one of the boarders backward. He tossed the zint grenade back onto the deck and hauled the hatch shut, holding it closed for two long seconds before the detonation came.  The hatch bucked against his grip, the vibration numbing his fingers.

    Jonathan suppressed a shudder.  Even with his experience, there was something profoundly disconcerting about holding imminent death in his own hand.  He had to force the hatch open again, metal squealing as the deformed frame protested its fit, and the light spilling from the interior showed three still bodies sprawled on the scorched and dented deck.  Despite that, he emerged only cautiously, not trusting the grenade had accounted for all of them.

    Sure enough, there was a fourth man at a remove, trying to clamber to his feet.  Jonathan crossed the distance in a blink, driving the blade of his sword-cane into the man¡¯s neck, the fountain of blood that resulted passing him by.  He would like to keep someone alive to question, but he didn¡¯t dare leave an enemy at his back.  Not when there was the rest of the ship to consider.

    Three quick cuts ensured the fallen by the hatch would remain that way, and he descended again, taking care to avoid leaving boot prints on the bloody stairs.  He made a quick survey of their deck, ensuring that there were no intruders lying in wait, then followed the noises down one level.  Even if the boarders couldn¡¯t take the ship, they could prevent anyone from manning the guns, and that would be a disaster.

    What he found was a hall with scorched and melted spots from zint discharge, and one of Antomine¡¯s guards systematically demolishing a pair of men in wingsuits.  The man ¨C Jonathan couldn¡¯t tell which one it was, as they looked absolutely identical in the armor and he¡¯d never seen either one without ¨C had a long baton rather than a sword or a gun, and used it to batter aside the cutlasses each of the boarders had.  Jonathan winced at the crack of the baton as the guard precisely targeted wrists, elbows, collarbones, ribs.  There were several airmen slumped against the floor and walls, and Jonathan hoped that their injuries were not too bad, but they were being tended to by their fellows so he continued on.

    He almost tripped over another border crumpled in the corner of the stairwell as he continued on, dead from a single puncture wound exactly above the heart.  The corridor leading to the bridge held Antomine¡¯s other guard, holding the door to the bridge despite obvious damage to his armor.  More evidence of fighting, but no attackers remained on their feet.  The sound of a detonation came from below, and Jonathan hurried down the stairwell to the last deck.

    Smoke billowed from a pile of crates where the remnants of weaponized zint burned through wood and metal alike, and was sucked away by a heady crosswind from open doors where intruders had made their entrance.  Even as he watched, someone in a heavier and more ornate wingsuit than the others swiped a hooked boarding-pike at thin air, then bowed backward as an unseen knife punched through his back.  Eleanor flickered as she shook blood from her sleeve, fading back into the shadows as Sarah, the small and dark maid, protected a wounded Marie from zint-gun shots with a shield made of spare piping.

    The only remaining assailants were a pair fighting back to back by one of the rear cargo doors, and even as he watched one of them pitched another grenade in the direction of the maids.  Jonathan darted forward, deflecting it out the nearest door with his sword-cane, then hopped up on the stacked crates to get at the attackers.  Before he reached them, the nearest of the two grew a second smile on his neck, collapsing in a choking heap as Eleanor¡¯s knife took the second man through the spine.  She gave him a vicious grin.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take care of the fire and your maids, see about the rest of this deck.  Top and middle are taken care of,¡± Jonathan told her, and she nodded briefly before melting out of sight again.  It took him a moment of looking to find the water storage, the metal reservoir built into the upper part of the decking, but there were at least pails properly stored nearby and an emergency tap.  That was enough to put out the fire before it spread, and he jumped down to offer a hand with Marie.

    From the spots of blood staining her right side, she¡¯d taken some shrapnel from the zint grenade, and he winced as he helped her to her feet.  Even if he didn¡¯t quite trust Eleanor¡¯s companions, he didn¡¯t wish any particular ill on them, especially not the sort that required extensive surgery.  She opened her mouth to murmur a thanks, but was cut off by the thrum of a zint cannon firing.  Then a second one, as the ship listed, coming around to engage their attacker.

    Eleanor reappeared as they approached the stair, and Jonathan made no complaint as she took his place at Marie¡¯s side.  Two uninjured airmen, one burly and one wiry, burst from the stairwell and nearly ran into them.  The burly one reflexively went to help the women but Eleanor gave him a sharp look and pointed back at the mess in the cargo hold.

    ¡°We¡¯re fine, secure that,¡± she ordered, and the pair saluted.

    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am,¡± the wiry one said, and they slipped past.  The steady thrum of zint cannons continued as Eleanor and Sarah took Marie to the upper deck, and Jonathan walked the mid-decks, bared cane-sword angled at his side just in case.  Of the twenty or so crew, it seemed that almost half had been injured one way or another and, judging by the bloodstains, the boarders had been dragged into the canteen.  He turned the other direction, stopping at the door to the bridge as Montgomery shouted orders and the bo¡¯sun relayed them into various speaking-tubes.

    ¡°¡ªAnd be damned quick about it, because there¡¯s a storm on the way,¡± Montgomery finished, and Jonathan narrowed his eyes, peering out at the darkness beyond the bridge.  Far away, lightning flashed and the sound of distant thunder joined the sound of guns.

 Chapter Five

    The Endeavor shuddered as shots traded back and forth.  Jonathan winced as one glowing missile arced past the bridge windows, fading as it dropped toward the countryside below, but Montgomery ignored the near-miss.  Instead, he pored over the enormous map pinned against the wall with the navigator, trying to determine a landing point.  Even if they were in an artillery duel with a more heavily armed ship, the real danger was the storm blowing toward them.

    Already the engines were laboring to counter the headwinds, the sudden gusts sending the ship canting this way and that.  The occasional flash of lightning showed a looming mass of dark cloud boiling toward them as thunder cracked.  The dials at the navigator¡¯s console spun wildly back and forth, the triskolabe rattling as it slid against the chain holding it in place.

    ¡°Of all the nasty luck,¡± Montgomery said, running bloodstained fingers through unruly hair.  While he hadn¡¯t been hurt himself, some of his men had, and nobody had time to clean themselves off during a crisis.  ¡°We can¡¯t afford to get blown off to god-knows-where.¡±

    ¡°I doubt it was luck,¡± Jonathan said, wiping off his sword-cane with his handkerchief despite it being perfectly clean.  ¡°There are at least three methods I am aware of to predict the weather ¡ª not that I know how to do them,¡± he added, at Montgomery¡¯s look.  ¡°Our destination was not exactly secret, and anyone familiar with airships could figure out the route to Danby¡¯s Point.¡±

    ¡°Even so, how¡¯d they know how to find us?¡±  Montgomery looked out the window at the other ship, which had abandoned any pretense at stealth.  Zint light glowed from within, silhouetting a double row of cannons despite the ship being much smaller than the Endeavor.

    ¡°They received a fast courier two days ago, the storm was meant to cover the Endeavor¡¯s disappearance.¡± Antomine said, walking into the bridge.  His white uniform was still spotless, devoid of blood or stain.  Jonathan hadn¡¯t seen him since combat began, but he had clearly had no trouble.  ¡°None of the ones I questioned knew much, but they¡¯re ex-Navy, privateers that usually stay down south.  Someone paid them to go after us, but to find out exactly who you¡¯d need to question the captain.¡±

    ¡°Someone really doesn¡¯t want us to succeed,¡± Montgomery said gruffly, his face hardening as he looked out at the other vessel.

    ¡°It seems not,¡± Antomine agreed.  ¡°May I borrow your cabin, Captain? I have some men to shrive.¡±  At Montgomery¡¯s nod of assent, Antomine turned and left again, sweeping out of the bridge.

    ¡°Well, doubt they¡¯ll be able to catch up to us after this storm.  ¡®Less they follow us down,¡± Montgomery said, then turned and bellowed at the navigator.  ¡°Where the hell are we, Jenkins?¡±

    ¡°Only place we could tie down is Danner¡¯s Grasp,¡± Jenkins reported, and rattled off a bearing and heading.  Montgomery worked the controls and spun the wheel, the ratchet clicking as it gimbaled the engines.  The ship shuddered as machinery compressed the envelope, driving the lifting gas into pressurized cannisters and sending stomachs lurching as they began to lose altitude.

    Another terribly close bolt of lightning suddenly illuminated the ground for miles around, showing a rugged landscape overgrown with tallshrooms, gorge-bushes, and tanglevines, but off to the south there were low walls and the straight lines of farmland.  Two mammoth, six-fingered stone hands were visible for an instant, rising from the ground to grasp at the sky, the remains of some antediluvian monument buried for all time under stone and soil.  Human hands had strapped mooring rods to the reaching fingers and put lights upon the empty palms, and the remainder of the town hunkered between the exposed statuary.

    It was all only visible for a moment before the light faded, but that was enough to guide the ship.  The ship tilted, then righted itself as they shot off to the south.  Zint bolts from the enemy ship went wide, thrown by the sudden change, and Endeavor¡¯s engines flared as Montgomery pushed them to their maximum.  The enemy ship moved to pursue, but the disciplined fire from Antomine¡¯s guards seemed to have done some damage and it couldn¡¯t maneuver nearly as quickly.  With the storm¡¯s heavy winds, they were being blown off-course ¡ª fast enough that it wasn¡¯t likely they¡¯d make it to Danner¡¯s Grasp.

    Jonathan saw he wasn¡¯t necessary and excused himself from the bridge, while Montgomery ordered his men to cease fire.  He walked past the crew cabins, and hesitated briefly where Antomine and the ship¡¯s doctor both attended one of the men who had been shot, but a low voice filled the room and Jonathan hurried on.  Despite his personal opinion of Antomine, a man¡¯s last confession was sacred and Jonathan wasn¡¯t going to interfere with idle questions.

    He had to brace himself going up the stairs as the ship lurched, either from a sudden downdraft or the impact of incoming fire, and the corpse of the first boarder he¡¯d killed toppled down the stairwell.  Jonathan gritted his teeth at the sight and the smell and grabbed the body in passing, hauling it back to the landing.  There would be a lot to clean up once they were out of danger.

    ¡°Who were they?¡±  Eleanor¡¯s voice came as he was picking up the discarded sheath of his cane.  Jonathan straightened and turned around, finding that her dress was scorched and she was spattered with blood, but her eyes were gleaming.  ¡°And how come you still look freshly pressed,¡± she added, waving her hand at his unruffled suit.

    ¡°I¡¯m not certain, but it has the same stink as those devices that you found in the zint tanks,¡± Jonathan said, ignoring the second question as it was hardly relevant.  ¡°I would say either the Illuminated King or the Reflected Council, but they both have stakes.¡±

    ¡°Neither the Crown nor the Council are monolithic,¡± Eleanor said, bracing herself against the wall as ship shuddered and tilted, sending a dropped rifle sliding along the hall until Eleanor stopped it with a foot.  ¡°But it is odd.  A lot of effort.  Almost like they know something we don¡¯t,¡± she concluded, eyeing Jonathan suspiciously.

    ¡°Something I don¡¯t, either,¡± he said grimly.  ¡°I know there¡¯s sunlight.  I know how to get to it.  But even my father found little about what sunlight was ¡ª or what a sun was, for that matter.  This interference may be someone who does know, and fears what we might do with it.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I like that idea.¡±  Eleanor grinned suddenly, looking like something primal with the blood drying on her dress.  ¡°Anything someone is willing to kill for is worth finding.¡±

    Jonathan pressed his lips together to prevent himself from arguing.  She was wrong, but he knew no words of his could dissuade her.  While he had long been an expatriate of the Exploration Society, he¡¯d seen enough of their annals to know sometimes it wasn¡¯t worth the cost to uncover what had been buried.  Either in money, or in lives.

    ¡°We¡¯re tethering at Danner¡¯s Grasp,¡± he said instead.  ¡°I suspect the other ship will not be an issue, given the storm, but if they tether there too we will have to deal with them.¡±

    ¡°That won¡¯t be a problem,¡± Eleanor said grimly.  Jonathan could well believe it.  He still had resources of his own, but it was highly unlikely any normal crew could keep Eleanor from stalking them like a specter of death.  Though it was unlikely that any successful privateer was entirely normal.

    A shrill two-tone warning sounded through the speaking-tube, followed by Captain Montgomery¡¯s voice warning about a sudden tether.  Considering how far away the stone hands had been, either they¡¯d caught quite a tailwind or Montgomery was anticipating things.  But Jonathan trusted the Captain knew what he was about, and he could feel the clanking of the sturdy chain being run out through the decking.

    The deck above them suddenly rang like a gong, followed by the slow sputtering of fading zint from a direct hit by a cannon.  Eleanor flinched, looking up with the first trace of nervousness he¡¯d seen so far, and she reached out to grip the rail that lined the corridor.

    ¡°Is this thing going to hold together?¡± She muttered.

    ¡°This is nothing.¡± Jonathan told her, not particularly worried.  ¡°Even if we get holed, it would be merely inconvenient.¡±  If there had been time for the other ship get precise targets, or even just hammer the Endeavor¡¯s envelope, they would have needed to take steps.  The first ship battle he¡¯d been in had resulted in his tramp freighter being pounded to a wreck that was more holes than hull, but it had still flown.  They had enough supplies on board and at Danby¡¯s to repair any damage.

    The only real issue would be if one of those cannon hit a person.  He¡¯d only met one or two who could survive that, and he had no desire to meet them again.

    The Endeavor bobbed and shook, then slewed suddenly as the tethers caught on something.  Even braced, he was nearly flung off his feet, and it was only Eleanor¡¯s grip on the rail that kept her from being hurled down the corridor.  The thrum of the engines vibrated through the deck, and then faded as the ship steadied.

    ¡°We¡¯re tethered,¡± the bo¡¯sun¡¯s voice came through the speaking-tube.  ¡°All hands, secure the ship.¡±

    ¡°What about our unwelcome guest?¡± Jonathan asked, speaking through the tube down to the bridge.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t look like they¡¯ll get turned round in time,¡± Montgomery¡¯s voice came back.  ¡°Storm¡¯s blowing them south.  We¡¯ll be¡ª¡±  Whatever he was trying to say was drowned out by a deluge of rain hammering the upper deck, followed by another growl of thunder.  ¡°¡ªthe local medic.  Might as well resupply as we¡¯re here.¡±

    ¡°Understood,¡± Jonathan called back over the din, and looked to Eleanor.  ¡°Does Marie need a doctor?¡±

    ¡°She should see one,¡± Eleanor admitted grudgingly.  ¡°Not sure about the ship¡¯s surgeon, he strikes me as a little¡­¡± She trailed off with a shrug, and the sound of an incongruous tune came from Antomine¡¯s room; a clock announcing the dinner hour.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Jonathan said.  ¡°We¡¯ll be here for some time, I expect.  To clean everything up, if nothing else.¡±  The hallway stank of death, and that was not something they wanted to be smelling for the next weeks and months.

    He returned to his own room to ensure the cleanliness of his sword and to check the charge on his pistol.  When he emerged again, one of the crew was dragging away the corpse that had tumbled down the stairwell. Despite how few crew there were on the Endeavor, Jonathan had not tried to make their acquaintance.  The gulf between passenger and crew was one he hadn¡¯t bothered to try and cross.

    Montgomery was otherwise occupied, but Smythe, the bo¡¯sun ¨C whose name Jonathan finally dredged from his memory ¨C gave them permission to go ashore at their own peril.  The Endeavor was hardly stable, anchored to three fingers in the blowing gale and with a line tied to a small building on the monument¡¯s palm.  Jonathan wrapped himself in his waterproof cloak against the blowing rain and carried Marie down by brute force, with Eleanor and Sarah clinging to the handholds behind him as an airman cranked the pulley to lower them down.

    The gaffer staffing the little hut was almost invisible under his own hood, chin tucked in against the rain and the wax-burning lanterns offering little light to begin with.  He waved a claw of a hand toward a rickety wooden walkway lashed to the palm, spiraling down the wrist to the ground.  The people of Danner¡¯s Grasp had not driven their artifice into the stone, and perhaps could not, so all the creaking wood was lashed in place by innumerable ropes and chains that groaned uneasily in the wind.

    ¡°Sawbones is down there,¡± the old man in the hut said, refusing to open the door more than a crack.  ¡°Go straight in toward the belltower, take the third right.  ¡®s got a red light in the window.  Y¡¯r fellows already went.¡±  The gaffer tucked his hand, which only had three fingers, back into the tattered and weathered coat he wore, and the rickety door closed once again.  Jonathan frowned at the weathered planks, put off by the man¡¯s behavior without quite knowing why.  He certainly couldn¡¯t fault the directions.

    ¡°Come on,¡± Eleanor said, half-shouting over the wind.  Her coat snapped and rippled in emphasis as he helped Marie limp after her, Sarah trailing behind as if she didn¡¯t trust him with her fellow maid and agent.  Which was sound reasoning, though they¡¯d given him no cause to object to them just yet.

    They descended the worn wooden posts, slick from the rain, and found that the town was even more deserted than the storm would give cause for.  Those that dwelled in towns so far from the main spur were hardy folk, and would simply bundle themselves against the downpour to carry on business as usual.  Yet there was not a single soul treading the pitted cobbles of the streets, neither the pale glow of candles and sheltershrooms nor the harsh flare of lightning revealing anyone on the streets.

    Despite the uneasiness Jonathan felt as they traveled the barely-lit, rain-soaked streets, the old man¡¯s directions were true enough.  The telltale red glow of a chirurgeon¡¯s heliograph turned the churned puddles into a bloody froth, but the inside was dry enough.  Three of the Endeavor¡¯s complement waited in the anteroom and their heads turned as the door opened, setting a small bell tinkling.  Jonathan recognized Jameson, the navigator, and nodded to him as Eleanor took charge of Marie once again.

    ¡°How is it looking?¡± Jonathan asked in a low voice, though with seven people crowded into the anteroom there was no such thing as privacy.

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°We¡¯ve lost two,¡± Jameson said somberly.  ¡°The third¡¯s in there now.  If he pulls through we may have to leave him here.  Won¡¯t be fit for duty for a while anyhow.  Those new style guns are nasty.  Everyone else just has bumps and bruises and a few cuts, so Doc Graham¡¯s taking care of them.¡±

    Jonathan nodded thoughtfully.  It was not the best start, to have already lost three crew so early on, but it was always harder to account for the actions of malice than of the uncaring world.  If he had to judge, he would say that the streets of Beacon were more treacherous than the swamps of Carascorn or the badlands of Kharr.  Those, at least, didn¡¯t hunt him down once he¡¯d left them.

    They could pick up more crew before they left, though not at Danner¡¯s Grasp.  It was far too small a town to have even half-trained airmen willing to sign on, regardless of pay.  But he couldn¡¯t afford such attrition in the future.  Even if Montgomery and the rest of his crew were broad-minded enough to work with a non-human airman, there were precious few among the savage tribes and decadent empires who would be interested in such a posting.

    He dipped his hand into his pocket and took out a small purse.  The sawbones¡¯ fee was surely coming out of the ship¡¯s coffers eventually, which were provided by him to begin with, but providing extra cash up front might result in better care.  As he had no desire to wait for the medical business to be completed, he handed the purse to Jameson and nodded to Eleanor.  A gentleman probably shouldn¡¯t leave ladies alone with rude sailors, but the ladies in question could more than take care of themselves.

    ¡°Make sure everyone gets what they need,¡± he said, mostly to Jameson but partly to the room at large.  ¡°I¡¯d rather not spend any more time here than we need, so I will attend to other supplies.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Jameson said, and Eleanor waved him away, so he stepped back out into the rain.  Only after he breathed the stone and rain scent of the outdoors did he realize how much the smell of ether inside the chirurgeon¡¯s room had bothered him.

    His cane tapped on the empty stone streets as he returned the way he had come, looking for one of the signs that had caught his eye.  A single toll from a bell tower hidden somewhere in the night chimed out the quarter-hour, which didn¡¯t match Jonathan¡¯s watch, but towns so far out tended to settle into their own time.  Everyone on the train route kept the same clocks, but he didn¡¯t know if Danner¡¯s Grasp thought it was the end of the day or the beginning.

    Regardless of the hours people kept, discreet signs proclaimed the few shops as being open, and Jonathan stopped in front of the bookstore.  It was an unusual thing in such an evidently small and poor town, full of citizens so incurious that they didn¡¯t even gawk at the strangers walking their streets.  He stepped inside, the entry bell flat rather than musical, and inhaled the scent of old leather and paper.

    There was nobody manning the front, which seemed odd, but after a moment an old man wearing a scarf around his face shuffled around from behind the stacks.  It was an odd style, especially since it was warm enough in the bookstore, but the elderly always had particular foibles.  In green light cast by sheltershroom lanterns, between the unruly mop of hair and the scarf, only the man¡¯s nose was visible and it pointed in Jonathan¡¯s direction.

    ¡°C¡¯n I help you?¡± The proprietor asked in a voice full of sawdust.

    ¡°I just came in with the ship,¡± Jonathan said, to no apparent reaction.  ¡°I was just wondering if you had any books written locally.  Or maybe any old ones.  I¡¯m something of a collector, you see.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± the man said, without any emotion or emphasis.  Jonathan could see at least three volumes on the topmost shelf behind the man that probably qualified, but his gut told him not to press, so he merely thanked the shopkeeper and left.  A growing restlessness propelled him to pace the streets despite the weather, where lightning still strobed and the rain poured down, glancing into windows as he passed.

    Stores that were open appeared deserted.  Those that were closed had curtains and shades drawn, but light leaked out from corners and edges.  There didn¡¯t seem to be any zint in use, which was odd even for an out-of-the-way place such as Danner¡¯s Grasp.  Jonathan wasn¡¯t sure what to think of it, but added it to the assemblage of minor things that disturbed him.  Finally he turned a corner and nearly lashed out at the figure he saw there, but it was only Antomine, broad-brimmed hat firmly around his ears and hunched into his white greatcoat.

    ¡°Mister Heights,¡± Antomine said, white-pupiled eyes almost glowing as he tilted his head up at Jonathan.  ¡°Where is everyone?¡± He asked, almost plaintively.  ¡°It¡¯s past noon here and even with the storm you¡¯d think someone would be selling food.¡±

    ¡°I was wondering that myself,¡± Jonathan admitted, glad for once to see the young man of the Crown.  ¡°In fact, I was indulging in some basic curiosity, walking the streets.¡±  He tilted his head toward a crumbling old building with a worn placard featuring a mug in front, illuminated by lintel-posts of glowing sheltershroom.  ¡°Perhaps we could find some local with a tongue in there.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps,¡± Antomine said, ducking his head down again as a gust of wind whirled raindrops into his face.  ¡°It¡¯d be out of the weather, anyway.¡±  He led the way, pushing open the door with the assured arrogance of someone used to carrying authority.  Jonathan followed, glancing around at the candle-lit interior.  It was sparsely populated and silent, with a grand total of two men and the bartender, but that was a veritable crowd compared to what he¡¯d seen before.

    Both patrons had deep cowled hoods, and the bartender had a low-brimmed hat from which spilled an enormous quantity of curly brown locks, merging with shaggy eyebrows, moustache, and beard as to present a face that was little more than a squashed nose protruding from a mass of hair.  The uneasy feeling in Jonathan¡¯s gut only grew stronger as the three of them looked at him and Antomine, then away in eerie synchronization.

    No matter how Jonathan appraised the situation, Antomine bellied up to the bar, looking exactly like a fresh-faced youth, and brightly asked for a drink.  Despite his obvious naivete, none of the trio relaxed their body language, and the bartender poured Antomine a tankard from the barrel with a desultory politeness.  Jonathan sat next to Antomine, examining the room and its occupants with a sharp eye to try and decide what bothered him so.

    ¡°Did you notice,¡± he murmured at length.  ¡°They all have their faces covered?¡±

    ¡°Now that you mention it, they do,¡± Antomine replied in a low voice, sounding not at all like the youth he appeared to be.  Even if he¡¯d said it quietly, a sudden tension seemed to come into the room, as if the indifferent clientele were all staring.  They weren¡¯t.

    ¡°We should get back to the ship,¡± Jonathan said, and Antomine twisted to look at him.  For a moment the young man considered protesting, but then dug a coin out of his pocket, leaving it on the bar with the mostly undrunk beer.  The two of them headed for the door, Jonathan keeping his head down to keep an eye on the three locals with his peripheral vision, but not even the bartender seemed interested in their retreat.

    Stepping outside, Jonathan almost staggered from the wind.  The driving rain was, if anything, even heavier than before, the sheltershrooms lamps and candlelit windows barely visible across the street.  Antomine¡¯s broad-brimmed hat stayed, improbably, on his head, but his long coat rippled and snapped, the collar plastered against his neck.  He turned to Jonathan, his eyes narrowed.

    ¡°Whatever¡¯s going on here¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªis not our business,¡± Jonathan said firmly.  ¡°We¡¯re an expedition, not an inquisitorial squad.  You can send a message when we get back to the trunk line.¡±  Antomine still looked mutinous, and Jonathan sighed.  ¡°We don¡¯t have the manpower or expertise to deal with an entire town,¡± he told Antomine.  ¡°Even if we did, it¡¯s not our job.¡±  That got a scowl, but eventually Antomine nodded.

    ¡°Head back to the ship, tell Montgomery to sound the emergency boarding, and get ready to untether.  Yes, even despite the storm.  It might be better than staying here.  I¡¯ll get everyone from the chirurgeon.¡±

    ¡°Very well,¡± Antomine said grudgingly, and stalked off into the rain.  Jonathan went in the other direction, hurrying through the empty and unfamiliar streets until he found the red glow once again.  When he pushed through the door the six people he¡¯d left were still there, only they were playing cards.  He drew eyes as rain swirled through the open door, but it was Eleanor who recognized his expression and shot to her feet.

    ¡°The doctor.  Was his face uncovered?¡± Jonathan asked.

    ¡°No¡­¡±  Jameson said slowly.  ¡°There was a mask¡ª¡±

    ¡°Then we¡¯re leaving,¡± Jonathan interrupted him, stepping around the cluster of people to the far door.  ¡°Emergency boarding.  Crew¡¯s still in there, right?¡±

    ¡°George is, aye,¡± Jameson said, collecting the cards and shoving them into the pocket of his uniform.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Eleanor asked as he tried the door and found it locked.

    ¡°Something is wrong with this town and we don¡¯t want to deal with it,¡± Jonathan said.  He hammered on the interior door and then put his ear to it to listen.  The only thing that came from the other side was a low murmured cadence of a type and tone that made his throat clench and his jaw ache.

    He wrapped his hands around the knob and hauled.  Wood splintered and metal squealed as he ripped the latching mechanism out of the door, dropping it on the floor and barging inside.  There was a small hallway beyond, and a few steps brought Jonathan past a dim storage room and to the miniscule operating theatre at the far end.  The doctor¡¯s medical mask lay on the table next to his instruments, and both he and his patient turned to look at Jonathan.

    They were smiling.

    The doctor¡¯s grin stretched almost all the way around to meet at the back of his neck, baring far too many teeth to fit in a normal human mouth.  George¡¯s smile was nearly as wide, stretching back to under his ears and showing incisors and molars that were stretched and starting to split, dividing into two identical versions of themselves.  Despite his grievous wounds, his shirtless chest showing a multitude of stitches along his stomach, he sprung up out of the chair.

    ¡°Dear god,¡± Eleanor said from behind him as Jonathan backed up, holding his cane at the ready.  ¡°The Second Gospel?¡±

    ¡°The Third Gospel of the Smiling Man,¡± Jonathan said quietly.  The First Gospel he¡¯d seen in Beacon was mostly harmless, but the Second and Third were not meant for the human mind.  ¡°Run.¡±

    Eleanor beat a hasty retreat as he backed down the hallway, ignoring the words that the doctor was speaking.  There was a nauseating, seductive quality to the Gospel being recited, but the pristine reality of sunlight burned away any temptation he might have had to listen.  While Jonathan was certain of his ability to best the two of them, no confrontation would stop there and he preferred not to escalate any more than he had.

    His foot sent the discarded latch sliding along the floor as he backed into the anteroom, feeling the wind at his back as someone opened the outside door.  Jonathan risked a glance and then turned and dashed through after Jameson, who at least had the wit not to protest the hasty retreat.  He slammed the door after, glad of the gale and the pounding thunder of the rain.  The noise would drown out the Gospel.

    ¡°What about George?¡± Jameson asked, matching pace with Jonathan.  Eleanor¡¯s figure was already halfway down the street, practically carrying Marie with Sarah¡¯s help.

    ¡°He¡¯s gone,¡± Jonathan said shortly, and pointed in the direction of the port.  ¡°Get to the ship!  Go!¡±  He followed words with action and lengthened his stride, catching up with Eleanor just as lightning flashed again.  The sudden light revealed scores of figures on the streets.  All the townsfolk had appeared by some invisible summons, and without their cloaks, hoods, cowls, and scarfs, it was clear all of them had the awful, achingly over-wide smiles.

    ¡°Plug your ears and run!¡± Jonathan shouted, though he didn¡¯t follow half of his own advice, pulling his sword from the cane sheath and grimly reflecting that he¡¯d gotten more use out of it than he¡¯d ever expected.  He darted out ahead of the others, knocking aside clubs and belaying pins, and having no compunctions about using his blade.  The time for caution was past.

    As if responding to the tension below, the growl of thunder became almost constant, lightning flickering in strobes to catch the converging townsfolk.  There were too many to count, but at a full sprint they couldn¡¯t catch up to the Endeavor¡¯s passengers and crew so close to the great stone hand.  Jonathan scrambled up the slippery wooden posts, nearly falling off as a stray gust of wind caught him, and found that the gaffer¡¯s hut had been smashed to splinters.  There was still a hissing, glowing residue of zint, likely Antomine¡¯s work.

    Jameson was the last to scramble up the uneven platform of the stone palm as shouts from above greeted them.  A weighted line thudded down to the stone and Jonathan tucked his cane sheath into his belt before he grabbed it with one hand, menacing the top of the stairs with his sword.  The first of the Smiling Men to top it was, by some malevolent coincidence, George, who didn¡¯t lunge or attack but merely beamed at them with his hands spread wide and recited the first Verse.

    ¡°On the ninth month, as the clock chimed none, did the joy of the Smiling Man¡ª¡±

    Jonathan blocked it out before he heard the truly dangerous words, and someone on the ship hauled at the line. Everyone clung to it as it began its ascent, and Jonathan glanced upward, and sheathed his cane just in time to catch Marie as she slipped from Eleanor¡¯s grasp.  For a moment he did consider just leaving her as it would remove a potential problem in the future, but that was a dark thought and so unworthy of sunlight. The tall and pale maid grunted, breath hissing from her as he clamped an arm on her injured side, but gave no complaint.

    Then they were on the lowest deck of the Endeavor, away from the poisonous words of the Gospel.  Montgomery was there with Antomine and his two guards, who had been the ones working the rope.  Jonathan found himself breathing hard, even though he hadn¡¯t noticed the need during the entire hectic flight.

    ¡°Smiling Man Cult.¡±  Antomine half said, half-asked.  Jonathan nodded, though he wasn¡¯t sure that calling them a cult was appropriate.  There was more to it than just blasphemous beliefs and secret societies.

    ¡°Captain, I need to commandeer your cannon,¡± Antomine said, as zint spotlights played over the stone hand and its surroundings.  Despite its power, the illumination barely did more than show smeared figures through the driving rain.  Some of the townspeople stood on the palm, still chanting, the horrible words not entirely audible but still offering some awful resonance that vibrated up through the ship.

    ¡°What?¡± Montgomery said, startled.

    ¡°This town has been infected with forbidden secrets,¡± Antomine said, gesturing to his two guards, who wordlessly formed up on either side of him.  ¡°But some work with proper artillery will address that.¡±

    ¡°Are you mad?¡± Eleanor asked, staring at him.  ¡°There¡¯s hundreds of people there!  They can¡¯t all be like those creepy Gospelites.¡±

    ¡°I must agree,¡± Montgomery said.  ¡°I have no wish for my ship to be party to such an atrocity.¡±

    ¡°This is a matter of the Inquisition,¡± Antomine said, the boyish persona gone to reveal the dangerous Crown agent beneath.  ¡°Are you both suggesting treason?¡±  Jonathan pressed his lips together in distaste before stepping forward to intervene.

    ¡°While I am no more a supporter of the Inquisition¡¯s excesses than you are, Mister Antomine has a point,¡± Jonathan said, inclining his head to the young man.  ¡°If it were merely the First and Second Gospel, I would suggest a squad of doughty men with guns and swords.  But with the Third Gospel, nobody will be left untainted.  Even the buildings need to be destroyed, lest they hold onto echoes.¡±  The only other time he¡¯d encountered the Third Gospel, it had been addressed rather more aggressively than that, and there was now a deep lake where a village had once stood.

    ¡°I¡¯m still not¡­¡±  Montgomery said uncomfortably.  Jonathan sympathized.  The captain and crew of an airship were tough men, but asking them to participate in wholesale slaughter was too much for them.

    ¡°My guards will be sufficient,¡± Antomine said, unbending a small amount.  ¡°You can go about your duties, Captain.  This will be the Inquisition¡¯s burden entirely.¡±  Montgomery hesitated, but Jonathan give him a small nod and he eventually relented, ordering his men to continue their cleanup.

    ¡°Really?¡± Eleanor hissed to him as thunder growled once again.  ¡°You¡¯re taking his side?¡±

    ¡°I wish I didn¡¯t have to,¡± Jonathan sighed.  ¡°But the Third Gospel is an unspeakable menace, and we¡¯re stuck anyway unless we want to be blown to wherever the storm would send us.  Best to get Marie to Doc Graham and forget about it.¡±

    Eleanor scowled but turned to help Marie up, apologizing under her breath as the trio of Reflected Council agents climbed up to the middle deck.  Antomine followed after.  Jonathan went last, and by the time he reached his cabin the sound of the zint cannons thrummed through the ship.

 Chapter Six

    The mood aboard the Endeavor was somber by the time they left the remains of Danner¡¯s Grasp. The site of the town was smoldering zint, interrupted with the orange glow of lingering fire and splinters of sheltershrooms still holding their green light. With the storm past, they could continue on their course and it wasn¡¯t likely that the mercenary ship would be able to catch up to them any time soon after being blown for miles by the winds.

    Once they were in the air, Antomine held a service for the three dead crew ¡ª all of which had been picked up in Beacon. George¡¯s casket was empty, but there had been no talk of trying to find his body in the ruination of the corrupted settlement. Everyone assembled in the cargo bay, with ship¡¯s controls pinned to keep them steady, and Antomine said the proper words. Each casket was closed and, one by one, rendered into dust by immersion in distilled luminiferous terrestrite before being dispersed in the wind.

    The single bright note was that Penelope, the ship¡¯s cat, stayed perched on Montgomery¡¯s shoulder the whole time, grooming her wings and regarding the proceedings with haughty feline grandeur. She¡¯d survived the bombardment that had turned the Endeavor into a wreck before Jonathan had paid for the refit, and she¡¯d emerged from the boarding action unscathed, so the ship¡¯s luck wasn¡¯t entirely bad.

    Antomine conducted the service for the mercenary boarders next, with eight cheap myceliplank boxes. The enemy airmen, in their uniforms, followed the Endeavor¡¯s crew as the young chaplain administered the final rites. The two survivors of the attempt were allowed to attend, though Antomine¡¯s guards loomed menacingly. Considering that both had needed the tender mercies of Doc Graham just to move, they couldn¡¯t possibly have mischief on their mind ¡ª and even if they did, they were hardly capable of it.

    Autochthon Reach came into view later in the day, the glow of gas and zint burning bright at the end of the train line below. The city badly wanted to be another Beacon, going so far as to whitewash its walls, but that just gave it a cracked veneer of false purity. Even the illuminated tower wasn¡¯t quite right, as the lighthouse used gas instead of zint, channeling one of the innumerable wells into an ever-burning torch rising above the city walls. All the oldest cities were sited above such gas wells, though some new ones had been founded with the advent of rail and zint ¡ª though sometimes the supplies were rather precarious.

    It was a relief to all on the Endeavor when, upon tethering to the docking pylons, the city was full of the normal bustle and traffic that any human settlement should have. The shadow of Danner¡¯s Grasp had been palpable, everyone tense and uncertain as they approached the city, but Jonathan knew that Autochthon Reach would be safe. It was on the main train line from Beacon, so anything untoward would be noticed immediately and crushed without mercy.

    ¡°Most of my old crew are still with me,¡± Captain Montgomery told Jonathan, sharing a drink in the captain¡¯s quarters once the ship was properly tied down. ¡°The twelve that came along to begin with are here through hell or high waters, sure enough. But we need twenty to really run the Endeavor, and I¡¯m afraid we¡¯ll lose most of the new folk here after that business. Hiring on people willing to head out of human lands might take a while.¡±

    ¡°I appreciate the honesty, Captain,¡± Jonathan replied, swirling the brandy in his snifter and letting the ice clink against the sides. ¡°But we cannot simply hold here. If you can¡¯t find a full crew soon, we¡¯ll find them at Danby¡¯s.¡±

    ¡°If we don¡¯t find them here or at Danby¡¯s, we¡¯re going to have problems,¡± Montgomery warned, taking out a pipe and tamping an exotic leaf into the bowl. The choice of smoke was an odd one, considering how hard it was to get a steady supply, but it was potent stuff and hard to begrudge the Captain his relaxation. ¡°We can fly short-handed for a while, especially if we¡¯re not too far from a city, but I won¡¯t be going out into the wilderness with half my complement.¡±

    ¡°Nor would I ask it of you.¡± Jonathan swallowed the last of the brandy and made a mental note to get more while he could. ¡°That would be supremely unwise, and if need be we will linger until we are properly crewed. What worries me is giving whatever agent sent those mercenaries against us more time. I doubt anyone would be willing or able to follow us too far out into the wilds, but there¡¯s still plenty of opportunity for that ship to catch up while we wait here.¡±

    ¡°Maybe, but then we have to worry about coming back,¡± Montgomery said with a grunt, puffing gently on his pipe. ¡°Could be better to resolve it now if we can. Hate to think about limping into port loaded down with treasure and there being a bunch of people lined up to take it from us.¡±

    ¡°I knew you were the right choice,¡± Jonathan put down the empty snifter and inclined his head to Montgomery. ¡°Most people wouldn¡¯t be thinking that far ahead.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t need my ego stroked,¡± Montgomery grunted, looking at Jonathan through a haze of smoke. ¡°I need my ship and crew safe.¡±

    ¡°Quite understandable,¡± Jonathan agreed. Ship and crew were resources to be valued, and haste would only squander that investment. ¡°I¡¯ll make some arrangements here and at Danby¡¯s, and make sure we have friends waiting for us whenever we return. There are a few people who owe me favors ¡ª or I can owe favors to.¡± Jonathan¡¯s finger made idle circles in the condensation on his glass as he mused over it. He didn¡¯t intend to come back, but the others deserved some consideration for their role in bringing him east. ¡°I will give us three days here. Four, at the outside. There are no repairs that would take longer than that, I expect?¡±

    ¡°Not likely,¡± Montgomery agreed in a gruff tone. ¡°Some scoring on the envelope, and the upper hatch needs to be replaced. Simple enough. Be good to get some more cleaning done, and air out the ship.¡±

    ¡°Then I¡¯ll leave you to it,¡± Jonathan said, and stood. ¡°My own errands should not take overlong.¡±

    He took a few moments to sort through his luggage, transferring several items to his pockets, and then needlessly straightened his cuffs before he stepped off the Endeavor. His cane rang on the boarding ramp with metronome precision as he headed to the paternoster, and down to the streets of Autochthon Reach. Up close, the off-white of the buildings was more yellow under the light of the gas lamps, and there was the oddly sweet smell from the harbor it was named after.

    Jonathan kept his eyes sharp as he walked along the smooth paving of the street, out of the path of the mostly zint-powered carriages. Only twice did he have to run off pickpockets, by the simple expedient of turning his head to stare directly at them before they got too near. It would have been nice if working with the Reflected Council gave him some immunity from the seedy underbelly of Autochthon Reach, but crime wasn¡¯t nearly as organized as the penny dreadfuls would have people believe.

    Not far from the docks he found a hired carriage, which brought him away from the rougher sector near the port and to the string of estates on the promontory looking out over the Reach itself. Small lights hunkered on the water near the shore, as if afraid to go too far out. As well they might be, given what lurked in the deep waters of the Autochthon Sea. Every sailor who spent more than a few days on those waters had tales of phosphorescent glimmers outlining writhing forms that stretched the horizon, or hearing low whispers bubbling up through the froth of the waves.

    The estate he was interested in proudly proclaimed its interests by way of a front yard displaying statues of twisted forms, many of them verging on the obscene or the profane and none of them human. The owner could only stay away from the eye of Antomine¡¯s colleagues by exquisite perception of what fell just short of that invisible line, and hefty bribes to the local churches and government. Just walking to the front door made Jonathan could feel the accumulated blasphemies, like a discordant note on the edge of his senses.

    ¡°Master Heights,¡± the elderly butler greeted him with instant recognition, even though Jonathan had only been there once before. ¡°Please come this way. Master Ludwig is expecting you.¡±

    Jonathan followed the butler through wide halls lit by ever-burning gas lamps, the walls featuring art that used colors and shapes not native to the human eye. Strange artifacts stood in cases, fragments of ceramic and iron that mirrored those that had once filled Jonathan¡¯s own house, though on a much grander and more daring scale. The walls and floor were paneled with a burgundy from the Verdant Expanse in lieu of the native stone, which made the estate much warmer while not incidentally demonstrating the owner¡¯s massive wealth.

    The butler brought him to an expansive library with a carpet whose colors drew a slow gradient from one side to the other, the piles made of some fabric from the uncertain lands beyond Godforge. Andr¨¦ Ludwig himself was a big-bellied and big-bearded fellow, jolly looking in a pale peach suit, sat reading by the fireplace, fingers flicking pages with mechanical precision. His right hand gleamed as if it were made of metal ¡ª and it might well be, but it was certainly no prosthetic. Andr¨¦¡¯s past was shrouded in obscurity, but with the decoration of the house such a deformity was certainly evidence of a certain type of misspent youth.

    ¡°Jonathan!¡± Andr¨¦ boomed, laying the book aside and standing up, energetically striding over to shake hands. The metal one was slightly warmer than flesh. ¡°I heard you were coming! Surprised you made it here yourself actually! Though I can guess sending it through the post could be a problem,¡± he finished, giving Jonathan a sly wink. ¡°You¡¯re looking far better these days!¡±

    ¡°Civilized clothing and a few good meals, that¡¯s all,¡± Jonathan demurred, finally freeing his hand from Andr¨¦¡¯s grasp. The eccentric had been heaven-sent when Jonathan had arrived from the wilds, bedraggled and half-feral for lack of human company, but his help had come with certain strings.

    ¡°No doubt, no doubt,¡± Andr¨¦ said cheerfully, looking Jonathan up and down. ¡°Did you bring it?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Jonathan said, reaching into his suit and withdrawing an envelope from his inner pocket. Despite his experience with antiquities of all sorts, there were things he did not work with. A rule that he¡¯d had to bend in order to secure transportation and some surreptitious aid in returning to Beacon with life, limb, and property intact.

    He owed Andr¨¦, and Jonathan Heights was a man of his word. More, Jonathan preferred to have an ally in the city ¡ª he didn¡¯t intend to be there long, but the opposition he¡¯d encountered was more than he had anticipated. There was no telling what mischief might be performed while the Endeavor was in port.

    Andr¨¦ took the envelope with an eager gleam in his eye, extracting the slip of paper within and tossing the envelope in the fireplace. He whirled around to march three steps to a desk, slamming the translation on top of a large scrawl of twisted script, and looked over it feverishly. Jonathan took a step back. As a collector, Andr¨¦ had many partial fragments of various secrets of those ancient and baleful races and ruins beyond the bounds of humanity¡¯s light. He had needed only that last telling detail, that final salacious hint to complete some of the puzzles that drove his bent but brilliant intellect, and Jonathan was the only one who knew enough to deliver it.

    The metallic hand made a fist, then uncurled again, fingers twitching as a dark light came and went behind Andr¨¦¡¯s eyes. The man muttered to himself in a half-dozen tongues, fragments of words as if assembling some complete thought from it. Jonathan only hoped the man had the strength of mind to come to grips with whatever dread surmise he had gleaned from the fragment Jonathan had provided.

    ¡°Yes, of course,¡± Andr¨¦ said aloud after half a minute of wrestling with malign insight. ¡°Ha! No wonder old Reginald thought there were other lands beyond the darkness. Your dad was a lot sharper than I thought.¡± He turned his regard on Jonathan, an almost hypnotic draw to his eyes. ¡°Is that where you¡¯re going, hmm? I can keep a secret.¡±

    There was a dangerous temptation to speak, the fire dimming as Andr¨¦ turned his full intent upon Jonathan. Whatever strange understanding Andr¨¦ had found was clearly a genuine one, the power of his obsession burning through into reality and able to sway the heart and minds of anyone with a weak enough will. Jonathan was not such a person, so he merely hardened his heart and his tone.

    ¡°My business is my own, Andr¨¦. I would prefer nobody else meddling in it.¡± Even if Jonathan was interested in his father¡¯s old business, it was best not to feed even the slightest hint of vulnerability.

    Andr¨¦¡¯s genial demeanor vanished like a shadow in light, revealing the hard and calculating man that had made so much money building Autochthon Reach¡¯s roads and sewers. Muscles tensed, showing a substantial figure under the rotund exterior. Jonathan took another step back, hand gripping his cane tight, ready to move.

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°Who are you to deny me, eh? A third-rate explorer, son of a second-rate explorer. A bit of a gift for languages and some middling luck and you think you know everything!¡±

    ¡°I know very little, Andr¨¦,¡± Jonathan said, keeping his gaze focused on the man. What he did know was how heady and intoxicating even the smallest glimpse into the underpinnings the world could be, and was willing to let the sudden flush of arrogance run its course. The chance that it wouldn¡¯t ¨C or that Andr¨¦ would go utterly mad ¨C was why Jonathan hadn¡¯t wanted to come himself. But if Andr¨¦ could be satisfied, he would be an incredible source of help. ¡°My search is for something you wouldn¡¯t be interested in, my route there one that is dangerous to explain.¡±

    ¡°Dangerous? This is dangerous,¡± Andr¨¦ waved at the interlocked symbols and writing upon his desk. Jonathan purposely let his eyes slide past it, so he would not be tempted to see what pattern was revealed. ¡°Prying secrets from the world¡¯s grasp, making them your own, peering past the veil to understand what a perilous rope we navigate with every breath and every step!¡±

    ¡°Yes, precisely,¡± Jonathan said, and Andr¨¦ paused for a moment, thrown by the unexpected agreement. ¡°Do you remember what I told you when I agreed to translate those relics, Andr¨¦? What I warned you about?¡± Jonathan watched Andr¨¦ closely as he began to remove his jacket, folding it over his arm.

    He couldn¡¯t afford to get into a spat with such a personage, not because he feared Andr¨¦ could best him physically, but because of the calculus of consequence if he was forced to defend himself. If Jonathan left the estate in flames, the Inquisition and Antomine would know, and it would make it difficult for the expedition to continue at the very least. A situation which Jonathan did not find attractive.

    ¡°As I recall,¡± Andr¨¦ said slowly, ¡°you reminded me that knowledge was jealous, a tyrant that brooked no rivals.¡±

    ¡°Precisely. You¡¯re a smart man, Andr¨¦, and you¡¯ve certainly read the reports of all those poor fools who understood one too many hints, stared just slightly too deep into the mysteries and enigmas that surround us. You¡¯re wrestling with a single revelation that is trying to rule over you ¡ª and I doubt very much you would wish to strain yourself further. But I can tell you what I¡¯m looking for, as that is hardly a secret.¡± As Jonathan spoke he approached Andr¨¦, his jacket folded over his arm.

    ¡°That will do, for a start,¡± Andr¨¦ said, face contorted by a sudden hunger.

    ¡°I¡¯m after sunlight,¡± Jonathan said, and watched Andr¨¦¡¯s expression. It cycled through disbelief, curiosity, rejection, then anger. Andr¨¦ clearly didn¡¯t think Jonathan was taking him seriously. As he was about to explode Jonathan tossed his coat over the notes exposed on the desk, and a hidden pressure that had been pressing down on the room vanished.

    Andr¨¦ launched himself forward, as if he could strangle Jonathan with his bare hands, and Jonathan wrapped the big-bellied man in a hold that a tattooed sailor had taught him long ago. Andr¨¦ struggled, limbs flexing in ways that were not quite human, but as the seconds passed he eventually succumbed to the choking grip. When he sagged, Jonathan eased him into a chair and cast about the library for supplies. He repurposed a curtain to cover the arcane symbology on the desk, and poured a hefty shot from the liquor cabinet in the corner. Then he shook Andr¨¦ gently and, as the man came to, Jonathan shoved the whiskey into his hand.

    ¡°Feeling better?¡± Jonathan inquired, not unkindly. In answer, Andr¨¦ took a large gulp of alcohol and breathed deeply for a moment.

    ¡°I do apologize,¡± Andr¨¦ said after a moment. ¡°I was overcome.¡± He looked up at Jonathan, and while he wasn¡¯t as manic, there was still a darkness behind his eyes. Knowledge, once learned, could not be unlearned.

    ¡°Certainly,¡± Jonathan said, straightening his jacket and making sure it was arranged properly. ¡°Though I was not lying. I have seen sunlight, and it is that which I am following. Beyond that, you understand why I have no desire to share.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a fairy tale,¡± Andr¨¦ said, eyes wandering to the covered desk. ¡°But I should not mock it. You know what you¡¯re about.¡±

    ¡°I may consider our accounts settled, then?¡± Jonathan asked, leaning on his cane while Andr¨¦ took more discreet sips of his drink.

    ¡°Certainly, certainly,¡± Andr¨¦ waved it away. ¡°Now that I understand ¡ª my god! It is¡ª¡± Jonathan threw up a hand after maybe a dozen words, the arrangement of which made no sense to him and yet still hinted at some undiscernible order.

    ¡°I am afraid that is beyond my understanding,¡± Jonathan said. ¡°If you would indulge me, I have one question and a favor I might ask you.¡±

    ¡°Ask away!¡± Andr¨¦ said, stroking his beard and clearly in a better humor.

    ¡°What did my father tell you of his work? I inherited all his notes ¡ª but for the last one, which he took with him on his final expedition.¡± Needless to say, Reginald Heights hadn¡¯t returned from that one, and though that particular notebook had still wound up in Jonathan¡¯s hands ¨C something he would certainly not admit to Andr¨¦ ¨C it was a mere patchwork puzzle of a living man¡¯s thoughts. If Andr¨¦ could shed any further light on what Jonathan knew, resolve any of the unknowns that still plagued Jonathan¡¯s route, he had to find out.

    ¡°Not so much, in all,¡± Andr¨¦ said, standing up and turning toward the drinks cabinet, having already finished the high-proof stuff Jonathan had poured for him. ¡°He provided some of the first pieces of my collection, but his work ¡ª when he spoke, I understood maybe one word in ten. Old Reginald seemed fixated on the idea that this world was but one layer, and things like zint-light were leakage from others. He was looking for points where such leakage became actual passages, but so far as I knew he never found one.¡± By his flushed face, Andr¨¦ was feeling the effects of the drink, but his words remained perfectly steady and articulate.

    ¡°That aligns with my own findings,¡± Jonathan said, though Reginald had become increasingly distant and uncommunicative toward the end. While Jonathan didn¡¯t quite agree with his father¡¯s understanding, the notes he¡¯d left of his explorations and discovers had been vital for Jonathan¡¯s own career.

    ¡°The favor then ¡ª my ship was accosted by mercenaries on the way here, yet I don¡¯t know why. Do you know of anyone who has been asking after me? Or, for that matter, who could object so strongly to my expedition as to hire an entire airship to intercept me, with all the difficulties that entails?¡± He¡¯d been musing on it for the entire flight to Autochthon Reach, and the more he considered it the more he realized how much of an investment that attack had been.

    ¡°That is a question,¡± Andr¨¦ admitted. ¡°It¡¯s not like your little trip is a secret ¡ª it was in the papers a month or so ago. At the back, admittedly. Used to be any expedition was enough to garner an article,¡± he added mournfully. ¡°All the fire¡¯s gone out of the kingdom. People want to just shelter in their safe little houses behind their walls. We used to care about pushing out the borders of humanity!¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a shame,¡± Jonathan murmured politely. Andr¨¦¡¯s complaint had no real grounds, but it seemed impolitic to disagree.

    ¡°You, specifically, I have not heard about.¡± Andr¨¦ glanced once again at the covered desk, clearly tempted, before returning his regard to Jonathan. ¡°But a fast courier arrived several days ago, just ahead of the last storm. Unusual, as that would only be marginally faster than a train, and even more unusual, it¡¯s still here. It¡¯s the only thing of note I can think of.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Jonathan said. ¡°If you find out anything else, I would appreciate a missive.¡±

    ¡°I will make a few inquiries, but I can promise nothing.¡±

    ¡°That is more than enough,¡± Jonathan said. ¡°Unless there is any business, I believe I should be about my business.¡±

    ¡°You should,¡± Andr¨¦ agreed. He didn¡¯t offer his hand, merely gestured with his drink to the door of the library. Jonathan turned to leave, and his hand was on the knob when Andr¨¦¡¯s voice came again. ¡°And Jonathan?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°If you lay hands on me again, I will end you,¡± Andr¨¦ said, entirely without rancor.

    ¡°Understood, Andr¨¦,¡± Jonathan said, and left.

    He found another carriage to transport him back to the port, glad to leave Andr¨¦ and his obsessions behind. There was no telling what Andr¨¦ knew ¨C or thought he knew ¨C or what such knowledge would drive him to. If the man could make inquiries, that was for the best, but Jonathan had hoped for something actionable.

    The Endeavor was quiet when Jonathan went past the airman on watch, with half the crew gone. Antomine was taking care of the prisoners and sending messages back to Beacon, while Eleanor had made vague excuses before vanishing into the city. He thought she was also sourcing ampules that fit the rifles they¡¯d taken from the mercenaries, but he wouldn¡¯t have been surprised if there was some Reflected Council business to deal with.

    Perhaps it was that very stillness that disquieted him, or lingering nerves from dealing with Andr¨¦, but Jonathan found himself on edge as he mounted the stairs to the uppermost deck. He stopped and listened, hearing only the noise of the port through the removed top hatch, and continued on to his cabin and gingerly opened the door. There was nobody inside, but someone had certainly been there.

    Crates that had still been packed were unsealed, hasty crowbar-work splintering the myceliplank and spilling clothing, tools, and artifacts over the floor of the room. The drawers of his desk were open, and even the mattress of his bed had been cut open, spilling the packing over the floor. It was, withal, a mess, and in it Jonathan detected the selfsame hand he¡¯d been seeking.

    He closed the door behind him, wedging his cane into the handle to keep the door barred, and approached his safe with caution. Forcing it, let alone taking the massive chunk of iron, would have been nigh-impossible to do without being noticed, but cracking it was always an option. He rotated the dial through the familiar numbers and opened it, taking in the contents at a glance. The papers and petty cash were still there, but there was one notable and glaring absence.

    His maps.

    Jonathan¡¯s fists clenched, but he refused to panic just yet. First he extracted a particular fragment of broken mirror from other keepsakes crowding the drawers of his desk and examined the safe in the reflection, sliding his fingers into the triggers and opening the hidden compartment. He lifted the lid and let out a slow breath as he saw the contents intact.

    His original notes, and his father¡¯s notebooks, were irreplaceable. The maps derived from them were less so, but reconstructing them would take time. More time than Jonathan was willing to spend, especially when it was so obvious there was someone with the resources to move against him. That they were missing instead of destroyed suggested that they could be recovered ¡ª and as he¡¯d kept them in cipher, it would take time for anyone to interpret them, even if they were copied wholesale. Which they would find it difficult to do.

    He closed the safe and returned the mirror to its place in the desk, then went below decks to find the man on watch. The airman had seen nothing, of course, but there were a dozen ways to approach the ship from above, and with the hatch missing there wouldn¡¯t even be noise from that. It was an oversight on his part, to assume that the Endeavor would be sacrosanct within the port environs, or at least that his own cabin would remain unmolested. One he would be correcting.

    Righting things within his study and finding nothing of any value missing aside from the maps, he first penned a missive to Andr¨¦ to inform him of the theft ¡ª though Jonathan gave even odds that Andr¨¦ was the one behind it. Then he waited for Eleanor to return, pacing the lower deck where the gangplank ran out to the port. While Antomine would need to know as well, Jonathan did not expect his particular talents to be of use.

    When Eleanor approached the ship, she had only one maid in her retinue; Marie was, presumably, in convalescence somewhere better-equipped than an airship. Upon seeing him waiting at the gangplank, seated upon a spare barrel, she adjusted her cloche hat and squared her shoulders before marching up to him. She jerked her chin toward the ship, having no wish to discuss business in public, and he followed her in.

    ¡°What now?¡± She snapped, her mood already poor.

    ¡°We¡¯ve had a break-in,¡± Jonathan said, unruffled. ¡°They took my maps. Which I can reconstitute if necessary, but finding them would be faster ¡ª and of course, we might find out who has set themselves against us.¡± He left unsaid that they could then remove that person. Eleanor huffed in exasperation, but nodded and turned to Sarah.

    ¡°Secure our quarters, please,¡± she directed. ¡°Ensure that nobody¡¯s been inside them.¡±

    ¡°Ma¡¯am,¡± Sarah said, and preceded them up the stairway. Eleanor went to his cabin, and he opened the door for her. She prowled inside and he watched from the doorway as she looked around, then opened the safe door with an ease demonstrating either knowledge of the combination or a more esoteric talent. He wouldn¡¯t have bet money either way.

    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have cleaned up,¡± she muttered over her shoulder at him, then straightened. ¡°I¡¯m not some penny-dreadful detective to track them by scent alone, but it¡¯s definitely a them. The safecracker was a lot more skilled than the muscle, so they shouldn¡¯t be too hard to find if you know where to ask the right questions.¡±

    ¡°Which you do,¡± Jonathan said, leaning on his cane as she closed the safe with her foot. He could feel the impact of the heavy door slamming home through the deck.

    ¡°Which I do,¡± she agreed.

    ¡°My lady, our rooms are untouched,¡± Sarah said from further down the hall. Eleanor scowled.

    ¡°So they went right to your cabin,¡± she said, and Jonathan nodded. The conclusion was obvious: at least one of the crew had spilled the information. Likely one of the ones who had abandoned the ship after the recent difficulties.

    ¡°Very well. Sarah?¡± She called again. ¡°Get changed. We¡¯re going out,¡± Eleanor said, and then pointed a finger at Jonathan. ¡°You will not be welcome where we¡¯re going.¡±

    ¡°I have no intention of intruding in Reflected Council business, I assure you,¡± Jonathan chuckled, one hand atop the other as he leaned on his cane. ¡°There is a particular courier ship in port I have business with that may be related to this little problem. Or perhaps not, but it is a better use of my time than waiting for you to return with my maps.¡±

    ¡°What if they¡¯ve copied ¡®em?¡± Eleanor asked, lingering at the door to her own cabin.

    ¡°I would not worry about that overmuch. The new cipher is far better and certain aspects are not so easily reproduced ¡ª however.¡± Jonathan pursed his lips. ¡°If they have made copies, I see no reason we should not make ourselves beneficiaries of our adversary¡¯s work.¡±

    ¡°So long as they¡¯re not going to spontaneously combust while I hold ¡®em or anything,¡± Eleanor muttered. Jonathan snorted.

    ¡°Nothing so volatile,¡± he assured her.

    ¡°Barring someone taking them from the city, I should have them back by dinner,¡± Eleanor told him, and closed the door to her room. Jonathan strapped on the shoulder holster for his pistol and ran his fingers over his suit, even though it hung perfectly as always. Only then did he descend the stairs and cross the gangplank out to the port.

    Autochthon Reach had seven distinct towers with mooring beams, all illuminated by gas run from one of the innumerable wells the city had tapped. Most of the zint-light was from the docked ships, cold blue clashing with warm yellow and casting fractured shadows in every direction.

    Among the spotlights the small courier ship, with its sleek lines and overlarge engines, was easy to spot against the larger cargo and passenger hulls. Jonathan eyed the complex of lifts, walkways, rope bridges, and cranes, and marched briskly along the mooring arm. Perhaps it was innocent, but in his experience nothing happened by chance.

 Chapter Seven

    Jonathan stepped off the paternoster and approached the gangplank to the courier ship, which had the name Lady Green painted in large letters across the hull, determined to get some answers. The logo over the ship¡¯s narrow door was that of the Leary Company, one of the old and venerable names for transport, so Jonathan altered his approach accordingly. An aggressive walk became a confident stroll, and his grip on his cane went from ready for action to elegant sophistication.

    There were no crew out front to receive callers, so Jonathan rapped on the metal door with his cane handle. He didn¡¯t have long to wait, as a mere few seconds later the door opened to reveal an aged airman with a drooping moustache and a face dominated by heavy jowls. The airman¡¯s look of annoyance shifted as he took in Jonathan¡¯s impeccable suit, expensive cane, and patient-but-friendly expression, and he reached up to touch his cap.

    ¡°What c¡¯n I do for you, sir?¡±

    ¡°My name is Jonathan Heights, owner of one of the airships docked here. We¡¯ve had trouble with some thieves and I believe they are trying to implicate your ship in the incident.¡± No captain or crew ever wanted trouble of any sort, so convincing them to help him required a certain finessing of the truth. Not that Jonathan was afraid to resort to an outright lie, but he found they were rarely necessary.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have to get the Captain, Mister Heights,¡± the airman said, and Jonathan nodded amicably. He tapped the cane lightly against the gangplank as he waited, no more than another minute or so before a much younger man in a crisp lieutenant¡¯s uniform appeared to usher him inside. The Lady Green¡¯s age was visible, and despite being impeccably clean the floor and doors and hatches were worn, the glass windows slightly hazy. The bridge was barely larger than his cabin aboard the Endeavor, with a navigation array good for little more than determining north from south ¡ª but couriers only ran between cities, so they were never out of sight of landmarks.

    ¡°Mister Heights, what¡¯s this about?¡± The captain was overly portly, with pinched eyes and a mangled ear. He didn¡¯t invite Jonathan to sit.

    ¡°A thief stole aboard my ship and took certain navigational maps,¡± Jonathan said, which certainly got the captain¡¯s attention. ¡°Due to certain evidence, I believe that the perpetrator was trying to direct us toward your most recent passenger. A man from Beacon, I believe?¡±

    ¡°Aye, that he was,¡± the captain said cautiously.

    ¡°Do you happen to know who he represented, or where he went?¡± Jonathan remained affable, but a hardness behind his eyes made the captain and the able airmen next to him somewhat nervous. ¡°Then I can leave you be and bring trouble to those that deserve it.¡± The captain¡¯s eyes flickered, gauging Jonathan¡¯s demeanor, then finally he heaved a sigh.

    ¡°A mister Harrington, with the Society of Explorers. He said we could send any missives to the Faithful Respite, in the merchant¡¯s quarter.¡± The captain didn¡¯t seem happy to say it, but Jonathan couldn¡¯t detect any notes of falsehood. Especially since he could well believe the Society would be so petty as to steal his maps ¡ª likely they wished to before, but had been constrained by both the Crown and Reflected Council presence in Beacon.

    Hiring a mercenary ship to harass an exploration vessel was an outlandish expense regardless of who might have sent it ¡ª but that the Society in particular would squander its limited coffers on such a thing was more than passing strange. Jealousy was an ugly but powerful motivator, though whether it would bestir the amount of coin necessary for such an operation was an entirely different consideration. He didn¡¯t recognize Harrington¡¯s name, but with luck Jonathan could use the man to persuade the Society that interfering with him was a poor idea.

    ¡°Thank you, Captain. I assure you that you will hear no more about this affair,¡± Jonathan said, and the captain swallowed, then gestured for the lieutenant to escort him out. His cane tapped ominously on the metal decking of the ship to remind them what storm had passed them by, then on the gangplank with a brisk, determined punctuation as he left the courier ship behind. He found it fortunate they had been cooperative, as otherwise the Endeavor¡¯s stay at Autochthon Reach would have likely become quite fraught.

    Descending from the mooring towers, he once again found a hired carriage. The driver did know where the boardinghouse in question was, and while he gave Jonathan a doubtful look at the request, he let Jonathan off a few streets away. Jonathan¡¯s silver coin was more than enough to silence any comments.

    The gas-lamps of the merchant¡¯s quarter cast faintly flickering shadows of passers-by on streets and walls, the big glass bells of the burners standing on tall iron lampposts that showed streaks of rust. He strolled along the street toward the boardinghouse, the sweet smell of the Reach¡¯s waters mingled with the musty leather of old books, the sharpness of exotic spices, and the dull cold of old stone. None of the people seemed to pay him any particular attention, just one well-dressed gentleman among many, but there were a pair of burly men smoking pipes on the landing outside of the Faithful Respite that seemed a little too interested in anyone who came close by.

    Jonathan thumped his cane on the cobbles of the street as he thought, passing by the boardinghouse and turning to enter a discreet cigar shop with an engraving of a lit match on the door. The hired muscle was fairly obvious, which meant that the Society expected trouble. As Jonathan was the only one who would be giving them trouble, it behooved him to take a more measured approach than simply kicking in the door. He browsed the selection for a few minutes as he considered options, handing the hovering clerk a few coins and tucking his purchases into his jacket, before he blinked and turned to a familiar figure entering the store.

    ¡°Not a coincidence, I take it?¡± Eleanor asked, tilting her head in the direction of the boardinghouse.

    ¡°If there is a coincidence here, it is only in the timing,¡± Jonathan said. ¡°You tracked the maps rather quickly.¡±

    ¡°Petty criminals are very easy to persuade,¡± Eleanor said, her eyes glinting, and she clearly had not charmed it out of her targets. ¡°I¡¯m not impressed with this Harrington. He just had the goods sent here.¡±

    ¡°I doubt a member of the Society of Explorers is used to proper skullduggery,¡± Jonathan told her, offering her his arm. ¡°I was going to consider a more surreptitious entrance, but I expect you have a way in already?¡±

    ¡°Of course I do,¡± Eleanor scoffed, laying her hand on his arm and adjusting her cloche hat so she presented the proper and refined image. ¡°You¡¯re lucky I saw you first, or else you¡¯d have broken in for no reason.¡±

    ¡°No doubt,¡± Jonathan said with amusement, tipping his hat to the clerk as they emerged back onto the cobbles. They stood for a moment as a reckless driver drove a zint carriage past at a too-fast speed, the wheels beating a manic rhythm on the flagstones, then crossed to the far side of the street. Eleanor directed him into a nearby alley and down an areaway, where the gas light of the streets was cut off and the only illumination was the dim reflection from off-white walls.

    She pushed open a door that Jonathan could have sworn was locked, and they were met with the bitter scent of rot and mold from an uncleaned basement, a pitch-black room of stacked crates and cluttered shelves. Eleanor had no problem with the darkness and neither did he, the two of them sliding through the cramped room in their own particular ways to where light leaked under a crack from the interior door. Jonathan turned the knob, and Eleanor went first, pointing up the stairwell.

    ¡°Third floor,¡± she said, and Jonathan nodded acknowledgement. The amount of scouting she¡¯d done in the brief time she¡¯d had was certainly impressive. His cane struck the stone stairs with the ominous finality of a closing coffin lid as they ascended, catching only glimpses of other tenants renting out the rooms. Despite the state of the basement, the boardinghouse seemed of fair quality, with rugs and dark-stained myceliplank paneling covering the off-white stone. Gas lamps flickered in sconces, sending shadows dancing against the walls as they climbed.

    As befit a merchant boardinghouse, the centerpiece of each floor was a combination of study and office, where work could be done by those whose lives revolved around the exchange of coin. On the third floor, Jonathan could almost smell his maps, and he didn¡¯t need Eleanor¡¯s guidance to make a straight line to the closed door of the study. He flung it open with a bang, making the man inside jump and spill ink across the table that separated him from the door.

    ¡°Mister Harrington,¡± Jonathan said, as Eleanor slid into the room behind him. ¡°I believe you have something of mine.¡± Harrington, if that was indeed his name, looking vaguely familiar. A pencil-necked, bespectacled fellow that seemed of the same breed that had pestered him before, back in Beacon. The sons and cousins of the real explorers, who thought they knew the truth without ever seeing it for themselves.

    Harrington scooped up the maps, which despite being enciphered still drew the eye with dread import. Even when written in code, certain symbols held too much significance to be truly rendered safe. The heavy paper they were scribed on curled of its own accord, rolling into cylinders that Harrington gripped tightly as he narrowed his eyes at Jonathan.

    ¡°You,¡± he said darkly, which struck Jonathan as a particularly useless reply.

    ¡°My charts, Mister Harrington,¡± Jonathan said, taking a few steps forward and holding out his hand. Harrington jumped back, holding the maps threateningly out to the lit fireplace.

    ¡°Don¡¯t come any closer,¡± Harrington warned.

    ¡°So those are, in fact, your maps?¡± Eleanor asked idly.

    ¡°They are,¡± Jonathan confirmed, gauging the distance from where he stood to where Harrington threatened the precious documents.

    ¡°Then hold onto them this time,¡± Eleanor told him, offering him the bundle of rolled papers, still warm from the fireplace. Jonathan took them gravely, and Harrington gawked down at his empty hands, unable to grasp how Eleanor had taken them.

    ¡°As for you¡­¡± Eleanor began, withdrawing a long dagger from where it was hidden inside her dress. Jonathan reached out with his cane to bar her path before she could do anything precipitous.

    ¡°A moment, Eleanor,¡± Jonathan said. ¡°I think that first we should understand exactly who it is Mister Harrington represents and why.¡± Harrington straightened himself up, summoning a backbone and regarding the pair of them. Jonathan favored him with a humorless smile. ¡°Perhaps he will be of use taking a message to his masters. The Society of Explorers, I believe?¡±

    ¡°You certainly know who I am,¡± Harrington said with dignity. ¡°I very much doubt you have anything to say to me. Not after you ignored our warnings!¡±

    ¡°Nobody is going to stop me from finding sunlight,¡± Jonathan said, voice flat and eyes suddenly blazing. Harrison snorted.

    ¡°You can keep your fairy tale,¡± he said dismissively. ¡°But it¡¯s far too dangerous to venture out into the savage east. The things out there don¡¯t need to know about us, about our kingdom. You don¡¯t need to bring them down upon us.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± Jonathan said in disbelief. ¡°All that because you¡¯re scared of a few savage tribes? I¡¯m sure that¡¯s what your masters told you.¡± Jonathan looked at Eleanor. ¡°Shall I handle this?¡±

    ¡°Be my guest,¡± she said, tucking her dagger away and making herself obviously bored with the whole proceedings.

    ¡°You, Mister Harrington, will be carrying a message back to Beacon for me,¡± Jonathan said coldly, holding the man¡¯s eyes. Harrington whimpered, unable to look away or even blink, his eyelids scorched from the force of Jonathan¡¯s displeasure. ¡°I don¡¯t care how frightened the Society is. They¡¯re petty and irrelevant cowards, quailing from the dark. I know what¡¯s out there and how little humanity matters to any of it. If any of your agents cross my path again, I will destroy them. Whoever it is, whatever their rank or role. I will not suffer anyone barring my way to sunlight.¡±

    Jonathan became aware he had advanced another few steps as he spoke, stopped only by the table; Harrington himself was nearly in the fire, clothes smoldering and glassy-eyed in panic. He snorted in disgust and turned away. Eleanor followed, and he only stopped for a moment on the stairs to rearrange the maps more properly. Then they swept out onto the street, past the toughs who lacked the wit to worry about someone leaving the boardinghouse.

    ¡°You know, you can be a little scary when you¡¯re mad,¡± Eleanor said eventually. ¡°I thought he was going to catch fire on the spot there.¡±

    ¡°He shouldn¡¯t have stolen from me,¡± Jonathan said shortly. Eleanor chuckled.

    The return to the Endeavor was entirely free of any drama, discounting the standard jolting and cursing of a driver navigating a busy city¡¯s streets. Back aboard, Jonathan placed the maps in a more discreet location in his cabin, cognizant of how simple it was to access his safe. Most security was the theatre of it regardless, and anyone who was truly determined could get through any obvious lock. Soon enough the maps would be brought out and used, but once that was the case they would have no dock or port where some enterprising thief or saboteur could enter.

    ¡°You could use the ship¡¯s safe,¡± Montgomery grunted, leaning against the jamb of the door to Jonathan¡¯s cabin. ¡°Or my quarters, if you want to.¡±

    ¡°Not yet, thank you,¡± Jonathan demurred. ¡°It¡¯s not that I distrust you, but it is a responsibility I am not yet ready to hand off.¡± He was also far more certain of his ability to repel any force or someone with more esoteric talents than Montgomery¡¯s crew. When Antomine returned, Jonathan briefly emerged to give the inquisitor a suitably edited account of the incident, if for no other reason than to allow Antomine to decide how to field any official complaints.

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°I wish I could say I was surprised, but Autochthon Reach seems to be under the sway of more temporal concerns than the Illuminated King and the Inquisition,¡± Antomine said, his voice hard. ¡°I am not certain I can even trust them to properly treat the criminals I gave them.¡±

    ¡°Best to suggest to the captain to prepare to leave as soon as may be. If there¡¯s trouble brewing here, we want no part of it.¡± Jonathan knew there would be trouble, from Andr¨¦ if nobody else, but he wouldn¡¯t admit that to an inquisitor. Antomine gave him a sour look but nodded and went to update Montgomery. Jonathan stayed in his room, going over his notebooks until late in the night.

    A pounding on his cabin door woke him, and he rolled out of bed and glanced at the clock. The hour was an early one by Beacon reckoning and, while no city or even ship ever truly slept, anything stirring at such a time was like as not an emergency. When he opened the door a few seconds later, his suit pristine as usual, the youthful airman waiting there surrendered an envelope into Jonathan¡¯s hands and disappeared without explanation.

    The seal on the envelope was Andr¨¦¡¯s, and Jonathan opened it with a scowl, skimming through the terse words inked on the thick paper. Then he sighed, dressed, and went to find Captain Montgomery. The situation was not quite an emergency yet, but did call for prompt action.

    ¡°I am aware it is an inconvenience,¡± Jonathan told Montgomery as the latter downed a hasty breakfast. ¡°But we need to leave immediately. It may be coincidence or it may be aimed at us, but the Baron will be commandeering all ships to deal with a Rising.¡± It was true that sometimes things came from the Reach, and perhaps there was someone who could read the signs and know ahead of time, or it was simply engineered to tie up ships and men. An unacceptable delay regardless.

    ¡°Seems a bit cowardly,¡± Montgomery said, but he didn¡¯t specify whether he meant running away or commandeering ships to deal with the local wildlife. ¡°I¡¯d prefer not to, but if you¡¯re certain, I can take steps.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m certain,¡± Jonathan said. He could leave the captain to send runners and expedite or cancel shipments of supplies and all the other thousand and one details of making a ship ready for departure. ¡°We¡¯ll make do at Danby¡¯s.¡±

    ¡°So long as we do find crew there,¡± Montgomery said, giving Jonathan a sour look. ¡°You¡¯re paying for it all, but it¡¯s just not safe without enough people and supplies.¡±

    ¡°You are quite right, Captain,¡± Jonathan said. ¡°And it goes against the grain to cede ground to these people, but our business is elsewhere, and this local trouble only delays us.¡±

    ¡°Then I have a lot of work to do,¡± Montgomery said, dropping his fork on his tin plate and standing. ¡°Excuse me, Mister Heights.¡±

    It took several painfully long hours before Montgomery had them ready to go. The ship¡¯s whistle sang over the speaking-tubes as the mooring lines dropped and the Endeavor powered away from Autochthon Reach, most of the passengers gathered in the observation room to see the city slide away. Even Marie was there, sporting a number of bandages under new maid garments. Given the deadline Jonathan had set initially, he knew that was practically a miracle, yet it was barely enough.

    Only minutes after they had slid away, the sound of bells came faintly through the air, and the yellow gas-fire of the lighthouse turned a smeared crimson. Antomine regarded the sight with his hands laced behind his back, and looked at Jonathan with a frown.

    ¡°We should help,¡± Antomine said.

    ¡°Certainly not,¡± Jonathan disagreed. ¡°It¡¯s why we left early. Even if it is a true emergency, the Endeavor is not heavily armed enough to make an impact.¡±

    ¡°Whether it is genuine or not, someone should be asking sharp questions about how and who had foreknowledge.¡± Antomine said, unable to restrain the Inquisitor¡¯s impulse. Jonathan shook his head and didn¡¯t bother arguing.

    They left the possibly-besieged city behind, and Jonathan put it out of his mind. It would only matter on the Endeavor¡¯s return, and that was hardly relevant. He was confident that Danby¡¯s Point would have everything they needed, despite its distance from Beacon. The easternmost point of human civilization might have been a small outpost once, but when he¡¯d last visited it had grown far beyond those humble beginnings.

    He spent the few days of travel educating his companions so they would, at least, not bring disaster down upon their heads by way of simple ignorance. Jonathan intended to take command in any emergency or foreign encounter, but there were some rules they should all know. Certain hazards were hazards to all.

    Danby¡¯s Point was the end of the line, the illuminated track reaching its easternmost terminus at the base of a tall, zint-illuminated tower built into a solid face of bruised-purple rock. The blue-white light of human civilization sprawled along one side of a plateau, coming to the summit where zint competed with bruised purple and faint brown-orange; the lights of other races. Those strange and savage types met with humans at this one point, where the Inquisition was both at its strongest and its weakest. They bowed to the inevitability of trade on one hand, while trying to keep the contact contained and restrained on the other.

    The shades and shapes revealed under the alien illumination both drew and repelled the eye, with colors that had no name or purpose in human lands and monoliths that formed strange angles repugnant to human sensibilities. The aberrant architecture crowded oppressively in on the straight and proud lines of familiar constructions, blurring the boundary and twisting the familiar into something objectionable. Jonathan couldn¡¯t say whether the human presence on the plateau had gained or lost ground since he had last been there, but it was an ongoing and intense battle that involved violence not at all.

    ¡°That¡¯s just not right,¡± Eleanor said, watching as the hostile construction of Danby¡¯s Point drew closer. Antomine said nothing, his lips pursed in disapproval.

    ¡°The trinkets they bring back to Beacon are but the safest and tamest of what the Illuminated King allows,¡± Jonathan said, and Antomine sighed.

    ¡°It is true,¡± the young man conceded, as if it the words physically hurt. ¡°There are some useful things that we have yet to be able to duplicate. Knowledge of movements in the dark we may have to marshal our forces to address.¡±

    Montgomery brought the ship in to the mooring towers projecting from the top of the plateau, high above the train station below. Jonathan gathered certain items from his room, packing a satchel and slinging it over his shoulder. He had been intending to venture out on his own, but both Eleanor and Antomine were waiting as he left his quarters and presented a unified front.

    ¡°What better place to introduce us to the savages?¡± Eleanor asked, her arms crossed. ¡°Unless you plan to keep us locked up in the ship the whole time, and in that case why did you bring us?¡±

    ¡°Very well,¡± Jonathan said, as he had merely been operating from habit. Few people liked to go into foreign places filled with foreign people. Those that inhabited Danby¡¯s Point were at least marginally understanding of human viewpoints, and it might do to allow his companions to become inured to the presence of the unfamiliar. ¡°We have business in the Tower, first, but beyond that ¡ª I suggest you arm yourselves.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m never not armed,¡± Eleanor said archly.

    ¡°I would think such advice obvious,¡± Antomine murmured, looking out at the unsettling illumination and twisted stone. Jonathan inclined his head, then led the way off the ship, leaving only a murmured message for Montgomery with the airman on watch. Out they went into the border settlement, the streets narrow and cramped and steep, the populace ever so slightly wild-eyed and frayed.

    There were no carriages. The journey was by foot and by lift to the warehousing district, where Jonathan inspected and signed off on the enormous number of crates to be loaded onto the Endeavor. Even at the edge of civilization, proper paperwork drove everything, though Antomine¡¯s presence as a member of the Inquisition did expedite matters.

    That task performed, Jonathan led them to the boundary, both Eleanor and Antomine looking around with curiosity and caution both. Antomine¡¯s guards, trailing behind, betrayed no emotion, but Sarah couldn¡¯t help but hunch under the weight of the unnatural aura the abhuman buildings seemed to emit. The passing humans looked strange, too long or short of limb or eye or jaw, altered by dwelling so close to the denizens of the dark.

    A great metal gate, lit by intense zint light, separated the human portion of the plateau from that claimed by darker forces, and passing under it they could see the influence was not one way. The further spires were the most twisted and hunched, while near the wall they had been pulled into straighter lines. Then there were the denizens, and Eleanor sucked in a breath at her first view of one of the nonhuman races.

    Some were damnably familiar, going about on two legs with clothes that were a subtle mockery of human finery. These were the fractured, and would never be mistaken for human from the way their features flowed and distorted from one movement to the next. A face would change expressions, eyes, jawline, or beard from each angle, or sometimes simply be a blank mask of flesh. A leg might seem to skip from one position to another without traveling the intervening space; a hand might have too many fingers or not enough, both within the span of a few seconds. The ever-changing forms were a human seen through dark waters, bewildering and nauseating to contemplate.

    By contrast, the other things, spindly many-limbed balls of black tar with unsettlingly human eyes, were less offensive. They were strange, true, and every movement carried with it an implicit threat of violence, but their very strangeness rendered the eye blind to the more disconcerting details of their existence. Such as how the smallest ones were no larger than a ship¡¯s cat like Penelope, while some few rested among the spires, much larger than any building could hold and only barely comprehensible as something living, squatting in the pale orange lights they favored.

    Both the nonhuman races claimed to be the spire-builders, but Jonathan knew better. They had been there before anyone, human, fractured, or tarfolk, had arrived at Danby¡¯s Point. Yet even the earliest records had shown every artifact removed, every sign and symbol erased by some unknowable hand.

    ¡°It¡¯s one thing to hear, but quite another to see,¡± Antomine said, eyes narrowed under his broad-brimmed hat.

    ¡°Take care not to insult our hosts,¡± Jonathan said, pointing the way down an irregular street where certain banners with a spiral design hung from above spire doors. ¡°I doubt they would be so unwise as to attack us, but they may not be willing to trade.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Antomine agreed, and Eleanor just shook her head, posture no longer relaxed as she took in the strange forms that surrounded them. They did not have far to go, as even Jonathan would not dare to travel too deep into the spires of Danby¡¯s point, merely to the spiral-marked doors that led along crooked hallways to an interior courtyard lit with indigo. Some few humans stood among the fractured there, with no tarfolk in evidence.

    ¡°Jonathan!¡± The voice was sweet and husky and sounded like a noble lady, which made its source even more disturbing as a female fractured made her inconstant way to their group. While she was a beautiful woman, every angle and motion made her a different beautiful woman ¡ª except for those times when there was a glimpse of a monstrous form. ¡°What are you doing back here? I thought you had gone on your last expedition.¡±

    ¡°So had I,¡± Jonathan admitted, removing his hat and offering her a bow. ¡°But I found something worth pursuing.¡±

    ¡°And who are your friends?¡± The fractured turned to their group, eyeing Eleanor and Antomine specifically, several variations of a smile sliding across her face. ¡°Oh, this one is cute,¡± she said, taking a step toward Antomine, and his stony expression showed the iron self-control he exercised to keep from stepping away.

    ¡°Tiuni, please do not try to seduce a member of the Inquisition,¡± Jonathan said with as much patience as he could muster.

    ¡°You¡¯re no fun,¡± Tiuni accused him, and tilted her head at Eleanor. ¡°What about this one?¡±

    Eleanor was too shocked at being propositioned to even speak.

    ¡°We¡¯re here on business, Tiuni,¡± Jonathan said gently, hefting his satchel. ¡°The same as last time.¡±

    ¡°You never bring anything for me to play with,¡± Tiuni accused him, and despite the light tone the very thought made Jonathan¡¯s skin crawl.

    ¡°I always bring something worthwhile, do I not?¡± Jonathan asked.

    ¡°I suppose,¡± Tiuni said, the pout in her voice obvious even if the face had a dozen different expressions as she looked between them. ¡°Come on, then.¡± She sauntered off through the courtyard, other fractured and the few humans making way, and Jonathan followed after.

    ¡°Do we really need to deal with her?¡± Eleanor asked in a low tone, enough that Jonathan could barely hear it.

    ¡°It¡¯s that or risk flying into hostile airspace,¡± Jonathan murmured back. Eleanor wrinkled her nose.

    They slipped through an entrance made of unwholesome angles, the door clearly shaped wrong to the frame and yet fitting smooth and flush as it closed behind them. The room beyond was large enough for Jonathan¡¯s entire entourage to crowd into, though it was built for forms less certain than their own. A long table dominated the center, and mementos of human artifice dotted the walls. Tiuni flickered to the end of the table and beckoned for the humans to sit in the twisted seats, but only Jonathan took her offer. Not that he blamed the others.

    ¡°I assume you have the information,¡± Jonathan said, withdrawing one of his maps from his satchel and spreading it on the table.

    ¡°I do,¡± Tiuni said primly. ¡°Do you have the payment?¡±

    ¡°Certainly,¡± Jonathan said, and began taking the other items out of his satchel. Several books, small framed paintings, the menus from several taverns and restaurants. Tiuni eagerly snatched up one of the books, opening it and leafing through the pages.

    ¡°Is that¡­¡± Eleanor squinted at the cover. ¡°Lady Grim¡¯s Memoirs? The bodice-ripper?¡± She asked, baffled.

    ¡°There is a certain market for human literature,¡± Jonathan replied. He didn¡¯t know what the fractured thought of human romance, but Tiuni had always been eager to take the more salacious volumes.

    ¡°I¡¯ll accept these,¡± Tiuni said, fingers flicking in and out of existence as she dropped the book on the table. ¡°Your information, then,¡± she continued, and turned to the map. Jonathan had copied out an uncyphered version, and the diagrams describing the lands beyond Danby¡¯s Point were clear, if often painful to the eyes.

    ¡°The third house has ascended among the Thrantin, and their caravans have shifted here, here, and here.¡± Tiuni began to rattle off the movements and locations of forces and beasts from the savage lands to the east, where the Verdant Expanse grew and shifted like a changing tide, and ruins of ancient forces much like the twisted spires squatted.

    None of it was beyond expectations, and as Jonathan made notes the potential routes narrowed. Tiuni was always his final stop before any venture beyond human lands, even if he wasn¡¯t heading east. He had no idea how the fractured gathered all her information, but he¡¯d found it all to be invaluable.

    ¡°That was a lie,¡± Antomine abruptly said, and Jonathan¡¯s fingers halted just before he wrote the latest notation on the maps, closing off some of the better routes thanks to the Wandering Slough. Jonathan lifted his gaze from his map to look at Antomine, then at Tiuni.

    ¡°I have no idea what you mean,¡± Tiuni said, her voice suddenly dangerous and her features spinning through a dozen different expressions of disapproval. In response, Antomine stepped forward, white pupils glowing with a light very much like zint. It drowned out the dull indigo lamps on the walls and froze Tiuni into a single, ill-wrought form.

    ¡°You¡¯ve never tried to deceive me before,¡± Jonathan said, not commenting on Antomine¡¯s display, nor doubting his statement.

    ¡°I¡¯m not¡ª¡± Tiuni started, but hissed at Antomine, a sound not made by a human mouth. ¡°What are you?¡± She demanded.

    ¡°Why did you lie?¡± Antomine asked in return. Jonathan quietly rolled up the map, as it was clear the frank exchange of information was at an end. While he had not known Antomine as long as Tiuni and had no real reason to trust the man, it would never do to forget Tiuni was not human. She was, ultimately, not on his side.

    ¡°Hmph.¡± Tiuni drew herself up, not incidentally stepping away from Antomine. ¡°He returned from the farthest east. That is not something people do, and it would be better if it did not happen again. The secrets there should not be disturbed.¡±

    ¡°What do you know about sunlight?¡± Jonathan demanded, instantly alert. She had never shown any knowledge or even reaction about the topic before, but clearly things had changed.

    ¡°That myth?¡± Tiuni said derisively, continuing to step back until Eleanor appeared behind her with dagger at the ready. ¡°It is the ancient things you might lead back here.¡±

    ¡°Then we are done here,¡± Jonathan said, putting the map in his satchel. He eyed the rest of the payment on the table, but didn¡¯t bother retrieving it. It didn¡¯t have any value outside of Danby¡¯s Point anyway. ¡°We have enough to go on.¡±

    ¡°What do I do with her?¡± Eleanor said, not quite touching Tiuni. Jonathan regarded the fractured that had been his source of information for years, and his father¡¯s before him.

    ¡°Remove her,¡± he decided. ¡°I¡¯d rather she not turn the fractured against us.¡±

    Before Tiuni could say a word, the dagger punched through the back of her neck. Despite the alien nature of the fractured, quicksilver blood poured forth and she dropped to the floor. Neither Antomine nor his guards flinched as Antomine let his illumination dim, likely not even caring about any nonhuman. Only Sarah asked a question.

    ¡°Won¡¯t they be upset when they find out?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s always a risk when humans and nonhumans deal,¡± Jonathan said. ¡°We won¡¯t be back, and they won¡¯t dare the human portion even if they know who we are. That said¡ª¡± He glanced at the still-shifting body on the floor. ¡°We should not linger. Let us retire to the Endeavor.¡±

 Chapter Eight

    The bridge of the ship was crowded as Jonathan spread one of his maps over the far wall. Captain, crew, and passengers all looked at the large roll of paper, some portions of which seemed to be disconnected from the rest, and others had notations that seemed to twist and writhe under scrutiny, yet were merely ink. Other notations made no sense, mountain ranges and rivers and ruins jumbled haphazardly and in opposition to their labels.

    ¡°The ultimate goal for this leg of the journey is the Crimson Caldera,¡± Jonathan told his audience, tapping one of the disconnected portions of the map. ¡°That is the gateway to the truly deep East, as every other path is either guarded or simply impassable. But to even reach there requires a specific path from somewhat changeable landmarks, and things will be made far easier if we scavenge certain materials along the way.¡±

    ¡°We couldn¡¯t just bring these things?¡± Montgomery said, a trifle disgruntled. ¡°We had the time to find them, that¡¯s for sure.¡±

    ¡°Unfortunately, the things I have in mind only exist out there,¡± Jonathan admitted. ¡°I had picked up more than needed the last expedition, but I was forced to return on foot.¡±

    ¡°And we¡¯re not running the risks of all getting killed, like your last expedition?¡± Eleanor asked archly, and Jonathan turned a hard gaze to her. She matched it for a moment, then slowly wilted.

    ¡°I certainly have learned what not to do,¡± Jonathan admitted at length. ¡°The crew of the Discovery woke something they should not have. The ship itself is still out there, bar whatever depredations that time and weather may have visited upon it.¡±

    ¡°That is a risk, out here,¡± Montgomery noted. ¡°More so to the south or east, but anywhere that¡¯s not zint-lit, you might have problems.¡± He didn¡¯t ask for the lurid details. Eleanor clearly wanted to, but Jonathan moved on before she could. There were certain things he had no wish to reveal, and while he wasn¡¯t above untruth, he preferred to eschew an outright lie.

    ¡°As soon as we leave, we¡¯ll be following the Khorus River south and east. How is it looking, Captain?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re still short a few crew,¡± Montgomery said, disgruntled. ¡°Even with your money, a lot of people just aren¡¯t interested in going east.¡±

    ¡°I can always requisition someone from the Inquisition office,¡± Antomine said, and Montgomery winced.

    ¡°I need experienced airmen,¡± he said. ¡°Not just warm bodies, begging your pardon Mister Antomine. There¡¯s ships coming and going here with all kinds of fortunes, so it shouldn¡¯t be impossible to find someone willing to sign on.¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Jonathan said. ¡°We will be encountering all sorts of weather and we¡¯ll have to acquire food and supplies as we go. Better we take those who understand that reality.¡± The lack of interested crew irked him, as he¡¯d never really had issues with that resource. He had a suspicion that the Society of Explorers had managed to poison people against him, but unless he could find the source there was little he could do about it, so he disbanded the meeting soon after.

    What he could do was check the cargo, to make sure there had been no tampering since Antomine had brought it to the Inquisition¡¯s attention. The materials Eleanor had stolen for him were mostly up in his room, but there was an enormous amount of equipment being loaded. A portable luminiferous terrestrite distillation apparatus, lifting gas separator, water siphons and filters, portable searchlights and crew-served zint guns. Even more food and water, spare parts, raw materials. Clothing, bedding, supplies of soap and toiletries. Loading it at Danby¡¯s was far cheaper than trying to store it all in Beacon, and made getting to Danby¡¯s in the first place much quicker.

    With all the weight, the Endeavor would be significantly less agile and the engines would use more zint to get them where they were going. It would be far longer than a few days between stops going forward, and those stops wouldn¡¯t be cities where the sailors could get out and enjoy themselves, where there was news and food and drink. Not everyone who dwelled in the cities could handle it, which was why Antomine¡¯s suggestion was untenable.

    Some of the cases had shown clear signs of being opened, mostly those with fire dust and unflame, and there was some minor pilfering here and there. It was mostly unmolested however, and while Jonathan considered mentioning the issue to Antomine he eventually decided against it ¡ª he didn¡¯t want any possible investigation that might delay their departure. He had been uncommonly patient before, forced to endure a litany of trifling delays and petty distractions as he waited for the Endeavor to be ready. Now at last they were on their way, and so Jonathan was unwilling to suffer any further obstacles on his path to sunlight. It waited in the east, casting everything else into irrelevant shadows.

    With departure so close, he could not countenance unwanted attention. He still didn¡¯t know what rank and role Antomine held in the Inquisition, but he knew the organization was no more immune to factionalism and corruption than any other. So far from Beacon, it was difficult to know how much authority Antomine truly held, and that was the sort of bureaucratic wrangling that could go on for days or even weeks.

    Jonathan prowled the decks as the clock wound through one day, and then another, frustrated by the delays. He was not tempted to try and force Montgomery¡¯s hand and leave, nor to try and scour the streets for candidates himself, but a restless energy drove him to pace the airship. Cramped confines usually bothered him little, but for once he felt hemmed in by the walls of the ship. He kept returning to the observation room, looking to the east where sunlight lay.

    Finally, Montgomery secured the last few crew and the departure whistle sounded. The Endeavor drifted away from the mooring towers and the engines lit, driving it along the side of the plateau and away from the lights of civilization. Soon enough it was only the Endeavor¡¯s powerful spotlights that showed anything at all.

    ¡°That¡¯s dark,¡± Eleanor said, looking out the big glass windows of the observation room and puffing a cigarette through a long-handled holder. The windows might well have been black walls, but for the faint circles where the Endeavor¡¯s illumination showed the turgid green waters of Khorus River. There weren¡¯t even any sheltershrooms to dot the landscape.

    ¡°That is the nature of the world,¡± Antomine observed. ¡°It is only the light of civilization that renders it habitable. The rest is dark savagery, and things better left untouched.¡±

    ¡°The Inquisition is so dramatic,¡± Eleanor said. ¡°It just doesn¡¯t have light. You¡¯ve been out there,¡± she said, pointing her cigarette holder at Jonathan. ¡°So, the fractured were creepy and all, but is it all like that?¡±

    ¡°To some extent or another,¡± Jonathan said, shaking his head at her. ¡°There are some lone islands of wonder, but most of it is not fit for man. My maps are not just for going from here to there and without some places to anchor and resupply we would have a very limited range.¡±

    ¡°Then how¡¯d you make it back on foot?¡± Eleanor asked, gesturing at the void beyond the window. ¡°If it¡¯s that hard by airship, it ought to be impossible by yourself.¡±

    ¡°Carefully,¡± Jonathan replied dryly. ¡°I would not advise it. Mostly, I earned my keep at some of the trading caravans out there ¡ª ones that aren¡¯t human, and it was only thanks to my long experience that I was able to remain in their good graces.¡± He had spent long stretches on edge, choosing every word with care, and rendering it into a tongue that was painful for the human throat.

    ¡°I guess I¡¯m surprised there aren¡¯t any humans out there,¡± Eleanor said, smoke wisping from her cigarette as she waved it in emphasis.

    ¡°There used to be, but with the trains and airships for travel all those little out-of-the-way places are harder to sustain,¡± Jonathan waved it aside. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t want to try camping in the wilderness anyway, not when you have a cabin with light and heat and a proper kitchen. Believe me, it is uncomfortable.¡±

    ¡°It might be an enjoyable diversion for a day or so,¡± Antomine said, half-disagreeing. ¡°But for months? I prefer the airship.¡±

    ¡°Bah,¡± Eleanor said, taking a puff of her cigarette and looking away from the dark windows. ¡°Oh well. Anyone for a game of cards?¡±

    Jonathan found little interest in the games Eleanor and Antomine put on, indulging them only occasionally and finding himself compulsively drawn back to his notes. He¡¯d spent hours of time committing his travels to memory, drawing connections between hints and writings and fragments of stories from lost ruins. Yet he still found himself chewing over some of the more esoteric fragments, the records that defied understanding.

    That restlessness was banished when finally, after a full week of following the water, the sharp corners and rounded domes of Tor Ilek loomed suddenly in the Endeavor¡¯s lights. The ancient, crumbling ruin squatted over the Khorus River, the green waters passing under innumerable rotted bridges and around tumbled arches. The deathly city pulled something vital from the river, leeching color with every mile until it came out pale and ghostly white at the other end. Rust streaked the dark stone where metal skeletons of long-demolished towers and spires curled ghoulishly up from the ruined city.

    ¡°Pardon me,¡± Jonathan said, excusing himself from the observation room where his fellow travelers looked down at the city¡¯s corpse through the great glass windows. ¡°I need to show Montgomery where to tether.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re going down there?¡± Eleanor said, raising her eyebrows. ¡°It looks incredible, don¡¯t get me wrong, but what could be intact?¡±

    ¡°Yes, we¡¯re going down there,¡± Jonathan told her, and looked from her to Antomine. ¡°Bring your guns. It¡¯s dangerous, but you should probably come along.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t miss it!¡± Eleanor said, hopping to her feet.

    ¡°It does sound interesting,¡± Antomine agreed, laying his cards down on the table.

    Jonathan left them and descended to the bridge, waiting to be invited in and walking to the front. Spotlights played as one of the bridge crew adjusted them, sending the circles of illumination left and right. Occasionally shapes moved under the light, darting this way and that back into the darkness, but Jonathan focused on the landmarks of Tor Ilek, lips pressed tight as he waited to see some familiar shape.

    ¡°There!¡± He pointed to one particular knurled dome, where broken iron buttresses protruded like twisted and rotted teeth. ¡°Tether to the southern spikes, we have a way in there.¡±

    ¡°Got it,¡± Montgomery said, and gave the orders. The ship shook and swayed as the engines brought it around, pushing against the wind and inertia to move onto a new heading. The city rose up to meet them as the envelope compressed and the ship dropped. Jonathan braced himself with his cane, the airmen keeping their feet with the ease of long experience while they drew near a hook-like metal remnant protruding from the twisted and corrupted stone of the dome.

    The spotlights focused on the hook, two airmen in flight suits emerging into view carrying the initial tethers as they dropped down to the metal projection. They quickly lashed the chains into place and then returned to the ship for the sturdier, but more unwieldy sets to keep the ship anchored in anything other than a gentle breeze. Jonathan had eyes for more than just the anchor chain, and suddenly pointed at some movement in the shadows at the edge of the spotlights.

    ¡°Captain, the guns there if you would.¡±

    ¡°Aye, I see it,¡± Montgomery said in a hard voice, and snapped a few more orders. A moment later, the forward zint-cannons fired, flares of deadly light that sent uncertain forms scattering and fleeing away from the metal spine. The stone itself shrugged off the artillery, no more affected by zint than it would have been by water or air. Even if it looked to be on the verge of falling apart, the city might well outlast Beacon.

    ¡°We will need seven or eight men with sword and guns, just to be safe,¡± Jonathan said as the tethers took the slack and airmen started fixing the descent lines in place. ¡°Most things here won¡¯t venture into the light, but I suggest keeping someone on the cannon just to be certain nothing cuts our tethers.¡±

    ¡°Be something rather large to cut through six inches of steel chain, but I take your point,¡± Montgomery said. ¡°How long do you expect this excursion to take?¡±

    ¡°Several hours, but no more than that,¡± Jonathan replied, turning toward the door. ¡°There¡¯s no people here, just things. All we need do is reach a particular chamber and return.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll hold you to that,¡± Montgomery said, and Jonathan departed to make his own preparations. He needed weapons of a different kind than a zint gun to deal with what was inside, but in truth his fellow passengers would fill in for a number of methods he had used in the past. Still, he needed to pack several items into a case ¡ª a hooded lantern, several lengths of heavy gauge wire, and pliers and clamps to work the latter.

    Not wishing to be an actual fool, he made sure to arm himself appropriately, cane-sword cleaned and polished and a zint-rifle over one shoulder. He met the rest of the excursion on the bottom deck, where the descent line had been rigged. Eleanor had both of her maids, Marie having recovered sufficiently thanks to certain medications retrieved in Autochthon Reach, and Antomine¡¯s guards stood at his back. The airmen that Montgomery had assigned to guard him all had rifles and belt lanterns, all of them coarse and brawny and showing the weight of many years in the air.

    Down they went, one by one, taking the descent line as it hummed through the pulleys. Jonathan gripped onto one of the rings with one hand, his foot wedged in another, watching the metal and dark stone when it was his turn and stepping off onto the uneven surface of the dome. He adjusted his suit as he waited for the rest of the party, glad for the heavy coat in the cold air coming off the river, and turned his eye toward the railing only faintly visible outside the circle of the Endeavor¡¯s spotlights.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°John and James can lead the way,¡± Antomine said, volunteering his guards, and Jonathan pointed the way with his cane.

    ¡°There¡¯s a railing over there; we¡¯re going to follow it to the right until we reach stairs. Once we¡¯re down into the dome itself, be alert for anything that might be living there.¡± Jonathan surveyed the party with narrowed eyes. ¡°The light should scare most of it off, but don¡¯t be afraid to use your weapons.¡± He waved his cane, and the armored guards made their way forward. Everyone followed after, cautious of their footing on the sloped dome.

    The stairs were not proportioned for human feet, oddly long and slanted, worn with parallel grooves of such a shape as to imply ages of strange traffic. The narrow stairwell led downward to a door so seamlessly flush with its surroundings as to appear to be one piece, with only a bent protruding handle to indicate its existence. John ¨C or perhaps it was James ¨C reached out to take the handle and pulled.

    Without a sound, a segment of weathered and pitted stone emerged from the equally weathered and pitted surroundings, sliding out and then to the side on clever hidden mechanisms. Jonathan had left the door open at the end of his last visit, and either another mechanism or, more disturbing, some person had closed it. Belt-lanterns and head-lamps showed more staircase, winding down the interior wall of the ancient dome.

    They descended in silence, the only sound that of boots on stone, apertures cut into the stairwell momentarily allowing illumination into long-deserted halls and rooms. There was no gleam of forgotten treasure, for it had been picked over by many explorers before them ¡ª by the time Jonathan had first encountered Tor Ilek, it had been practically empty. At least, those places that could be easily found by earlier explorers.

    A skittering sound came from ahead, and James ¨C or perhaps it was John ¨C aimed and fired his zint rifle. The skittering turned into a disturbingly human-like scream, and the party came to a stop as lights played over the corpse of some long-limbed and long-jawed thing, a large-eyed creature half the size of a man. It smelled like rust, a metallic stink that made some people cover their noses as they all sidled past the holed and bleeding body in the stairwell.

    ¡°The hell is that?¡± Eleanor muttered, aiming her question anywhere and everywhere.

    ¡°There are innumerable types of creatures that dwell in the dark,¡± Antomine answered. ¡°Particularly in places like this. Why do you think all our cities have walls?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I get it,¡± Eleanor said, stepping wide to avoid the pooling blood. Jonathan followed suit, keeping his eyes and ears alert for any more things that might be stalking them, from any direction. Below the bare stone and ancient metal there were enormous caverns where the Khorus River pooled and gave rise to a thousand forms of hostile life, any of which might be prowling the city.

    They reached the base of the stairs without further incident, lights revealing a great empty expanse. Jonathan reached into his satchel for his own lantern, igniting the gas cannister inside and moving to the front of the party. The light spilled out, lost in the brighter glare of zint ¡ª save for one area.

    In a particularly eye-twisting phenomenon, the lamp illuminated a section of floor that lay within the circle cast by their ordinary lights but was somehow extra. Anyone looking could trace a whole and perfect circle at the perimeter of their vision, yet at the same time there was something more there, squeezed into that whole. The sight drew shouts and muttered comments from the airmen.

    ¡°How?¡± Antomine demanded.

    ¡°The builders of Tor Ilek measured with a circle with more than three hundred sixty degrees,¡± Jonathan explained. ¡°Any ordinary light, even zint-light, can only illuminate an ordinary sphere. It takes a specific construction to reveal what lies in the extra space.¡± He waved in the direction that hadn¡¯t seemed to exist before. ¡°We go this way.¡±

    Some of the airmen might have balked if Jonathan hadn¡¯t gone first, cane tapping against the stone, a touchstone of familiar sound. Everyone hurried after so they could keep close to the light. There was nothing special about the space, despite it being impossible by human reckoning, but it made for a strange and isolated journey as the small lantern failed to reach the far wall.

    A sudden scream interrupted them, and everyone turned to see one of the airmen being dragged backward out of the light by something enormous. Antomine was the fastest to react, his pistol thrumming as rapid-fire zint shots peppered the dark silhouette of the long-clawed beast, followed shortly by a fusillade from everyone else. Jonathan winced, considering it a miracle if any of the hastily aimed shots missed the poor airman they were trying to save, but unlimbered his own rifle to aim at the gormless eyes of the amorphous shadow that had wrapped itself around the man¡¯s ankles.

    By some stroke of fate, the barrage of zint drove the thing off, the creature taking its uncertain self off back into the darkness and leaving the airman merely with torn and bleeding shins. Jonathan waited for their escort to retrieve the man, moving cautiously in the extra space revealed by the lantern. The airman stood up, limping but relatively unharmed, and Antomine motioned for one of his guards to take the rear. Creatures could come at them from any direction ¡ª especially the ones they were still uncertain of, those extra degrees of a circle that no man could have created.

    Though they were not attacked again, the sounds of something large scraping against the stone and unsettling animal whines and whimpers from unlit corners of the room kept them on edge during the trek across several hundred feet of bare stone. Whatever furnishings or decorations the dome had once housed were long gone, and it was only once the door came into sight that there was any embellishment whatsoever. A series of intricate carvings crawled over an archway that led deeper into the city, characters in a language so long dead nobody had ever been able to translate them.

    ¡°What¡¯s that sound?¡± Someone asked, as a slow, steady rumble became audible, almost more felt than heard.

    ¡°One of the mechanisms that still works,¡± Jonathan replied, shuttering the lantern as they passed through the archway, to the relief of everyone¡¯s eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t touch anything you see moving. It¡¯s not any more dangerous than normal industrial machinery, but I assure you that is dangerous enough.¡±

    Soon, moving gears and reciprocating rods of unknown purpose became visible through rotted gratings in the sides of a series of small chambers. They didn¡¯t move smoothly, jerking and shuddering, but were surprisingly quiet for all that. Jonathan ignored it all, having satisfied his curiosity long ago, and strode on through.

    Small things skittered out of the encroaching light as they passed into the final chamber, where Jonathan stopped and gestured at a large door. A series of metal circles were embedded in the stone there, each one emblazoned with a series of symbols. They weren¡¯t moving at the moment, but they did move, he knew, and several of those symbols were hidden inside the extra degrees the builders used. Some arcane calculus drove the mechanism, the resulting geometry creating an ever-shifting lock. Normally it took days or weeks of guesswork, puzzling over half-translated symbols to understand whatever alien logic was at play, to open it.

    ¡°If you could, Eleanor,¡± he said. ¡°It opens from the inside easily enough.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I see why you brought me now,¡± she said with a laugh, and walked forward, fading out of sight as she approached the door. Everyone else crowded in, Antomine¡¯s guards facing outward toward where they¡¯d been to fend off any roaming monsters. Yet while they waited for Eleanor, nothing came from the ancient passages but the steady rumble of machinery and the occasional scuff of claws on stone, somewhere out of sight. For several long minutes nothing happened, then the door slid out of its socket in the wall, shifting noiselessly to the side to reveal Eleanor on the other side, blinking in the zint-light that showed the passage beyond.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Jonathan said, not remarking on whatever strange secrets she knew in order to walk through a locked door. ¡°We¡¯re nearly there, ladies and gentlemen. Just one more stretch and we¡¯ll have something interesting to look at.¡±

    ¡°This isn¡¯t interesting to you?¡± Antomine asked mildly, looking around at weathered stone of the ancient city.

    ¡°It is not,¡± Jonathan said. The city¡¯s only purpose was to serve as a waypoint to his true goal, and everything else was mere distraction. The others had less pointed interests however, and so he dredged up older memories of the place to explain his thoughts from then. ¡°Frustrating, perhaps ¡ª we have yet to understand exactly why and how this was made, as we don¡¯t really know what¡¯s on the other end. We will be taking a detour from where this leads, to a place whose proper access has long since vanished.¡± He waved it away, gesturing with his cane as they made their way through the corridor. ¡°There is no telling, save for what we can use it for now.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m wondering how this ancient ruin is supposed to tell you something you don¡¯t already know, considering you¡¯ve been here before,¡± Eleanor said, after Sarah prodded her with an elbow.

    ¡°Sadly, I lost a number of notes and devices on my way back to civilization,¡± Jonathan replied, voice echoing from the flat stone walls. ¡°Some things just can¡¯t be reconstructed from memory, and what I can gain here will be necessary to secure a safe harbor later on. Just one special lantern is not enough to guide an entire ship.

    ¡°There are also still relics there that have not yet been pilfered,¡± he added, after looking around at the airmen who were accompanying them and seeing most of them were not transported with joy over the idea of needing Jonathan¡¯s esoteric navigational tools. That certainly made them more interested, which was all to the good as he did not want to deal with a rebellious crew. He was already paying them, but the incentive of more always distracted people from their worries.

    ¡°Ones I will make sure are safe, of course,¡± Antomine said, tamping down some of the excitement. Jonathan didn¡¯t mind, for it transferred the crew¡¯s displeasure from him to Antomine. He wouldn¡¯t lose any sleep over that.

    The straight, flat passage was abruptly severed partway along, as if some massive hand had scooped out a section of the earth, leaving sheared walls and broken ceiling. Jonathan held up his hand to call a halt as they reached the broken section, their lamps revealing a deep pit with mangled shards of stone. The sound and smell of the river came to them from the ruptured walls, and Jonathan pointed toward the breach.

    ¡°Be very wary from here on. Beasts tend to come from the river,¡± he informed them, and then led them to one side, where the damage had gouged a narrow ravine and connected pieces of underground architecture. He knew the path now, but his father¡¯s notes had spoken of months of harrowing exploration just to plumb the limits of what could be found in the ruins ¡ª and other doors that couldn¡¯t be opened, no matter what methods were used.

    They had made it perhaps thirty feet past the broken intersection before the patter of many feet came from behind. A rush of small, rodent-like forms issued forth from the cracks and crevices behind them, and men shouted in surprise and alarm as they met the horde. Zint weapons sounded, but the things were so small that, as many shots landed from the rifles, still more missed. Jonathan unsheathed his sword and lunged forward, spitting one of the dark-furred, many-legged pests and flicking it back toward the mass. Nonetheless, a good many swarmed up uniforms or sank their teeth into boots.

    Eleanor and her maids made the most difference, effortlessly spitting the things on their pointed daggers, even when the pests in question had latched onto fabric or flesh. Yells and screams filled the air as needle-sharp teeth found limbs, and Jonathan found himself exerting real effort to impale or bisect the things before they gained a purchase on his own suit. Antomine and his guards made a good showing of themselves, batons pulverizing bodies as Antomine picked targets with his pistol. The pests shied away from actually touching Antomine, providing a clear circle of safety as the young man moved to protect the airmen.

    As soon as it started, it was over, the remnants of the swarm fleeing back into the cracks and leaving behind a score or so of bodies as well as a number of puncture wounds and torn uniforms. Jonathan didn¡¯t see anyone in dire need of medical attention, but such wounds could easily accumulate ¡ª and they still had to return to the surface. He pressed his lips together and motioned them onward.

    ¡°Once we reach our destination we will have some time to rest and recover,¡± he said, keeping his cane-sword unsheathed as he advanced along the defile. Remnant protrusions of rotted stone loomed suddenly from overhead, corpse-brittle fingers that threatened to descend on them with the slightest provocation. The plaintive sigh of the river grew louder, a continuous exhalation of cold breath squeezing through innumerable fissures in the walls of the ravine.

    When they broke out into a new chamber it was with a stark suddenness, a guillotine sharp edge where it punctured the ruined chamber. Lights revealed that to one side was a crumbled expanse, leading down to the faint phosphorescent glints of the river far below, while to the other was a still-intact monolith standing proud despite the dust and rubble that surrounded it. Jonathan broke the close huddle of their party to stride over to the monolith, the odd angles of its construction coffin-like and imposing.

    ¡°We can set up a defense here,¡± Jonathan said, bringing out his lantern again. The extra degrees of the monolith unfolded, revealing a passageway in a direction no mortal architecture would dare take. They all hurried through, still discomfited by the effect, and emerged into a long hall with a too-high ceiling and too-slanted walls. Rooms slanted off at intervals, the doorways gaping and hollow. At Antomine¡¯s direction, James and John took station at the entrance to defend against any creatures who could navigate the extra space and were hostile enough to assault them.

    ¡°Be wary, there might be things nesting here,¡± Jonathan warned. ¡°It was empty the last time I came, but there is no sense in taking risks. However, many of these rooms still have fragments of the past in them ¡ª now is the only time you may have to take what can be carried. This shouldn¡¯t take more than an hour or so.¡±

    ¡°Stay in pairs,¡± one of the airmen said, and the crew filtered out, accompanied by Eleanor and her maids, while Jonathan strode along the hall to the far end. In its own alcove was a pedestal upon which was a mechanism with a series of interlocking rings, some of which bore symbols like those which appeared on Jonathan¡¯s map. He set his lantern down there, exposing the circles in their full, inhuman fashion, and brought out the lengths of wire to begin his work.

    It was nothing more complex than using the mechanism as a guide to wrap his wire, creating the alien and excess circles for himself, each wire going into an armature to slowly but surely assemble a sort of compass. The strange and profane geometries between the rings and their symbols revealed, in their proper place, things that even the Lens of Fools could not. Jonathan had no idea how his father had discovered that ¡ª or if he had, and wasn¡¯t just conveying the work of older, even more storied explorers.

    Despite merely copying the work of ages past, it took time and focus, his hands not wanting to take the angles and distances that were required. Each completed ring went into a slidable armature, one locking into another, often in ways that defied human comprehension. Before, he had managed it only with long rests and brute effort; now, he had the sunlight burning inside him to drive his fingers and his mind.

    Around him, people went in and out of the doors. Some of them didn¡¯t open, and Eleanor was called upon to try and breach the stubborn defenses, while Antomine simply stood and watched Jonathan work. He had no interest in the trinkets people brought back ¡ª statues of grotesque, inhuman figures, or cunningly worked rings and spirals of dark gems and tarnished gold. His previous expedition had taken much of it, but the large sprawl of what seemed to have been living quarters or offices had so much that even a dozen greedy men couldn¡¯t transport all of it.

    It was a small fortune to the right market, and while Jonathan suspected nothing was truly dangerous, everyone duly paraded their finds past Antomine for inspection. Despite his doubts, Jonathan respected the danger, and it would be a severe inconvenience for some malevolent artifact to disable or destroy the Endeavor before he had reached his destination. The lucre was packaged into cloth sacks that had no doubt been brought along for that very purpose, and by the time Jonathan finished constructing his device, those sacks made a fairly sizeable pile.

    With the completion of the mechanism, with its rings and armatures, the surroundings seemed to stretch and relax both at once. He had no understanding of the true secrets of the circles or the device he copied, save that it carried some of the impossible geometry with it and pointed in certain directions. Its influence in the ruins was far more vague, and there seemed to be new doorways visible in the long hall, appearing from corners that hadn¡¯t previously existed. That only gave the airmen more to pilfer, and several parties went back down the hallway to retrieve what they could.

    Jonathan waited impatiently, ready to leave but understanding that some consideration had to be given to the crew¡¯s cupidity. Eleanor and Antomine argued over some detail of the loot, but were interrupted by one of the airman dashing back at speed and towing his companion, who was babbling incomprehensibly. Somewhere not too far away a long, low noise came, vibrating through the decrepit stone underfoot and making metal treasure clink. A hot breeze washed over them, overpowering the constant sigh of the river. Everyone looked to Jonathan, but he only had one thing to tell them.

    ¡°Flee.¡±

 Chapter Nine

    There was no time to be cautious. Jonathan knew not what creature the crew had disturbed, what phenomenon they had uncovered, or what difference there might be between the two. What he had was an instinct from long years of delving ancient ruins and trekking across the lightless landscape that made him gut-certain it was nothing they could fight.

    Jonathan led the retreat, pelting back along the corridor that had brought them there as furnace heat rose at their backs. The hot air went from zephyr to wind to gale, snatching at their clothing and driving them forward. In the far, unlit reaches of the ruins, there was a vast cacophony from beasts and vermin as they were stirred from their lairs; hideous cries of great and mournful things, their calls loathsome and freakish to the ear.

    Occasionally they caught a glimpse of one of the foul beasts of the decrepit city, things of stretched and spidered limbs or hulking muscle, rendered in colors both bright and dim. All of them were headed in the same direction as Jonathan and the expedition ¡ª away. Exiting the monolith, they caught the sight of something massive plunging into the distant river, the merest hint of some cruel and ghastly shape with a size rivaling that of some of the buildings.

    The dreadful unending roar behind them grew in volume, rising higher, and Jonathan risked a quick look back despite being unable to see the place they had come from. An apocalyptic glow issued forth from behind them, of a bright and hungry hue that he could not name, one that might have unmanned him were it not for the sanctity of the sunlight rooted deep within. It stalked them with the cruel playfulness of the wicked and sadistic, nipping at their heels when it could have overtaken them at any moment.

    Its distasteful savagery impelled him to further efforts, racing ahead of the group to shove open doors that had closed behind them on the way in. The ring-locked door, especially, needed a few moments to twist the large, circular handle on the interior before it slid aside, only just in time for Eleanor to squeeze through, followed by the rest of their crew. If they were to escape at all it would be with some nature of surprise, but it was clear the thing would not hesitate to consume any who might fall behind.

    Two of their number were being hauled bodily by the rest, one of them the man who had been attacked on their way in, and the other the babbling maniac who had most likely stirred the thing. If it came to it, Jonathan had no idea whether the airmen would choose to save their fellow crew, or the treasure. The ruinous regard of that luminous incalescence promised a fate beyond human imagining.

    Out they went, sprinting through halls they had cautiously walked before and stumbling up staircases. Everything shook and rumbled with the rage of the thing behind them, cracks appearing in the worn and rotting but heretofore imperishable stone. When their party emerged into the dome, they needed no lantern to find the stairs as the dreadful light cast everything into a shadowless relief ¡ª even the extra degrees of the circle. Despite their rush Jonathan took notice of heretofore unrevealed symbols and engravings in the distant roof that, under other circumstances, would have been enough to draw an expedition all on its own.

    The heat made it hard to breathe, the exhaust of some immense blast furnace billowing up behind them as they ascended the final stairwell. There were no noises but the sound of boots on stone and the panting breath of panic and a full sprint before the roar burst into the dome beneath them. The proximity of salvation, Endeavor waiting above, spurred on those who might have been flagging, and even the limping fellow pressed gamely on as boot leather began to smoke. When they burst out into the cooler air and clean zint-light of the outside, it was a blessed relief, but the shouting from the crew stationed at the descent line ¡ª the brawny one and the wiry one, whom Jonathan vaguely recognized ¡ª was panicked.

    ¡°Come on! The captain is leaving!¡± The brawny one shouted, and Jonathan scowled, sheathing his cane-sword and dashing to reach the descent line before it could be freed. He more than understood the haste; the strange radiation seemed to be spreading out and issuing from cracks and rents in the city ruins, some rising force ready to sweep them all away.

    Eleanor and Antomine piled on behind him, the former panting and puffing from the sprint while the latter seemed entirely unaffected by the exertion and threat both. Then the companions and crew, Antomine¡¯s guards scooping up the injured airmen and Eleanor¡¯s maids taking an extra share of the plunder as they grabbed onto the descent line. Pulleys worked and hauled them upward, Jonathan jumping onto the deck and rushing for the cargo, for he had a final surprise in mind to ward off the killing pounce of the unnamable thing. It was the work of a moment to pull out an amphora of unflame and return with it and, as Antomine pulled the last crewman aboard, Jonathan cast their salvation down from on high into the rising pyre.

    Clay smashed as the amphora hit the top of the dome and a dark liquid leaked out, seeming to spark black before erupting into atramentous flames. The malignant cold of the spreading dark fire suppressed the malevolent heat that had risen to caress the bottom of the ship. Someone cut the descent cables and the tether lines released of their own accord a moment later, the unflame turning the metal brittle from cold.

    The black fire and the horrific light met, touched, and embraced like old lovers. The unflame dripped down into the dome, out of sight, and the light seemed to drink the darkness, drawing it in like wine from a poisoned cup. In that moment of quiescence the deck lurched underfoot as Montgomery, having seen what was happening from the bridge, ordered engines to full and emergency ascent.

    Everyone stumbled and Jonathan was forced to brace himself with his cane as he watched the stygian conflagration and the ravenous light merge together into something all the more awful, then leap outward, racing through ancient streets and decrepit halls of antiquity. Tor Ilek was more visible than he had ever seen it, all its crumbled glory revealed by the doom some poor airman had awoken. For one terrible instant Jonathan had a fleeting glimpse of what impossible architectures that forgotten race had wrought, even as it was consumed by the loathsome child of two horrors, one from the distant south and one from far beneath.

    Even as they pulled away, the river seemed to boil, unnamable colors of light leeching into steam and seeming to reach up toward them. For a moment the gluttonous howl of ruin drowned out the thrumming zint at the engines, then slowly faded as they pulled up and way. The remains of Tor Ilek seemed to founder, the ruin surrendering to lecherous forces as the river churned over falling debris and turned it into a graveyard of rotted stone, drowned tombstones jutting from a watery necropolis.

    ¡°What the hell was that?¡± Eleanor demanded, voice taking on a shrill tone he had not previously associated with her. Jonathan couldn¡¯t properly blame her. He had the assurance of sunlight, without which he might well be shaken. Once she voiced it, others found their tongue as well, especially those who were still attending to the stricken man whose eyes stared into space and whose only words were in a language not fit for the human tongue. The tiniest reflections of that hideous light seemed to glimmer in his pupils, the remnant of an experience impossible to fathom.

    ¡°I do not know,¡± Jonathan said, flat and cold enough to stifle the questions. ¡°The darkness is full of things we have no names for and have never encountered. Every expedition comes back with records of new beasts or phenomena, and more questions than answers.¡± He pointed his cane at the still-open door where the faint, frustrated glow of Tor Ilek was dying a final death. ¡°The treasure here is not without risks.¡±

    ¡°That was more than a risk, that was a damned catastrophe,¡± one of the airmen said. Jonathan raised his brows at the man.

    ¡°We¡¯re alive, we have what we came for. Hardly catastrophic.¡± He glanced at the one true casualty and then looked to Antomine. ¡°Though I believe that this man would benefit from your professional care.¡± Jonathan suspected Antomine had more faith in the Illuminated King than in God, but even a hollow recitation of religious screed could be a comfort in the face of the abyss.

    ¡°Yes, indeed,¡± Antomine said, reverting to his more cheerful, boyish self. ¡°Think about it, men! You have a small fortune now!¡± A very small one indeed, after customs, taxes, fees, auction cuts, and other such incidentals, but still a substantial sum for anyone used to airmen¡¯s pay. ¡°I¡¯ll have Conrad back on his feet in no time.¡± He beckoned for his guards to support the stricken man, who still only spoke in that crackling, flickering language of some prehistoric fire.

    The other crew busied themselves hauling their bounty off to the canteen, and Eleanor hefted her bag before heading up the stairs. Jonathan began to follow her, one hand on his case where the instrument he had fashioned lay, but Montgomery intercepted him as they ascended to the middle deck. The phlegmatic captain didn¡¯t seem as disturbed as his crew, but the corners of his eyes were pinched with stress.

    ¡°A moment of your time, Mister Heights?¡± Montgomery asked.

    ¡°Certainly,¡± Jonathan said, equally politely, and followed Montgomery back to the captain¡¯s cabin. The weathered man set out two glass tumblers and poured something that smelled high-proof, several fingers in each glass. Silently, they both drank.

    ¡°Hell of a thing,¡± Montgomery said, putting the empty glass down. ¡°I¡¯ve been out here before but never seen anything like that. Are you expecting more of that sort of thing in the future?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s possible,¡± Jonathan said, setting the drink down after only a swallow on his part. While it was potent, it was quite good, subtle and fruity, but he¡¯d already known that Montgomery was a man of refined tastes. ¡°I didn¡¯t ¨C and don¡¯t ¨C expect anything too esoteric until we are further east, but you know as well as I there are no guarantees.¡± Montgomery grunted in acknowledgement.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to have to issue extra brandy rations for a while,¡± the captain said. ¡°What are the odds that any of your resupply places will have decent alcohol?¡±

    ¡°Better than average,¡± Jonathan said, swirling the drink in his class in consideration. ¡°We¡¯re headed across the Verdant Expanse next, and it is flush with distillables. Even if we can¡¯t find the caravans I¡¯m looking for, we¡¯ll be able to stop and forage. I¡¯m sure you have the equipment here on board and fresh fruit and produce might do as much for morale as the liquor.¡±

    ¡°It might, at that,¡± Montgomery admitted, obviously contemplating the relative luxury of fresh food of any sort, let alone the exotic offerings of the Verdant Expanse. Such choice victuals were rarely on offer for airmen, or even lesser nobles for that matter. Not that the Expanse would yield its merchandise without effort. ¡°I¡¯ll let the crew know.¡±

    ¡°I appreciate it, Captain,¡± Jonathan said, and did genuinely recognize the value of Montgomery¡¯s even hand. Instead of bawling out Jonathan in front of the crew ¨C or at all ¨C and creating a situation nobody wanted, the issues were resolved calmly and without a fuss. Far better than other captains he had traveled with.

    ¡°It might also help if the crew were to know the fruits of the expedition ¡ª above and beyond what treasure they found, of course.¡± Jonathan said as he withdrew the alien navigational implement he had fashioned from his case, placing it between them. Even if he could copy it, the actual principles were beyond him save for how it was used. ¡°Lock two of the symbols in place, and the center ring will point at the third.¡±

    He demonstrated, sliding the rings through the articulations and latching each of them in place. The center ring with its own map symbol pointed off east and toward the north, and Jonathan rotated the apparatus, then slid it from side to side on the table. The direction never changed no matter what he did, but it did not physically move. Rather, it was like how a painting¡¯s eyes could follow the observer; an entirely perceptual trick.

    ¡°Now that¡¯s handy,¡± Montgomery said, picking up to look at it more closely and trying to puzzle out the mechanism. Jonathan wished him luck.

    ¡°I can convey more of what I know to your navigator at your leisure,¡± Jonathan told him, having no need to keep the device for himself. ¡°The device is only accurate for a very few places, however, and should not be relied on for any other reason.¡±

    ¡°Understood,¡± Montgomery grunted, no stranger to the occult nature of many artifacts that worked inhuman logic and reason. ¡°I¡¯ll set our course for the Verdant Expanse, then. Haven¡¯t been there for a while, but I have been there.¡±

    ¡°Then I shall leave you to it,¡± Jonathan said, finishing the remainder of the liquor in his glass and standing. ¡°Once we are there, I will of course consult more closely.¡±

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    ¡°Certainly.¡± Montgomery stood politely to see Jonathan out, before returning to the bridge.

    In the following days, as the Endeavor drove eastward toward the Verdant Expanse, Jonathan found himself as the unofficial appraiser for the acquisitions from Tor Ilek. Normally there was a separation between passengers and crew, and for more reasons than just class and background, but Eleanor¡¯s acquisitive interest in the loot drove her to consult him. Very soon he found middle-deck crew at his door, hoping that he would tell them they had found something incredible.

    A younger version of himself would have been far more interested in the jewelry and gewgaws that people had picked up, but now he had only an intellectual curiosity. Compared to the reality that was sunlight it was merely detritus of a vanished past, but it was at least something to occupy time. Even at the Endeavor¡¯s top speed and with cooperative weather, the Verdant Expanse was still some distance away.

    Amusingly enough, the airmen had made no discernment about what they took, only that it looked portable and even slightly interesting. That led to, among adornments made of gold, silver, carisium, or even stranger metals, there were ordinary forks and knives and spoons. Admittedly ones proportioned for something other than human, but they were still recognizable.

    Other things were less familiar: fragments of statues with features that corresponded to no biology Jonathan could imagine, even with all his experience. Scraps of a material that looked like wood, felt like stone to the touch, and rang like metal when tapped with a hammer. Tiny crystalline cubes that seemed to move, just slightly, whenever nobody was watching them.

    Someone had brought furniture somehow, which he had missed in the frantic flight. It was a low stool made of the same worn-but-imperishable stone as Tor Ilek that seemed to slope unevenly no matter how many shims were used to try and level it. Even with Jonathan¡¯s lantern, it wasn¡¯t clear how exactly the effect was achieved.

    ¡°This is likely the most valuable single item of the lot,¡± he told the ecstatic airman. ¡°Silver and gold are silver and gold, but this is the sort of curiosity that will draw the attention of collectors, without any risk of crossing the Inquisition. I advise you to find a reputable dealer to auction it for you ¡ª even if it is valuable, it is only valuable in the right circles.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, sir,¡± the airman replied, touching his cap respectfully. He took the stool off to store it safely, mostly just to keep it out of people¡¯s way. While he would no doubt boast about his acquisition, a theft could hardly go unnoticed on the ship and the penalty for betraying one¡¯s fellows so far from civilization was steep. There was no such thing as law on a ship beyond the Captain¡¯s word; only honor, custom, and prudence.

    Almost a week after they departed Tor Ilek, the stricken airman ¨C Conrad ¨C returned to duty. He was no longer babbling nonsensically, but had become a darker and more taciturn man, one who refused to discuss what he had seen. Antomine kept the seal of the confessional and said nothing either, but even he showed some lingering malaise for a few days.

    Sometimes such encounters, exposure to such truths, lit a fire inside a man and made them burn for another taste. Other times, it broke them entirely. It remained to be seen upon which road Conrad had been set but, so long as it did not interfere with Jonathan¡¯s expedition, he had no preferences.

    Under the enforced schedule of an airship, the tension and excitement slowly faded. Even Antomine showed signs of boredom, and Jonathan was forced to lend out some of the volumes he had packed in his crates. Finally, though, the red and molten glow that limned the Verdant Expanse began to shine on the horizon. The fresh air that was piped through the ship from the outside began to smell of greenery and water and spices, and was warm enough that everyone but Jonathan shed their heavier coats or outer suits.

    Eleanor couldn¡¯t resist going above deck, despite the wind, letting her hair blow freely as the Endeavor flew over the abyss that separated the Verdant Expanse from the rugged lands further west. Waterfalls of fast-flowing lava dripped down the rock face, pouring into unfathomable depths below, the glow growing faint and vanishing long before it illuminated any sort of bottom. The molten rock cast a warm light upon the tangled green and brown that grew everywhere, the monstrous canopy reaching up hundreds of feet above the ground.

    A geyser in the distance caught the light, the resultant steam forming a hazy orange cloud that blew away in the wind. In the distance lightning flashed over the cone of one of the enormous volcanoes, tall and tortuous mountains that constantly spat and belched ash and lava over the Verdant Expanse, simultaneously fueling and choking its growth. As the glowing rivers shifted they burned enormous swaths of monumental vegetation, but the volcanic rock would sprout trees within hours and be entirely overgrown in days.

    Finding a place to tether in such a jungle was a fraught proposition, as any clearing was likely to be either temporary or the lair of something no sane man wanted to antagonize. Nor was it possible to simply fly straight through, for the volcanic climate and deluge of water pouring in from rivers both north and south brewed a potent cocktail of ill weather. Being battered this way and that by a sudden squall was an inevitable consequence of traveling it.

    Jonathan took himself to the bridge with an additional set of charts, for the best way to find safe harborage in the Verdant Expanse was to take refuge with the natives. The caravans that prowled the dense canopies and tangled understory were themselves monstrous, and perforce capable of defending themselves against the hostile environment. Locating such moving targets among the trackless wilderness took experience and a keen eye for times and dates, not to mention for which volcanic peak was which.

    Between the two of them, Jonathan and the navigator managed to determine the Endeavor¡¯s location on the map ¨C such as it was ¨C of the Verdant Expanse. With the information ¨C that which could be trusted ¨C from Tiuni, he could determine where the caravan should be. It was still imprecise, of course, but searching for a caravan trail was better than searching for some natural harbor.

    Montgomery brought the Endeavor lower to the canopy, with sailors manning the zint cannons to deal with the wildlife. Huge dark forms moved on silent wings, flitting in and out of the upper spotlights aimed out into the hostile sky. Insects the size of carriages buzzed past, wings sounding like drop-hammers as they beat the air.

    An airship was not necessarily an appetizing meal, but the light and noise was intrusion enough to annoy some of the inhabitants. Once, a great towering shadow of green scale rose from the treetops toward the ship, and it took a full minute of cannon fire to drive it away. Each impact popped with a stroboscopic glimpse of a triangular head nearly the size of the Endeavor¡¯s envelope, with teeth the size of a man and a long, legless body stretching to the forest floor below. The roar it gave off when the zint hit it rattled the decking, though it was clear they weren¡¯t doing all that much damage despite the sustained barrage. When it finally slunk away Montgomery ordered extra crew to the rear to sweep the area with spotlights, just in case it decided to follow.

    After many long and wearing hours scouring the glimpses of dark green foliage below, it was Jonathan who spotted the trail ¡ª primarily by the canopy having been denuded just enough to reveal the flash of a dark river and the bright spots of fantastical fruits and flowers. Even hundreds of feet in the air, some of them were large enough to be visible to the naked eye, frantically blooming and spreading into any open space they could.

    Following the trail once found was a simpler matter, the open canopy growing ever more clear as they neared the caravan itself. It was not long before undulating strings of ghostly white showed ahead of them, and Jonathan cautioned Montgomery to turn off the forward spotlights. Jonathan knew from personal experience they did not appreciate the bright beams of zint light, and if the Endeavor wanted to shelter and trade with them it behooved the ship to be polite.

    ¡°You may wish to join me out on the walk, Captain,¡± Jonathan told Montgomery. ¡°I am certain the caravan will be sending someone to see what we¡¯re about soon enough and I would hesitate to speak for all the details of the ship.¡±

    ¡°Sending¡ª? Yes. Mister Jameson, you have the bridge,¡± Montgomery told the navigator, and retrieved his cap from beside his chair. The two of them trooped out to the bottom deck platform mounted between the forward spotlights, and Jonathan put one hand on the rail. The scent of ash and ozone joined the rich scents of overgrowth, a foretaste of one of the many volcano-fueled storms that swept over the Verdant Expanse. They had some luck, at least, in finding a caravan before being forced to shelter from the tempest.

    Jonathan pursed his lips and whistled a short few notes. Montgomery gave him a look but didn¡¯t comment, waiting beside Jonathan with his tousled hair sticking out from under his captain¡¯s cap. Below them, one of the long ghostly streamers lifted up, casting faint shadows of enormous beasts as it came their way.

    The long line of strange whiteness undulated toward them until suddenly a long, thin figure latched onto the rail, razor claws locking in place and an unblinking, reptilian head peering at them from the end of a long neck. Scales shone in pearlescent colors under zint light, and the white streamer resolved itself into an enormous flowing tail marked with glowing bioluminescent stripes. The caravaneer was twice the size of a human excluding the tail, which floated thirty or forty feet behind it, and each movement was short and sharp with absolute stillness between.

    ¡°I greet you by the red of the mountains and the green of the canopy,¡± Jonathan said in the caravaneer¡¯s own language, which was mostly whistles and clicks. It was a tongue he¡¯d learned in his youth, and despite all his practice his locution was only acceptable.

    ¡°May your travels be smooth,¡± the caraveneer trilled back, long glowing tail floating casually behind it. ¡°What brings your journey to ours?¡±

    ¡°Shelter and supplies,¡± Jonathan replied, waving his cane to encompass the bulk of the Endeavor. ¡°We need a safe place to moor our ship and scavenge for food and water. In offer, we bring stories of our own and the weapons of humankind¡¯s ingenuity.¡± He took a moment to translate for Montgomery, though the exchange was obvious. None would expect the caravaneers to offer hospitality for nothing.

    ¡°The waters of the sky will soon arrive,¡± the caravaneer chirped in agreement. ¡°You are welcome to share our clearing in the spirit that you will guard it as your own.¡±

    ¡°We thank you for your hospitality,¡± Jonathan said, and then began the detailed negotiations. He didn¡¯t actually know the effective range of Endeavor¡¯s weapons, or what the specifications for a proper tether point might be, or any other of a number of logistical concerns for resupply. Montgomery¡¯s presence ensured that the Endeavor was located properly, where it could both benefit from and contribute to the caravaneer camp.

    There were also certain rules that were peculiar to each caravan, which Jonathan was certain to make sure he understood. In a way caravaneers were more understandable than many nearer-human types, like the fractured, but they were no less dangerous. A perfectly calm group of the reptiles could erupt into violence with absolute coordination and no obvious incitement.

    Montgomery soon returned to the bridge to direct the ship down closer to the caravan, where great lumbering reptiles the size of the Endeavor took heroic bites out of the foliage. Massive teeth sheared leaves, trunks, vines, and flowers with contemptuous ease, huge feet trampling the ground behind flat for the rest of the caravan to cross. Most of that was composed of enormous, house-sized sleds towed behind the vanguard, but there were dozens of smaller vehicles tended by the long-tailed types.

    ¡°Do not touch anything there without invitation,¡± Jonathan told the crew and passengers assembled on the bottom deck, in anticipation of going down to the surface. ¡°If you cause an injury or are responsible for a theft, they will kill you and we will do nothing.¡± He surveyed people with cold eyes, holding Eleanor¡¯s gaze for a moment. ¡°Nothing.¡± He rapped his cane on the deck for emphasis. ¡°If you merely cause offense we will be forced to leave, and scavenge for supplies without the support of natives. You all have already seen how perilous that would be.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll be on our best behavior,¡± Eleanor promised, though both her maids give her skeptical looks. Jonathan wasn¡¯t too worried, as Eleanor was not stupid, but his warning was entirely serious. If she had the poor judgement to steal and get caught, that was on her own head.

    The sound of claws tapping against metal announced the arrival of one of the caravaneers with a waist-thick braided vine, which was passed to skittish airmen to tie to a tether hook fixed into the keel of the ship. The other end was tied to one of the harnesses for the gargantuan pack-beasts, where it had settled down to ride out the weather. The assemblage of enormous reptiles lay down in a rough circle, the sleds in the middle, and the smaller reptiles had lashed together a patchwork canopy of fabrics taken from the oversized transports.

    ¡°You can trade while we¡¯re waiting out the weather,¡± Jonathan added, nodding to Montgomery as he emerged from the stairwell. ¡°Afterward we¡¯ll have the opportunity to accompany their hunting parties for supplies.¡±

    ¡°These things do not speak the human tongue,¡± Antomine said, clearly discomfited by the thought of dealing with the caravaneers. ¡°How do you expect us to trade with them?¡±

    ¡°Lots of southerners don¡¯t speak the language either,¡± Montgomery said before Jonathan could reply. ¡°Pantomime works well enough when all you¡¯re doing is swapping goods.¡±

    ¡°Hm,¡± Antomine replied, looking displeased under his broad-brimmed hat. ¡°How much do we truly need these supplies?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve got another couple weeks before we start rationing food,¡± Montgomery admitted, ignoring the looks being sent at Antomine. ¡°But we¡¯ll need to resupply on water sooner than that and unless you like jerky and hardtack, this is the best place to get fresh.¡± Antomine frowned in reply, but made no further protest.

    ¡°Right, you lot,¡± Montgomery told his crew. ¡°Only six crew out at a time, stay together, make sure you run anything strange past Mister Antomine, and listen to anything Mister Heights tells you. This is a chance to pick up luxuries and maybe even double your earnings if you find anything worth trading trinkets for, but don¡¯t be stupid.¡±

    ¡°The best thing you could bring for bartering is raw metal stock,¡± Jonathan told his audience. ¡°Gold and silver are valuable enough, but not as much as steel. They¡¯ll be sending a gondola in a few minutes, so those that are coming, take that time to prepare.¡±

    He lifted up his own case, which was full of rolled steel rods, and strode over to the door to look out at where the vine was secured. It stretched and flexed as the wind caught the Endeavor¡¯s envelope, but was far stronger than it looked and bore the strain without complaint. Small flecks of light glimmered on it, phosphorescent insects inhabiting the vine rope, and against those lights a shadow grew as a sort of basket came into sight. The covered conveyance propelled itself by means unknown, the wooden arch connecting it to the vine tether moving of its own accord.

    At Montgomery¡¯s direction, airmen rushed to run a rope bridge from the outside walkway to the basket¡¯s entrance, tying off ropes on handy protruding knobs under the arched door in the basket. Jonathan led the way inside, the interior lit with ghostly grey-green globes embedded in the walls, and once everyone was inside he rapped the ceiling with his cane. The basket lurched into motion, lowering them down into the caravaneer¡¯s camp.

 Chapter Ten

    Jonathan stepped out into the camp of the strange reptilian folk that called the Verdant Expanse home. Overhead was a shield of stretched, stitched, and oiled hide spanning an area as wide as a city block, deflecting the wind and rain and ash of the volcano-fueled storm. The peculiar spectral illumination the caravaneers favored cast everything into an unreal light, painting everyone in colors that weren¡¯t quite right.

    Reds shifted to something more bloody, whites to corpselike lividity, and the dark colors of Jonathan¡¯s suit turned charred and sooty, as if blackened by smoke. Pupils seemed to vanish under the colors of the light, save for Antomine¡¯s white which defied the alteration. Yet that was the least disturbing effect, for the lanterns also removed a certain solidity from those under it, making them look nearly translucent and their edges uncertain.

    The enormous sleds stood on the battered, denuded earth, houses in truth complete with windows, doors, roofs, and balconies. At rest, those doors and windows were thrown open, balconies turned into shopfronts. The camp became a small but bustling marketplace, rendered strange by the patrons being half-floating scaled folk moving in quick, short bursts. The long, luminous tails rippled and waved, dancing ribbons rising all the way to the hide ceiling.

    Jonathan¡¯s cane sank only slightly into the soil, compacted as it was by the weight of countless tons of pack-beast. His fellow humans huddled behind him, rendered child-like by the proportions of the surroundings. He waved them along, making his way toward the nearest sled-house and ignoring the caravaneers that occasionally swooped close overhead, though most of his party flinched. Antomine was a conspicuous exception, his broad-brimmed hat tilting up as he regarded the non-humans.

    Strange as the surroundings were to human eyes, Jonathan had no trouble picking out his destination, and led the way to one particular sled that had prismatic flowers braided into the balconies, a dozen different shops packed into one building. The others could trade for whatever caught their eye, but he had a specific product in mind. While not as necessary as the strange compass he¡¯d constructed, there were times when an altered state of mind could be very useful to grapple with more unusual locations.

    ¡°I would not advise approaching other sleds, but this one is friendly to outsiders,¡± Jonathan said, indicating the flowers with his cane. Eleanor and the airmen spread out along the indicated construction to look at the various goods, some of which were botanical and some of which were the contrivance of reptilian hands. Antomine stayed where he was, lips pursed as he regarded Jonathan.

    ¡°They don¡¯t seem to be all that interested that we¡¯re here. Even though we¡¯re outsiders.¡± Antomine clasped his hands behind his back. ¡°That seems unlikely. What¡¯s the catch?¡±

    ¡°They likely aren¡¯t interested,¡± Jonathan told him, the man and his two guard accompanying him as he began to circle around the side of the sled. ¡°I doubt we¡¯re the strangest thing they¡¯ve seen this week ¡ª a caravan moves between destinations, after all. Nor are we much of a threat.¡± He pointed his cane at the massive, hulking form of the pack beasts at the edges of the hide rain-shield. ¡°Any one of those could tear the Endeavor apart. Equally, they could tear anything that threatens the Endeavor apart, and I have found the caravaneers to be fairly polite.¡±

    ¡°Polite so far as we follow their rules,¡± Antomine said, not exactly a complaint. Jonathan expected he knew what particular point irritated the young man ¡ª the Inquisition¡¯s remit was to keep humanity safe from that without, and he could hardly do so in another race¡¯s territory. If anything, Antomine was being exceedingly generous in his tolerance for fraternization.

    ¡°I assure you, Mister Antomine, that I will not inflict any impossible requirements upon you,¡± Jonathan said, pausing in front of a particular caravaneer¡¯s display where glimmering blooms of shocking fluorescence stood in pots. ¡°There are indeed certain places where just to gain entrance would require prices none of us are willing to pay, but I have none of those places in our itinerary. Some encounters with the natives of these lands is inevitable, and better that it be controlled.¡±

    ¡°On that point I can agree,¡± Antomine said, eyeing the flowers with disfavor. Jonathan stepped forward and withdrew several short bars of iron from the satchel at his side, laying them out in front of the lightfooted lizard who deigned to notice him.

    There followed a short conversation in whistles and clicks as Jonathan dickered with the caravaneer. He couldn¡¯t use the flowers in their present form, but there would be plenty of time to dry and powder them before they might be necessary. At length he passed over several pounds of steel in exchange for two phosphorescent plants in wooden pots, nestling them in the crook of his arm as he waited for the others to finish their shopping. Antomine, of course, evinced no interest in the prospect, save for preventing anyone from bringing anything untoward aboard the ship.

    A deep and earth-shaking roar interrupted the caravan¡¯s activity, followed by the distinct sound of the zint artillery. Jonathan turned toward the sound, seeing nothing beyond the wall of pack-beasts, but the impact of something large shuddered through the trampled earth beneath his feet. Blood-chilling screams and savage growls echoed as, somewhere unseen, massive creatures battled. A reminder that, as quaint and cozy as the encampment seemed, it was surrounded by hungry and trackless jungle.

    ¡°You know, I think I¡¯m going to skip out on hunting,¡± Eleanor said, sauntering up. Her pair of maids trailed her, both of them carrying intricately carved statuettes made of some deep blue wood. They merely depicted caravaneers, but they were adorned with chips of gleaming chitin and flecks of opalescent shell and were quite likely to fetch a pretty price at auction. ¡°That sounds a little too big for comfort. Besides, I¡¯m not really cut out for the wilderness.¡±

    ¡°As you prefer,¡± Jonathan said, as the furor outside the camp reached its peak, one last desperate wail leaving a sudden and shocking silence in its wake. ¡°I expect nothing untoward, but when it comes to the Verdant Expanse I cannot be certain.¡±

    ¡°You can have it,¡± Eleanor said. ¡°Take Antomine along. He¡¯s got an adventurous streak.¡± Jonathan nodded, fingers tapping on his cane, but was not sure how Eleanor came by the insight. Though perhaps he had neglected his fellow travelers; with the sunlight blazing in his depths they seemed almost irrelevant, save for the purpose they served. Something to address in the future, as he had no wish for them to wind up aligned against him.

    The rain stopped with an unexpected suddenness, whereupon Jonathan corralled the remaining members of the human contingent to return to the gondola. As they climbed in, so that Jonathan could prepare for the hunting expedition, some caravaneers hauled in the corpse of the beast that had drawn the Endeavor¡¯s fire. It was an enormous, long-faced, shaggy-maned thing that rivaled the size of the pack-beasts, and promised thousands of pounds of raw meat.

    ¡°Surely there is enough there that we could purchase¡ª¡± Antomine began, looking in the direction of the carcass. He was interrupted as every caravaneer in the camp descended suddenly upon the body in a flash of scale and tail. In a savage orgy of blood and jaws they tore into the still-warm corpse. Growls and snarls came from the otherwise-polite caravaneers as they fought over the choicest entrails.

    ¡°Ah,¡± Antomine said, looking faintly nauseated. ¡°I withdraw that.¡±

    ¡°We will need to make our own kills,¡± Jonathan agreed. It was not an unfamiliar sight to him, yet still unsettling to have their hosts overtaken by such feral behavior. He kept it as a reminder that the caravaneers were not human, and the indifferent politeness they exhibited was but a thin veneer over something more ancient and ravenous, a hunger that could never be appeased.

    Back aboard the Endeavor, he made the only concession he needed for the hunt ¡ª zint weaponry. They would be engaged in bloody work. Though he had come to the pistols and rifles later in his life than bladed weapons, he found himself with a liking for their deadly efficiency, even if their light was a mockery of what he pursued.

    The detail assembled for the hunting expedition, though Jonathan had more faith in Montgomery, Antomine¡¯s guards, and himself than most of other crew that had joined. They might be tough, but most of them didn¡¯t have the hardness in the back of their eyes to show they could be relied upon. Crowded into the gondola, he could smell fear and excitement from some of them ¡ª though not from any of the Inquisition. They were as unflappable as ever.

    By the time they reached the ground again the oiled hide had been pulled away, revealing an orange-red haze in the distance from lava diffusing through fog and mist. The caravaneers accompanying them touched the ground only casually and indifferently, long floating tails coiling in the air as the party breached the edge of the encampment. Two packbeasts lay like boulders on either side, but one of them tilted its head to watch them with an enormous, glinting eye.

    Beyond the trampled boundary of the camp, ghostly lizard-light and zint-lanterns revealed a riotous overgrowth of fern and vine, fruit and flower. The smell of greenery was like running into a solid wall, fecund beyond imagining, with damp rich soil and hints of a distant river. The calls, shrieks, howls, and wails of animals unseen sounded all about them, and the men kept their rifles at the ready.

    ¡°Hunting in the Verdant Expanse is more a matter of setting yourself as bait and hoping you can deal with what comes after you,¡± Jonathan remarked to Antomine, pushing aside a fern with his cane to keep the thirsty hooks of its leaves from seeking his flesh. He kept his rifle in his other hand for, although he was confident in his ability to deal with whatever they might find, foolhardiness was rarely rewarded.

    ¡°Do you expect to find anything small enough?¡± Antomine asked, glancing back at the sled being hauled by four of the crew, upon which was piled ropes, knives, saws, bags of salt, and other such equipment for dealing with fresh kills. Already the bins there were being filled as Montgomery pointed out fruits and hanging pods that were edible. They¡¯d likely be overflowing inside of ten minutes.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure our escorts would be happy to take anything we couldn¡¯t carry,¡± Jonathan said, glancing over to where one of the caravaneers¡¯ tails was visible as a long rippling glow just outside the circle of lantern-light. Antomine shuddered.

    Despite Jonathan¡¯s warnings, they navigated through the thick undergrowth for nearly half an hour with only minor inconveniences. A spider half the size of a man descended from a tree above, aiming not for any of the crew but for the bin filled with luscious fruit. Some long, slinky thing with a sleek black pelt ran circles around Montgomery and Antomine both for several minutes, but the only casualty was a belt buckle from one of the airmen that it carried off into the darkness clutched in one of its paws. A few bloodsucking pests the size of man¡¯s head buzzed the group and were summarily sliced from the air.

    It was only once they had gotten well away from the camp that something substantial appeared out of the dark. The caravaneers whistled warning, and Jonathan had everyone¡¯s rifles up and ready when a fifteen-foot-tall mass of vivid orange muscle burst from between two oversized bushes. It had half a dozen feline eyes on a long equine snout full of razor teeth and its six limbs churned as it aimed itself directly at Jonathan, where he stood in the lead.

    The volley of zint bolts hammered into the grotesque head, burning holes in the jaw and the skull. Only one out of every ten actually hit ¨C and most of those from Antomine¡¯s guards ¨C but combined they sent the beast toppling with a groan before it came within twenty feet of Jonathan. If anything it seemed anticlimactic, as airmen leapt forward to string the beast up to field-prepare it, though the ship¡¯s cook seemed baffled by the bizarre internal anatomy of the thing. He was still dissecting cuts when one of the caravaneers flitted over to Jonathan.

    ¡°A red river runs this way,¡± it said matter-of-factly, and Jonathan whipped about to yell at the assembled gawkers.

    ¡°Grab everything and head that way!¡± Jonathan pointed up a moderate slope with his cane before following his own advice and hurrying uphill.

    ¡°Snap to it!¡± Montgomery said sharply, and airmen grabbed the sled and hastily hauled everything away from the kill site. The blind flight was dangerous, but less so than the sudden flood of lava that swept through the gully they¡¯d been in before, moving faster than water and hitting them with a hammer of furnace heat.

    Leaves scorched and wilted, runners of fire ran up bark, and plants were crushed and burned under the molten rock. Yet at the same time, creepers and barren trees that had seemed nearly dead awoke, twisting and writhing and plunging roots into the scorching river. Veins of fire bloomed inside of strange plants as a second jungle awoke, one that fed on rivers of red instead of blue.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t expecting this,¡± Jonathan said, squinting past the roiling waves of heat that reeked of sulfur and ash. ¡°But it¡¯s a marvelous opportunity, so long as you don¡¯t mind a few blisters.¡± The airmen were beginning to sweat and Montgomery was looking a trifle damp from the heat. Antimony¡¯s pale face had reddened, but his guards seemed unaffected ¡ª though it was impossible to tell under their armor.

    The fast-flowing lava actually splashed and spit here and there, sending deadly globs to smolder and smoke where they landed on greenery and loam. Jonathan shielded his face as he gripped his cane by the base, reaching out with the handle to hook a swollen, incendiary fruit from a recently-revived tree. A jerk plucked it from its stem and he caught it, juggling it to hold with his sleeve where the cloth steamed from the touch.

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°And what use are such things?¡± Antomine didn¡¯t seem much impressed, but he stepped forward against the wall of scorching air to reach for his own fruit ¡ª only to find it fading and pulling away from his grasp. He frowned and stepped back, wiping a sheen of sweat from his forehead.

    ¡°For eating, of course,¡± Jonathan said, carefully carrying his burden to the sled. ¡°Mister Montgomery, if we can gather enough of these we can take the Bitter Pass rather than going around Widow¡¯s Peak.¡±

    ¡°Oh? Hmm.¡± Montgomery said, clearly considering the option. Few humans had been so far east, but there were writing and accounts, and Jonathan had both to detail the challenges they would face, as well as the maps to guide them to or around such dangers. Without some form of unnatural vitality, it was foolhardy to brave the Bitter Pass, lest people set themselves aflame to ward off the cold.

    ¡°Mister Heights!¡± Antomine barked. ¡°I will not have you contaminating men with such alien things.¡± He grabbed a quailing fruit from the branch and held it up, where it hissed and shrank from his touch. ¡°Look at this! Whatever benefits this may have are rendered irrelevant next to its antipathy to good and honest light. Some encounters may be inevitable on this expedition of ours, but I will not brook imperiling lives and souls for the sake of expediency.¡± He hurled the fruit he had plucked into the lava by way of emphasis. ¡°There will be no use of this poison while I am here.¡±

    Montgomery looked uncomfortable, and the airmen were clearly hesitant about the idea of imbibing anything that might give the Inquisition pause. Jonathan glared at Antomine in cold fury at being stymied, his fingers tightening on the cane. James and John moved up unobtrusively, ready to support their master. The tense moment stretched until it was unceremoniously interrupted by the smashing and crashing of another beast stumbling upon their party, scorched orange fur still smoking as evidence of what had driven it there.

    Men scrambled for their rifles, and Jonathan took out his frustrations by using his cane as a club, the four-legged and half-feathered creature having made the injudicious decision to come within arm¡¯s length in its lunge. The flat face crunched under the impact of the cane¡¯s handle, forcing it back with a gurgling screech. Zint bolts sizzled into it a moment later, boring holes in the thick muscled hide and eliciting an awful, gurgling series of vocalizations.

    Jonathan stepped forward and, venting his outrage, put it out of its misery by punching the blunt end of his cane up through the bottom of its jaw and into its brain. It crumpled to the ground and he took several steps back to get out of the way, resting the entirely clean and pristine end of the cane on the ground as he tapped his fingers on the crook. Airmen moved in to check that it was truly dead as he stared at it, suppressing his fury at being thwarted in favor of cold calculation.

    Murdering Antomine in front of the crew would certainly not make them trust Jonathan any, and Antomine¡¯s words had already had their effect. Montgomery¡¯s opinion was poisoned against the fruits and the shortcut they would permit, and the only way to use them would be to force them on the captain and crew. Something that would ultimately result in a far worse consequence than a mere delay, albeit one of several days. He exercised command over his faculties and smoothed his expression to something more neutral before turning back to the party.

    ¡°I admit it may not be worth the risk for most,¡± he conceded. ¡°More prosaic supplies will have to hold us.¡± He looked straight at Antomine, daring him to comment any further on their disagreement. Antomine declined, merely nodding agreement with Jonathan¡¯s comment and directing his guards to help with dismantling their newest kill.

    Even that was not without its interruptions, though several of the beasts that loomed up into the zint-light turned and fled before they could be taken down. One that did attack, a hooved and antlered titan rendered in lurid green, melted into some caustic slime upon death that corroded a pit in the ground. A reminder that even the most ordinary-seeming of things in the Verdant Expanse were twisted by whatever strange energy rendered it fecund beyond imagining.

    Once the meat from the kill joined the rest on the sled, now piled high and requiring more men to tow it, they began circling back to the direction of the camp. While they had not been cut off by the river of lava, retracing their steps was effectively impossible ¡ª any path they had cleared was long regrown, and even the great titans of the forest that rose around them could shuffle along in a peripatetic meander. Between the caravaneer outriders and Montgomery¡¯s finely-honed sense of direction, there was no chance of getting lost, but a less prepared party might well find itself hopelessly misplaced in the rampant greenery. Even simply reversing course resulted in encountering landmarks they certainly had not seen on the way out.

    A caravaneer whistled softly in warning a moment before the canopy receded ahead of them in a long, stretched moment, vanishing from above of its own accord. A soft gray illumination rose from the ground like mist and revealed a burnished bronze minaret sprouting from the sudden clearing like some strange plant. The singular tower was peculiarly pristine, unblemished by vegetation or heat or time, yet projected from the ground as if half-buried. A shallow spiral wrapped from where it emerged from the soil up to the top where arches revealed a cracked clay bell hanging from the top of the spire.

    Jonathan halted, throwing up a hand as he eyed the ruin. The Verdant Expanse was the grave of any number of civilizations, most of which even he had only the faintest inklings about. The small spiraled tower and its attendant bell corresponded to nothing he was familiar with, the very lack of decorations a style of its own. A perfect circle of untrod soil surrounded it, with no plants or rock to spoil the black loam, and that alone was alarming.

    He turned to say something to Antomine and Montgomery but found, though his mouth could make movements and air left his lungs, he could not speak. Antomine¡¯s face twisted in confusion and he attempted to reply but his words, too, were snatched away before they could form. With each failed utterance an aura of palpable menace grew outward from the minaret, the clay bell rocking, beginning to silently toll.

    In the short time that their backs had been turned, the jungle had somehow vanished in the luminous gray mists that surrounded them. The airmen reacted with mute dismay, gesticulating as their failed words fed the menace of the spiral tower and the silent bell. Jonathan found himself unimpressed by such a simple trick and exchanged looks with Antomine. Instead, Jonathan mimed linking arms and gestured at the rest of the men, and Antomine nodded.

    The tricks of mist and radiance meant nothing to eyes that had seen a light so true as sunlight, though he had no desire to be around once that bell reached its peak. The prickling sense of danger grew, pressing down with palpable force and making it difficult to move as everyone clasped forearms or held onto the sled. Jonathan himself took one of the sled leads, and the only caravaneer who had been caught in the clearing descended to land atop it. Antomine gave it a baleful look; their native guides should have stopped them from stumbling on such a landmark.

    All the men worked in concert, hauling themselves and their sleds away from the dire minaret, the pressure growing with each step. The bottom of the sled bit into the earth, and several of the airmen struggled to stay upright. Others like Montgomery seemed to have no troubles, hauling their stricken fellows forward one step at a time. All the sound leeched out of the world, the scrape of sled on soil, the sigh of the wind, then the sounds of breath and heartbeat were stolen away.

    Antomine¡¯s white-pupiled eyes glowed as he fought against the inimical and unnatural influence of the place, pushing out a small bubble of sound as they moved forward, step by deliberate step. In response the oppressive silence sharpened to a hunger, actively clutching at them, tugging at clothes and ropes, grabbing onto the sled. The sole flaming fruit Jonathan had harvested tumbled from where it rested atop the bins, its fire flickering and dying as it rolled inward toward the tower.

    One unfortunate soul fell to his knees, but James ¨C or perhaps it was John ¨C scooped him up, the faceless armor expressionless as always. Jonathan fixed his gaze on the jungle¡¯s edge, far closer than it seemed if one could tell directions, and hauled the sled as his boots dug into the untouched soil. The hungry silence tried to pull them back, avaricious and angry, but Jonathan¡¯s will was steel and his soul was sunlight. No malicious spirit was enough to entrap him.

    He hauled all and sundry past the mists with one last convulsive jerk, and the entire edifice evaporated as if it were made of nothing more substantial than the vapor which had surrounded them. The tower and its clearing were gone, zint-lamps finding only the same vibrant vegetation as stretched in every other direction. Jonathan turned to scowl at the lizard that had hitched a ride while Montgomery counted heads, making sure they had all made it out.

    ¡°Why were we not warned of such a hazard?¡± He demanded of their guide, contorting his throat around the whistles and clicks. ¡°Have we not been adequate guests?¡±

    ¡°It was not foreseen,¡± the caravaneer admitted, blinking its oversized eyes once. ¡°Perhaps there is one among you who is on such a taboo path that it would attract the workings of the ancients.¡± It stared at him closely, then at Antomine, though Jonathan could not tell what it was thinking by the inexpressive face. ¡°Such aspirations are forbidden here,¡± it concluded. ¡°You will have to leave.¡±

    ¡°Only once we have what we need,¡± Jonathan said, lips pressed tight as he stared challengingly at the reptile. There was an edge to his gaze, the sunlight deep in his soul that brooked no disagreement. Despite the caravaneer¡¯s larger size, it looked away first, and Jonathan shook his head in disgust before surveying the party.

    Everyone was still alive, if somewhat shaken. The only casualty, if it could be called that, was the man who had collapsed before they had escaped the minaret grounds. His sound seemed to have been stolen away permanently, for no word nor shout nor clap of hands produced anything audible. Antomine took the distraught man aside as they made their way back, moving at a crawl to avoid stumbling over any other antiquities.

    Jonathan distrusted the caravaneers¡¯ explanation, but was forced to concede to himself it was possible either he or Antomine could have stirred something by their very presence. He still didn¡¯t know what the Illuminated King¡¯s real interest in sunlight was, or why the Explorer¡¯s Society had been so set against it. Perhaps some forgotten artifice resonated with the memory he carried with him, or perhaps Antomine¡¯s own fragment of the Illuminated King¡¯s secret was objectionable.

    Twice on the return Jonathan called a halt, stuck by the sensation of some unnamable evil stalking them from beyond the ring of zint-light, though nothing emerged. The shadows of leaves and branches took on suggestive forms, of reaching claws and rending jaws and other, more enigmatic threats that required putting the offending obstacles to the torch, oily flames licking into the air. Yet at the end of the hour they returned to encampment no worse for the wear, save for the fraying of some nerves.

    Stepping past the line of immense pack-beasts, they immediately found a volatile tension. The gondola had been ripped off the vine that ran up to the Endeavor and several airmen were standing about it with guns, not to mention Eleanor and her maids. Several caravanners stood motionless but for their slowly drifting tails, staring down the human contingent.

    ¡°What did those idiots do?¡± Montgomery growled, long strides taking him toward the gondola, heedless of the standoff. Antomine followed without hesitation, and Jonathan glanced back at the sled before deciding it could keep. He very much doubted that whatever was going on could be resolved without translation.

    One of the lizards made a quick movement toward Montgomery when he passed by, and John ¨C or perhaps it was James ¨C cracked its reaching forepaw with his baton. The caravaneer hissed, and Jonathan stepped forward with a sharp whistle. Incipient violence suffused the air, waiting to erupt at the slightest provocation.

    ¡°I appeal to the camp; what has brought upon this disagreement?¡± Jonathan asked in clicks and whistles, planting his cane on the ground as he came to a stop in front of the Gondola. He nodded to Eleanor, then to Sarah and Marie, all of whom were wound tense and ready to act.

    ¡°They want to take Martin,¡± Eleanor said tersely, one hand waving at the gondola. Behind her, Montgomery was getting a similar story from one of the airmen.

    ¡°The human has stolen,¡± one of the caravaneers said with a vindictive whistle. ¡°Violated the guesting agreements and sacrificed their rights to their flesh.¡±

    ¡°Allow me to inquire of my own accord,¡± Jonathan said, not bothering to ask if the accusation was true. A false accusation would put the accuser in the precise situation as the accused ¡ª at the sharp end of reptilian jaws. He beckoned to Antomine, glad for once to have the services of an Inquisitor.

    ¡°They say that Martin stole something,¡± Jonathan told him, pointing his cane in the direction of the gondola. ¡°I absolutely need to know if that¡¯s true, in any aspect.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Antomine said, and strode confidently over to question the man. Eleanor frowned after him.

    ¡°Can anything be done?¡± She asked. ¡°If he did ¡ª we can¡¯t just let them take him.¡±

    ¡°Unless you wish to fight all of that¡­¡± Jonathan began, making a circle with his finger to indicate the towering reptilian beasts keeping out the rest of the jungle. ¡°Though perhaps there is a chance.¡± He had not seen any reason to press on the caravaneers¡¯ failure before, but it was the only thing he had to mitigate such a trespass.

    ¡°Mister Martin seems to be possessed of a profoundly lacking intellect,¡± Antomine said upon his return, only moments later. ¡°He believed that he could spirit off this statuette and none would be the wiser.¡± The young Inquisitor proffered the item in question, which seemed to be made of some pale blue amber, translucent and shimmering in the ghost-light of the caravaneers¡¯ tails.

    ¡°He must have been one of the crew we hired on at Danby¡¯s,¡± Jonathan said, not believing that Montgomery would have flown with someone of such poor judgement if he knew the man¡¯s character.

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t make him any less worthy of our empathy,¡± Antomine replied, perhaps not liking Jonathan¡¯s tone.

    ¡°As you say,¡± Jonathan said, not entirely indifferent to the airman¡¯s plight, but not sympathetic enough to risk anything of value either. They had been warned of the consequences of theft, even if airmen tended to have a rather loose interpretation of ownership when in foreign ports. He took the statuette and turned to one of the waiting caravaneers, the one who had answered his question, tossing the pilfered item back.

    ¡°I am aware of the penalties for theft within a caravan,¡± Jonathan said, as the lizard caught the effigy with a sharp snap of its forepaw. ¡°So I do not ask for clemency. Rather, I will bargain one failure against another. Our guides led us directly into an entrapping ruin, with no warning, and it was only through our own efforts that we escaped.¡± He didn¡¯t mention the caravaneer that had been rescued with them. To the lizard¡¯s way of thinking there was no credit in that, only a penalty if their party had left the creature behind.

    ¡°One of you is carrying forbidden desires,¡± the reptile replied, whistles and clicks conveying how absolutely untenable that was.

    ¡°Which does not absolve you of your duties as hosts and guards,¡± Jonathan thumped his cane on the ground in emphasis. ¡°We are owed our default of flesh for that failure of services rendered in good faith. But I will trade you debts, so yours can be held in abeyance for a later time.¡± Until after the guards in question were dead, for example.

    ¡°Agreed,¡± the reptile said after a moment¡¯s consideration. ¡°But the scales are not balanced. We still require a pound of flesh.¡±

    ¡°Very well,¡± Jonathan said grimly, and turned to Antomine. ¡°Bring him out. He will live, but he will not be happy.¡±

    ¡°Very well,¡± Antomine said, equally solemn, and returned to the gondola. His guards practically dragged the man out, a ratty-looking specimen that Jonathan certainly wouldn¡¯t have hired, but perhaps the offerings at Danby¡¯s Point had been limited.

    ¡°Consider yourself lucky,¡± Jonathan told the airman, removing a length of cord from his pocket, where he¡¯d stowed it after tying down canvas on the sleds. ¡°You¡¯re going to live.¡± Then he whistled to the reptile.

    ¡°What¡ª¡± Martin gawked at Jonathan, then there was a flash of scale and jaws and the airman stared dumbly at the stump of his wrist where his hand had been. Jonathan wrapped the cord around the arm and pulled it tight to tourniquet the wound, before shoving the shocked man back toward Antomine.

    ¡°Come on,¡± he said, mood sour, ignoring the shocked looks of the others. ¡°Let us retrieve our sleds and be on our way.¡±

 Chapter Eleven

    ¡°I don¡¯t think the crew much like you,¡± Eleanor said, watching the glowing cone of a volcano slowly slide past in the distance. For the moment there was no weather, and the passengers had all gravitated to the observation room after a large meal with fresh and exotic supplies.

    ¡°They aren¡¯t required to,¡± Jonathan replied, though he wasn¡¯t blind to the implications. It was his expedition and he was paying them, but they were the ones who ran the ship. A true mutiny seemed unlikely, especially as they got further from human civilization. Beyond the Verdant Expanse was where things began to get truly strange, and even for him details often fled the mind. He would be the only one who could properly interpret the maps, but there were innumerable ways that a hostile crew could stymie the ultimate goal.

    ¡°It does seem rather ungrateful,¡± he continued, idly tapping his fingers on his notebook. ¡°I have spent significant effort to ensure that the Endeavor and those inside her have been safe.¡±

    ¡°I guess,¡± Eleanor admitted, wrinkling her nose. ¡°You used to be a lot more personable, though. Almost charming, even. Not like now.¡±

    ¡°I understand more now,¡± Jonathan said. ¡°Charm didn¡¯t save my last expedition; being personable does little to bring us to our destination. I am the way I am now so that we can reach sunlight.¡±

    ¡°Be wary you do not lose yourself entirely,¡± Antomine warned. He didn¡¯t look up from the well-thumbed book of scripture he was perusing. ¡°Obsession is too dangerous to leave unchecked.¡±

    ¡°And yet, it is the reason you are both here,¡± Jonathan said, scornful of their displeasure. ¡°The wild dark won¡¯t be convinced by the indulgent beliefs of Beacon. A careful, safe, and measured approach is for those who have the safety of walls and guards.¡±

    ¡°We carry civilization with us,¡± Antomine disagreed. ¡°Every moral stricture, every code of behavior is with us. Out here in the dark, what separates us from beasts and inhuman monsters rests entirely in our heart and souls.¡± His white pupils lit with religious fervor as he lowered his missal. ¡°We are the light in the darkness. Carrying that light with us is ever more important the further from Beacon we get.¡±

    Jonathan pressed his lips together against any choice words that might emerge. The light that Antomine carried with him seemed a pale and pathetic thing compared to what Jonathan knew, but the young man had a certain faith in it nonetheless. Nor could Jonathan deny that the inquisitor had his uses.

    ¡°I have found that certain concessions must be made out here,¡± Jonathan said instead, trying to steer the conversation away from something that might well spark tempers further. ¡°Perhaps we have run into an unfair number of the inevitable hazards to be found outside of Beacon, but there is more to come. If anyone finds the conditions too harsh, it is far too late now. We¡¯re nearly on the other side of the Verdant Expanse.¡±

    ¡°What exactly is past the Verdant Expanse?¡± Eleanor asked. ¡°I¡¯ve seen the maps, but they don¡¯t tell me much, and people back in Beacon talk about it like it¡¯s the edge of the world.¡±

    ¡°It might as well be,¡± Jonathan said, regarding the absolute darkness ahead of them, where there were no spots of glow from sheltershrooms or lava or phosphorescent rivers. Just an abyss, like the sky above. ¡°Nothing here has any real contact with humans. There are no inhabitants we would care to encounter. No patterns or cycles to the weather that I¡¯ve been able to understand.¡±

    ¡°Or landmarks to navigate by,¡± Eleanor suggested, waving her cigarette holder at the front window.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Jonathan said, inclining his head. ¡°Getting lost would be terribly easy ¡ª and terribly deadly.¡±

    In the following days, Jonathan ended up spending more time on the bridge than the observation deck, poring over the maps and trying to match it with the small pieces of landscape the Endeavor¡¯s lights revealed. They navigated by triskolabe and dead reckoning, as Jonathan refused to use the strange circle-compass he¡¯d created until it was time to approach the city of Angkor Leng. After all, its direction was a mere perceptual trick and not true guidance.

    Beyond the end of the Verdant Expanse, thin, razor-edged towers jutted upward from the ground, which was oft as not shrouded in some dense mist that reflected zint in varied and muted colors. Dull copper or azure, sometimes muddy red and other times pulsing indigo. It flowed and shifted like a living thing, and Montgomery kept the Endeavor well out of reach.

    ¡°The map doesn¡¯t even help,¡± Montgomery grumbled, one hand on the wheel as he watched columns of sharp black stone drift by, most of them stretching upward far beyond the range of the spotlights and the maximum height the ship could reach. His hand twitched the wheel here and there as he personally steered the Endeavor between outcroppings of stone, the engines at half power while they navigated the maze. ¡°Though I suppose it¡¯d take generations to chart all this.¡±

    He pulled levers and the Endeavor ascended to clear a projecting beam, a glassy stone arch connecting two of the towers. The spotlights showed a glimpse of some kind of disturbingly humanlike creature crawling along the underside, just for a moment before it passed out of sight. Montgomery grunted and directed some of his men to man the chase guns before looking at Jonathan.

    ¡°I saw it,¡± Jonathan confirmed, eyeing some of the archways that were much further up, only barely visible at the edge of the spotlights¡¯ reach. He tapped his cane against the deck, the sound sharpening as he focused his thoughts, and rose, absently adjusting his suit. ¡°Keep going east. There should only be another twenty miles or so of this.¡±

    ¡°Hope so,¡± Montgomery replied, eyes fixed ahead as he steered the ship. Jonathan strolled out of the bridge and went up one deck, finding Antomine in the observation room. His guards were, as usual, not in evidence, as they seemed to spend all their time in their own rooms. Marie was seated there as well, repairing some clothing with needle and thread.

    ¡°We need to expect creatures coming down from above us,¡± Jonathan said without preamble. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if they can damage the envelope but it¡¯s best to be ready to deal with them.¡±

    ¡°It is times like this that I am more than satisfied with my decision to arm the Endeavor with better cannon,¡± Antomine said, but Jonathan ignored the barb. They had already seen that the most potent dangers in the darkness were those that could not be met with force of arms.

    ¡°I will fetch Eleanor,¡± Marie said, putting her sewing aside and gliding smoothly out of the observation room. Jonathan saw that Antomine didn¡¯t give her more than a casual glance, despite Marie moving with the sort of grace that ought to have fixed the eye of any man of Antomine¡¯s age. Like Jonathan, Antomine was a man compelled by secret knowledge, whatever had been revealed to him to make him an inquisitor.

    ¡°So have you any idea what they are?¡± Antomine said idly, standing up and picking up his hat from where it lay next to his chair. ¡°You have been through here before, yes?¡±

    ¡°Not this way,¡± Jonathan said grimly, pausing at the door to his cabin. ¡°I wish I knew everything east of the Verdant Expanse, but there is too much, and some of it you will never encounter more than once. But I¡¯ve learned to trust my gut, and I don¡¯t like what I saw.¡±

    ¡°Reasonable enough,¡± Antomine said, and continued on to get his guards. Jonathan stepped into his cabin to retrieve his rifle and pistol, checking the ampoules to ensure they were fully charged before continuing to the above-deck hatch. He couldn¡¯t even tell that it had been replaced, save for a few scuff marks.

    Stepping outside, the towers seemed even more claustrophobically close, and the wind carried a strange and sour scent like that of rot. Looking up at where the swivel lights cast illumination on stone projections above, it was clear how close some of the formations came to the envelope. Blue zint-light pulsed as the engines flared, struggling to keep the ship level and stable against the unpredictable currents gusting through the gaps.

    The rock surfaces were corrugated and contorted, ridges coming to gleaming points and forming suggestions of some great and grotesque pattern. From the narrow glimpses, confined to the points where spotlights found rock, it was impossible to tell whether the design was the work of malevolent natural fortuity or some ancient and twisted hand. The sound of the wind blowing through these rippled surfaces formed a soft susurration of half-formed whispers, plucking at the mind yet refusing to congeal.

    Eleanor came through the hatch only moments after him, hatless, her long red hair blowing in the wind. She was followed by the maids, all three women bearing pistols, and then a moment later they were joined by Antomine¡¯s guards while the inquisitor himself remained below. Jonathan braced himself with his cane as the ship lurched, engines and wings gimballing to veer away from yet another sharp-edged spire of stone looming out of the dark.

    As if cued by the motion, the chase gun at the bow of the ship opened up, the staccato flashing illuminating an arch above as the gunner walked his fire over a sizeable overhang. Pale corpses dropped from a seething mass that reminded Jonathan of a nest of spiders before the group splintered. The forms scampered out of the spotlights, moving smoothly over the more-than-vertical rock.

    ¡°That looked like people,¡± Eleanor said, voice holding an odd note.

    ¡°There are no people out here,¡± Jonathan said firmly. ¡°No matter what they look like.¡± There were creatures, and things, and beasts, but not people. He had learned that long ago.

    ¡°Starboard,¡± Sarah said suddenly in warning, and Jonathan turned, shifting his rifle to aim at the shadows that could be seen crawling down the nearest stone tower. His shots were joined by ones from James and John, punching holes in a half-dozen of the things that had been crawling down toward the ship. They wailed and slipped and fell, plunging far, far downward where the mist boiled up eagerly to meet them.

    The sound of impacts came from above, along with the screeching of metal. Eleanor looked upward to the envelope and vanished. A few moments later several corpses plummeted from above, landing with unpleasantly wet crunches on the deck with dark blood leaking from holes punched precisely through hearts.

    The creatures were grotesque and twisted mockeries of proper human form, each one stretched and distorted as toys of some cruel child. Neither dignity nor humanity remained in the tormented figures, whose flesh and bone were bent and twisted into new and appalling function. Yet in defiance of the revolting desecration of the body, they still wore scraps and tatters of clothes, some of them recognizable as drastically frayed and faded airman¡¯s uniforms, or dresses long out of fashion.

    ¡°I thought you said there were no people out here,¡± Eleanor said accusingly, returning to scowl at the horrendous corpses.

    ¡°There surely are not,¡± Jonathan said with grim certainty. ¡°I have no idea who these things may have once been, or where they came from, but they aren¡¯t people anymore.¡±

    As if summoned by the revelation, or perhaps merely watching or listening from a safe vantage, Antomine emerged from the hatch. The broad brim of his hat flopped in the wind but it stayed firmly on his head as he approached one of the bodies. The young man evinced no distaste for the corpse, deformed even though it was, as he inspected the clothing remnants, the dark blood, and the sallow skin.

    ¡°Samson¡¯s Redoubt,¡± Antomine said, holding a ragged patch of insignia between finger and thumb. ¡°Vanished two hundred years ago. How did these poor souls get here?¡±

    ¡°I doubt we¡¯ll ever know,¡± Jonathan said, eyes focused on the razor-edged stone drifting far too close for comfort. ¡°Or that we¡¯d want to.¡± The whispering wind seemed to peak for a moment, and the spotlights caught a milling nest of hundreds, maybe even thousands of the former people on a rock face ahead of them. The decayed and decrepit edges of buildings broke the disturbing whorls and patterns in the stone; part of a city somehow transplanted into the side of the spire.

    ¡°This is blasphemous,¡± Antomine said in a hard voice, his white-pupiled eyes flashing. He straightened up and vanished back down the hatchway along with one of his guards, leaving them with one fewer defender on the deck. Eleanor snorted.

    ¡°That was useful,¡± she said bitingly, readying her daggers once again as more of the creatures crawled into the spotlights and toward the Endeavor. The deck lurched as the ship suddenly surged upward, Montgomery clearly having spotted the nest and not wanting to risk passing below it. It was too close to avoid entirely, but if they had hundreds of the things crawling over the Endeavor, Jonathan doubted the ship would survive.

    Everyone winced at the sound of screeching metal as more landed on the envelope, somewhere out of sight, and Eleanor growled something under her breath. Several of the former humans thudded onto the deck, and Jonathan hurriedly aimed his rifle to remove them before they could crawl down and make trouble among the crew. He only managed to pick off two more of the creatures before the ampoule ran dry, so he unsheathed his cane, holding the blade in one hand and his pistol in the other.

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    He rushed at the nearest abomination and, considering the proximity of others nearby, simply disposed of it by kicking it with a meaty crunch and sending it hurtling over the side. Several of the creatures lurched at him as the first one plummeted into the depths below, horrible long fingers reaching. Judging from the sounds of tortured metal, there was a hideous strength in those fragile-seeming digits, making Jonathan focus on keeping them away with his sword as he discharged the zint pistol at point-blank range.

    Antomine¡¯s second guard, the one who had remained behind, plied his baton with near-inhuman strength, sending attackers flying off the side of the deck with clockwork regularity. The two maids worked in familiar concert to keep themselves from being flanked, keeping their backs to the metal spine of the ship where the envelope joined the deck. For several long moments the sounds of combat rose over the whispering wind; the hum of zint discharge, the wet and slithering sounds of metal impaling flesh, the crack of bones and the thump of boots.

    A deeper, louder zint hum suddenly rose from somewhere below, rising up and up in pitch and frequency in a way Jonathan had never heard before. Something about it set his teeth on edge and he took several steps away from the edge, disengaging from one of his opponents and squeezing off the last shot in his pistol¡¯s ampoule. His sword, already shed of its blood, swung wide to sever an arm and draw a horrible noise from a snaggle-toothed mouth.

    ¡°Brace!¡± He warned, steading his stance. He didn¡¯t know what was going on, but his gut warned him to watch his footing. He couldn¡¯t tell if Eleanor had heard him, from where she was upon the envelope, but there was no time to check. One of the Endeavor¡¯s cannons lit off, the zint blaze like a stroke of lightning before a beam of solid light lanced out and into the column of stone supporting the lost settlement.

    The zint discharge swiveled as whoever was manning the cannon hauled it across, the terrible coruscating light cutting straight through the stone. Jonathan cursed as the enormous section of stone, rising up far beyond sight, began a slow and stately topple. Antomine ¨C for such a discharge could only have been his work ¨C had at least had the foresight to angle the cut such that it fell away from the ship, but the cracking and groaning foretold the cataclysm to result from its collapse.

    Endeavor¡¯s engines surged, powering them forward as Montgomery threw caution to the wind and veered into the forest of spires. The creaking and groaning of the toppling tower grew ever louder even as they fled it, the ship barely missing some of the other columns that appeared in the forward lights. Jonathan took a half-step back as a shelf of corrugated stone swept by barely a hands-breath from the deck, ripping a section of rail from the edge with a harsh metallic snarl.

    A hoarse shout came from below, and Jonathan glanced around. Judging the upper deck secure enough, he ducked back through the hatch and slithered down the stairwell. The gun emplacements dotted the mid deck, and sounds of a struggle came from the stern chase gun. A zint gun flashed, and Jonathan arrived to find one of the creatures lying dead, a terrified airman, and a damaged chase gun. A minor incident, considering, but there were only so many spares for the gun, and with Antomine below-decks he really should have been taking care of such things.

    The ship continued to jolt and sway as the cracking and booming of the falling stone built to a crescendo, a roar that vibrated the decking underfoot. The wind from the impact of the collapse swept over the Endeavor, the final cry of something dark and terrible that made the lights gutter as candles in the wind. Metal groaned and creaked from the force of it while the ship lifted and spun like a cork in a river, and Jonathan was forced to grip a holdfast while the airman clung to the rail. The corpse flopped over and fell into blackness, along with the airman¡¯s hat.

    Shrapnel smashed into columns both near and far away, and flying fragments pinged off the hull despite the distance. Jonathan pulled the airman inside, then staggered around the mid deck to ensure there were no other intruders still holding on. When he spotted Antomine, looking bedraggled for the first time since Jonathan had met him and coming the opposite way, Jonathan planted himself in the inquisitor¡¯s way.

    ¡°What were you thinking?¡± Jonathan demanded in a low growl, even as the ship¡¯s engines continued to labor to keep it from slamming into unyielding stone. ¡°You could have killed us all.¡±

    ¡°Would we have fared any better if that number of lost souls swarmed us?¡± Antomine returned, straightening up and squaring his shoulders. ¡°And perhaps it does not matter to you, but putting them to rest was the right thing to do. The Inquisition was created to deal with such terrible things. Unless you wish to tell the crew you wanted to leave them to suffer because of cowardice?¡±

    ¡°We can be circumspect without backing into cowardice,¡± Jonathan said coldly, dark eyes fixed on Antomine¡¯s own pale ones. ¡°We are lucky we survived that ¡ª and there is no telling what you might have stirred. Or do you think that some displaced survivors are the only things inhabiting this stone forest?¡± Antomine¡¯s eyes flickered uncertainty, then he shook his head.

    ¡°There is no point in avoiding a current trouble for fear of an unknown future one.¡± Antomine frowned at him and James ¨C or perhaps it was John ¨C emerged from one of the gunports to join Antomine, standing tall in implicit threat. Jonathan did still have his sword out, and while he simmered with fury at Antomine¡¯s recklessness, he was forced to concede this was not the best time for it.

    ¡°I hope for your sake those above were able to weather the jostling,¡± he said instead, and that got Antomine¡¯s attention. The inquisitor frowned and pushed his way past Jonathan, who let the young man go. Antomine could see to Eleanor¡¯s disposition. The guard brushed silently by in Antomine¡¯s wake, and Jonathan frowned after them before sheathing his gleaming clean sword-cane and heading to the bridge to ascertain the status of the ship. By the time he made it, Endeavor had steadied somewhat, though the moment he stepped through the door the ship made another lurching dive to avoid a bizarre spiderweb of arches just ahead, pointed spines of rock creating a narrow maze of passages.

    There, Montgomery and his helmsmen snapped orders and bearings in a tense silence, one Jonathan dared not interrupt. It was only when the forward spotlights found the jagged tops of far shorter stone columns, signaling the end of the stone forest, that Montgomery deigned to notice him. The weathered captain blotted sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief and beckoned him in.

    ¡°Reminds me of Gillar¡¯s Folly,¡± Montgomery said conversationally and, considering that was where Endeavor had been previously turned into near-scrap, it was no praise. ¡°Come on in, Mister Heights.¡± Without even pausing he glanced at the control console and continued speaking. ¡°Envelope¡¯s leaking. Connor, take three men with flight suits for repair.¡±

    ¡°Sir,¡± said one of the airmen, saluting and hurrying out of the bridge. Jonathan glanced after him and then strode to Montgomery¡¯s side, looking out over the landscape revealed by the Endeavor¡¯s lights. A long slope stretched ahead of them, covered in virulent red creepers that slowly writhed in the light. Jonathan¡¯s map had the area marked as a mostly barren expanse, sweeping up to an eye-rending symbol due east ¡ª a place to avoid at all costs. Something easier said than done, for the very land contorted itself around the terrible ancient ruins there.

    ¡°I hope you have some place we can tether,¡± Montgomery said, removing his pipe from his jacket pocket. A match flared and he puffed smoke. ¡°We need to assess the damage and make repairs. And think about finding one of the terrestrite veins you have marked here. No telling how much lift gas we¡¯ve lost.¡±

    Jonathan studied the map, pinned on the huge board at the navigator¡¯s station. Straight line distance was not the only consideration, as hazardous terrain, uncooperative winds, and terrifying denizens all made for complex navigation. His map had been created from journeys on foot, which was a different proposition from the air, and he certain hadn¡¯t intended to stop in the area. Yet only a fool would think that plans would go unchallenged by the vagaries of the world.

    ¡°Here, I believe,¡± Jonathan said after a moment, tapping a small symbol that was uncomfortably far south from their original line of travel. ¡°We can reach this and still make it to the Trembling Valley without wasting too much time.¡±

    ¡°How the hell are we supposed to find it?¡± Jameson muttered, looking in dismay at where the terrestrite vein was surrounded by flat nothing.

    ¡°It¡¯s exposed. We¡¯ll spot the glow,¡± Jonathan told him, and Jameson nodded understanding. They didn¡¯t need to navigate by landmarks if the vein itself was a landmark, though being the only source of light in the area led to its own problems. He had skirted it the last time he was there, but the only other options were unacceptably far away ¡ª or unacceptably close to the lethal ruins.

    Montgomery gave orders and the ship began to turn, adjusting to its new heading. Jonathan left them to it, habitually brushing off the sleeves of his suit before returning to the deck above and finding out what had become of Eleanor. He very much doubted something so simple as an unsteady ship would inconvenience her, and indeed he could hear her voice berating Antomine long before he reached the observation room.

    A glance showed that all the passengers were there and none had been flung off during the rough handling, though to judge by Eleanor¡¯s tirade it had not been pleasant. Sarah and Marie both looked somewhat ruffled, even if neither of Antomine¡¯s guards looked particularly put out. Behind their faceless masks, Antomine¡¯s guards might well have been just as irritated, but it was impossible to tell and they certainly did not say.

    Jonathan didn¡¯t interrupt as he walked in, leaning on his cane while Antomine faced Eleanor with a sour expression. The young inquisitor took the reprimand with good enough grace, at least up to a point. But he clearly wasn¡¯t abashed enough to take the lash of Eleanor¡¯s tongue for long.

    ¡°Enough,¡± he said, voice hard as he interrupted Eleanor mid-word. ¡°I will admit that the consequences were more energetic than I imagined, but I stand by it. We could not have fought everything, and there were no casualties.¡± Antomine looked Jonathan¡¯s way. ¡°You said yourself that it is not safe out here. These are simply the risks we have to take.¡±

    ¡°It is not that simple.¡± Jonathan frowned at Antomine and planted his cane on the floor, resting both hands atop it. ¡°None of us obey the other; there are no chains of command between us. Nor would any of us agree to such a thing. Should one of us decide on something drastic, we must convey that with absolute clarity.¡± Jonathan¡¯s dark eyes blazed at them, the sunlight in his soul granting him perfect confidence. ¡°Otherwise we risk the expedition. I will not have that.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t¡ª¡± Eleanor began, then faltered under the cold edge of Jonathan¡¯s regard. Antomine returned Jonathan¡¯s gaze for a moment, but he too was forced to avert his eyes, naked threat hanging in the air.

    ¡°Neither of you share my goal. That does not bother me.¡± Jonathan spoke in cool, precise words, dispassionately watching the pair and their attendant guards. ¡°I will even help you achieve your own ends, within reason, and I will understand when you are forced to pursue unorthodox solutions. But if you endanger us through carelessness you will walk back to Beacon.¡± He surveyed the two of them and decided that was sufficient threat. Neither of them needed to be told the consequences for threatening the expedition by design.

    ¡°The Endeavor will be proceeding to a zint deposit on the map, to refuel and ensure we are properly repaired,¡± Jonathan continued. ¡°This is not part of our plotted course, so I am less acquainted with what might be there than other places so far. I expect both of you to be very wary of whatever else we may find.¡± There was little he could do to hold Antomine to account unless he was willing to remove the man entirely, and unfortunately Antomine¡¯s talents were still quite valuable.

    ¡°Mister Inquisitor can stand guard, I¡¯m sure,¡± Eleanor said scornfully. Antomine frowned but inclined his head, briefly hiding his eyes behind the broad brim of his hat.

    Jonathan returned to his cabin, digging through his crates for supplies that he hadn¡¯t anticipated using quite so soon. He would be getting fire dust from the hold, of course, but the black market had allow him to create various instruments before leaving Beacon. They were modeled from the lost and obscure technologies he had glimpsed on his travels, their original purposes unknown but he had no doubt as to their efficacy. He set aside a series of metal stakes, shaped into unsettling totems; a stick of peculiar incense composed of ingredients smuggled in from the Invidus Croft; a waxed bronze plaque with an inscription in a tongue even Jonathan couldn¡¯t read.

    None if it would stop a truly determined threat, but any single one would at least discourage curious wildlife. The inevitably obvious process of extracting and refining zint was bound to draw some attention, which was what the tripod-mounted rotary weapons packed into the hold were for, but the fewer encounters the better. Together, the occult tools he had created to shield the Endeavor might well allow them a reasonable peace as they attended to the ship¡¯s needs ¡ª assuming the men could deal with the oddness such items produced.

    A long, low call of some wild beast suddenly sounded from outside the ship, and Jonathan hastened to the observation deck to see the bioluminescent flickering of something massive off to starboard. The rippling blue-green only hinted at a shape of breathtaking size, and the spotlights helped not at all since, large as it was, it was still too far away to illuminate. Only one enormous fin emerged, at least the size of the Endeavor by itself, and with a flick propelled the enormous thing away ¡ª and sent the ship listing with the mere wind of its passage.

    ¡°That is why we must be cautious,¡± Jonathan told a gobsmacked Eleanor, still looking out the windows despite the shape being far out of sight. ¡°The vast spaces this far east breed vast creatures. It takes more than swords and guns to stave them off.¡±

    ¡°I can see that!¡± Eleanor scowled and took a long drag on her cigarette. Privately, Jonathan did not know the identity of the thing either, but there was more in the world than anyone could dream, let alone know.

    The terrain slid past underneath as they went south, red creeper turning into silver and gold leaves plastered against the ground, interrupted by glittering metallic gourds. On occasion, one of the oversized fruits rocked alarmingly under the lights, a restive stirring that fortunately never went anywhere. On two separate occasions the crew were forced to fend off flying things, large pestiferous beasts attracted to the ship¡¯s lights, though none of them near the size of the leviathan that had appeared outside of the forest of stone columns.

    It took three days, during which the airmen patched the worst of the leaks and covered punctures in the wings and vanes. Most of the damage was to the envelope and steering surfaces, while the engines had made it completely unscathed ¡ª as well they should, considering what he had paid for them. Other purchases seemed to have been made more in vain, as the need for repairs uncovered that entire crates of tools and supplies were empty. Jonathan didn¡¯t know exactly where along the line the embezzlement had occurred, but it hardly mattered when the result was the same. There was significantly less in the way of replacement parts than anticipated.

    It changed little in the immediate term, but it did mean he would have consider how to replenish some of those stocks in the middle of the wilderness. Especially since by the time the dull glow of terrestrite appeared ahead of them, they had amassed a long list of required items that would rather challenging to acquire so far out. Yet when they neared the terrestrite vein, it became clear that the difficulties would be different than the ones he had anticipated. The Endeavor¡¯s spotlights shone not on rock and brush and wild fastness, but on rumbling machinery, suspiciously new and gleaming. As they drew closer, lights of a town shone from the darkness, and the trappings of human infrastructure; walls, tall and white; mooring towers, sturdy and solid; streets, busy and bright.

    So far from human lands, an impossible flame of civilization shone in the wildness of the dark.

 Chapter Twelve

    ¡°So is it real?¡± Montgomery asked, frowning through the front window of the bridge. The lights of the mooring towers winked an inviting green, showing they were open and ready to receive ships, and a simple spyglass showed human figures moving around. The Endeavor¡¯s arrival hadn¡¯t gone unnoticed, and the port was clearly preparing for it to dock.

    ¡°It is real,¡± Jonathan said with certainty. He could tell it was no illusion, though he didn¡¯t believe it was in any way genuine. A clean, bright, well-featured town didn¡¯t spring up in the middle of nowhere in just a few years, especially with no hint of such an undertaking in Beacon.

    ¡°Perhaps it is real, but it cannot be legitimate,¡± Antomine said, hands clasped behind his back and eyes narrowed as he looked out at the clean stone and bright-burning lamps. ¡°From whence came these people and these supplies? A settlement is no small undertaking, much less one where every pound of metal and stone would have to be ferried out by airship.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± Montgomery said, tamping down his pipe and striking a match. He began puffing as it slowly lit, regarding the impossible town warily. The Endeavor held its position, its approach held in abeyance until a decision could be made. ¡°The thing is, we need the zint and the lifting gas. I don¡¯t think we have any choice but to stop here, but how safe is it?¡±

    ¡°Mister Heights?¡± Antomine said, deferring to Jonathan¡¯s judgement.

    ¡°As you say, we have little choice,¡± Jonathan replied, drumming his fingers on the head of his cane. ¡°Trying to reach any of the other options would bring us dangerously low on our distilled terrestrite stock, correct?¡± Jonathan raised his brows at Montgomery, who nodded gravely. ¡°Then we will simply have to resupply from whatever this is. We will be careful, we will be watchful, and we will inspect everything. But unless this is another cultist haven, it is a less certain risk than moving on.¡±

    ¡°Mister Antomine, Mister Heights, I would ask that you appraise the situation before I let any of my crew go a-land,¡± Montgomery said somberly. ¡°This is beyond our ken.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll go too,¡± Eleanor volunteered, and Jonathan nodded as he knew her methods of inquiry would be far different than his own.

    ¡°Certainly,¡± Jonathan conceded. ¡°Have you ever used a flight suit, Mister Antomine?¡±

    ¡°Not for some time,¡± Antomine said, breaking out into a youthful smile. ¡°But I can manage.¡±

    Jonathan had a low opinion of flight suits, despite them being necessary on an airship and the only way to descend without bringing the ship unacceptably close. Nevertheless, he descended to the lower deck and put one on, noting in passing that the particular model was clearly taken from the mercenaries rather than being of the Endeavor¡¯s original complement. Jonathan ensured the winged oversuit did not muss his usual attire, and checked the control wire where it hooked through the flight suit¡¯s sleeve, before turning to check on Antomine. Eleanor hadn¡¯t taken a flight suit, but Jonathan was certain she would use her own particular talents to get around.

    With Antomine¡¯s strange eyes hidden behind the goggles, the man looked even younger than usual. His face was eager, and he didn¡¯t hesitate to step out of the door. Jonathan followed, arms spread so the fabric caught the wind, the zint engine on his back supplying enough lift to keep him from simply plummeting through the air. The two of them zipped downward to the mooring towers, landing at the base of large building where the dockmaster would be.

    The people Jonathan saw in passing seemed entirely normal, possibly suspiciously so. They looked clean, happy, and healthy under the abundant zint light, lifting hands to wave at the pair of them. All of them were engaged in their labors, going about the business of maintenance and repair even if the Endeavor was the only ship currently in port. Carriages rattled across the smooth flagstones of the bright and tidy streets, and the city itself carried none of the stench of some of the less civilized settlements. It was withal a most pleasant town, and so disturbed Jonathan all the more.

    By the time they landed, the portmaster had stepped out to greet them. He was a mountain of a man, both tall and wide, straining the seams of his uniform and beaming at them from a face creased with a lifetime of ebullience. His voice as he offered his hand was gruff but friendly, the rough burr of a long-time smoker.

    ¡°Welcome to Terminus, travelers!¡± He smiled and shook Jonathan¡¯s hand, then Antomine¡¯s, grip firm without being crushing. ¡°That ship of yours is beautiful! Feel free to moor it anywhere, you can be sure we¡¯ll take good care of it! Oh, but let me introduce myself. I¡¯m Connor Freeman, portmaster here in Terminus. Whom do I have the honor of addressing?¡±

    Jonathan let Antomine handle the introductions, focusing instead on trying to find anything that might betray the true nature of Terminus. The zint mining operation in the distance rattled and clanked faintly; distilling equipment thrummed. Voices rose and fell as people talked, and in the distance, someone laughed, joyful and carefree. There was absolutely nothing that prickled his instincts, and that alone was enough to worry him.

    ¡°Exactly how long ago was Terminus founded, Mister Freeman?¡± Antomine asked, and the portmaster laughed.

    ¡°Before my time, I can tell you that!¡± Connor¡¯s smile didn¡¯t waver in the slightest. ¡°But we¡¯re up to date, I can assure you.¡± He slapped the side of the port building affectionately. ¡°Don¡¯t you worry, we ought to be able to handle most any repairs or supplies you need. We pride ourselves on our hospitality out here. Good, honest folk ought to be a light for others, after all!¡±

    Jonathan met Antomine¡¯s eyes, and the inquisitor simply nodded. Neither of them could detect the slightest trace of falsehood in word or deed, and while Jonathan was certainly not comfortable with the place, there was nothing that presented a reason to leave. Nothing save for its sheer impossibility, though in the east what might be considered possible or not was more fluid than within the walls of Beacon.

    ¡°I suppose we should signal Captain Montgomery to dock,¡± Jonathan said, reluctant more because he found no reason to avoid it. He did not believe that Terminus was without blemish, yet there was no sight nor sound nor smell of anything untoward. Antomine seemed similarly reluctant, but was forced to agree.

    ¡°Do you take gold in payment?¡± Antomine asked, and the portmaster snorted.

    ¡°Of course we do! We¡¯re not savages out here.¡± Connor shook his big head at the question. ¡°I¡¯ll give you a fair price, too, no gouging. Better than you¡¯d get from most places, eh?¡± He laughed again and waved up at the Endeavor, which was primarily visible by her spotlights. ¡°We¡¯ve got plenty of lifting gas and terrestrite for the tanks, don¡¯t you worry.¡±

    Jonathan removed the beam-lantern from where it was clipped to his flight suit and ensured the lens was flipped to green, then raised it in the Endeavor¡¯s direction and flashed it several times. After perhaps thirty seconds of wait, the Endeavor¡¯s own lights flashed once in reply, and the engines glowed as Montgomery began maneuvering it into port. Connor watched with interest and then clapped Antomine on the shoulder before opening the door to the office.

    ¡°Come on, we¡¯ll get your docking information taken care of and then you can relax. Believe me, you¡¯ll like Terminus. Maybe you¡¯ll even stay!¡±

    Jonathan looked sharply at that last sentence, but Connor just had guileless goodwill and pride in his town. Despite his misgivings, Jonathan allowed himself to be ushered inside, into a clean, neat, and organized office, where Connor slid a ledger over for Jonathan to sign. There were other entries in it, in different hands bearing different ship names, but none that he recognized. Connor took Jonathan¡¯s Beacon-minted coins without a qualm, and showed them to the paternoster while extolling the sights and attractions of Terminus.

    They rode the lift to the Endeavor¡¯s level as airmen drew in the tether lines and fixed the ship in place, unfurling the rope bridge to connect the ship to the pylon. The dock workers all looked perfectly ordinary, wearing coarse overalls and hauling lines with calloused hands. Jonathan crossed the gangplank back to the bottom deck and shucked the flight suit with relief, handing it off to one of the airmen and retrieving his cane. Montgomery arrived as Jonathan was adjusting his suit, brushing off the cuffs and straightening his tie.

    ¡°Well? What¡¯s it like out there?¡±

    ¡°There is nothing untoward about anything we saw,¡± Antomine admitted. ¡°I would not yet suggest shore leave, not until we spend some time examining the rest of the town.¡±

    ¡°I can give you maybe a day on that,¡± Montgomery said, glancing past them to the brightly lit, clean, and enticing settlement. ¡°The men realize that something¡¯s off here, but given the last couple weeks they¡¯re going to want some time on the ground.¡±

    ¡°Once Eleanor returns, I suspect you¡¯ll have your answer,¡± Jonathan said, following Montgomery¡¯s gaze. ¡°Though as Antomine said, we found nothing suspicious.¡±

    ¡°So what¡¯s the catch?¡± Montgomery wondered aloud.

    ¡°That is the question,¡± Jonathan admitted. ¡°Let us take advantage of what hospitality we may in order to repair and refresh ourselves. I will attempt to find what dangers may lurk here in Terminus, but I advise you to be ready for anything.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Montgomery said, chewing on the word, and turned to give orders. Jonathan returned to his quarters to retrieve additional liquid funds ¨C he was beginning to run quite short, having not anticipated needing actual currency so far east ¨C and fetch his hat. The implements he had retrieved for the ship¡¯s defense were still on his desk, not needed for the task. He considered them for a moment, tapping his cane in thought, then left them as he returned to the lower deck.

    Jonathan nodded to the airman posted at the exit and returned to the paternoster, waiting for a platform and stepping on. Antomine and Eleanor could be relied upon to investigate certain aspects, but he needed to see the town for himself. That nothing about it disturbed his gut or raised his suspicions was, itself, so suspicious that he felt compelled to investigate further. If there was something that threatened the expedition, he needed to know.

    Stepping out onto the streets of Terminus, Jonathan began to walk in toward the city center, cane tapping on the stone streets and eyes sharp. Bright green and blue vines climbed the lampposts, meticulously trimmed and lending a bright splash of color to the grey-white stone of the town. Small engravings hung from each lamppost, proclaiming street names or simply bearing a carving of a few buildings with the town¡¯s name below.

    Other pedestrians nodded politely, or even smiled and waved, and once or twice he stood aside to let a family past, the gaggle of children surrounding their parents. The sight struck him strongly, reminding him of days with his father in a time before long expeditions. He had never quite managed time for a family of his own ¡ª but he shook of those thoughts and moved on.

    More signs hung from buildings, proclaiming shops and businesses, each one the work of a clever hand.  All sorts were represented, from clothing and cigars to newspapers and candies.   He paused at a bookshop, recalling the oddities he¡¯d found in Danner¡¯s Grasp, and after a moment stepped inside.

    ¡°Welcome!¡± The shopkeeper was a young man, with tousled hair and a groomed goatee, eyes bright and curious as he looked up from the book he was perusing. The interior smelled of leather and canvas without any of the must or dust of poorly kept books, and the shelves that lined the walls were neat and organized. ¡°You must be with that ship that just came in,¡± the shopkeeper continued, marking his place with a bookmark and setting the tome aside. ¡°Is there anything I can help you find?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps,¡± Jonathan admitted, finding himself almost disturbed by the normality of it all, but intrigued by what Terminus had to offer. ¡°Is there anything unusual, that might only be found here? Either about Terminus itself, or this area. We¡¯re from far enough west that we don¡¯t know much about the local area,¡± he said, testing what response that might get.

    ¡°Oh, a scholar!¡± The shopkeep bustled out from behind the counter and over to the far wall. The spines of books there were in a multitude of languages, not all of which Jonathan understood, but the shopkeep selected several in a more common tongue and held them out for Jonathan to take. ¡°I suspect you¡¯ll find these of interest, good sir,¡± he said.

    Jonathan took them and examined the covers. One was a brief history of Terminus, another was titled Ruins of the Choroid Wastes. The third was a language primer for several tongues Jonathan had seen before, but only in fragments. He flipped through them briefly, finding that each of them was clearly printed, the author¡¯s style clearly understandable and thus unlike so many of the books Jonathan had been forced to rely on throughout his life.

    He paid a small handful of silver for the tomes and the shopkeep tied them in a bundle with twine. Jonathan exited the bookstore with a strange sense of familiarity, one hand on his cane and the other holding onto the twine. The entire experience hearkened strongly back to younger days when he was just exploring the secrets and histories, delving into forgotten stacks in hopes of finding some elusive hint. It was a reminisce powerful enough to make him pause for a moment ¡ª then the sunlight burning in his soul reminded him how hollow such things were in comparison.

    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    A woman walking some furry pet with six tiny legs and six gormless eyes circled around him with a haughty sniff, clearly irritated by his form impeding her path. Jonathan watched her go and hefted the books thoughtfully, continuing along the streets of Terminus. He knew there was something dangerous about, yet he failed to find any hint of it.

    For a time he simply wandered through brightly-lit streets, peering into alleys and windows and finding only what would be expected from a small town close to Beacon. There were people happy and sad, and the occasional drunkard, but order was well kept and the city was clean. The clocks began to chime the hour in ragged chorus, announcing the end of the day. Yet every slice of friendly normalcy only convinced him further that whatever was lurking in Terminus was more subtle and terrible than he had imagined.

    By the time he returned to the ship, nothing had revealed itself but mundane, safe, and innocent streets. He misliked every inch of it, but there was no detail he could point to that was even slightly threatening ¡ª save for the sheer impossibility of its existence to begin with. The crew was staring longingly down at the clean streets with taverns and inns and ¨C no doubt ¨C brothels, while Montgomery waited for him to permit them leave. Something that was a foregone conclusion as Jonathan had returned unmolested and burdened with his purchases.

    ¡°I can¡¯t see any reason you can¡¯t offer shore leave,¡± Jonathan said, somewhat reluctantly. ¡°Perhaps Antomine or Eleanor will gainsay me, but I cannot find a single thing wrong with the town.¡±

    ¡°You hear that?¡± Montgomery admonished the crew. ¡°Safe but this isn¡¯t a home port. No wandering off by yourself and report in if there¡¯s any trouble, even a bar brawl.¡± That was good enough for the airmen who weren¡¯t involved in the repair operations, and soon enough several of them vanished out into the port. Jonathan left Montgomery to the business of resupply and returned to the upper deck with his prizes.

    He was still going through the weighty tomes when Antomine returned, looking thoughtful. The young inquisitor stood at the windows of the observation room, looking out over Terminus, and said nothing for a long while. Jonathan let him take his time, taking notes from the linguistic codex and filling the silence with the gentle scratching of a pen.

    ¡°It¡¯s not even too perfect,¡± Antomine said at length. ¡°I was expecting that, were this some grand play, that it would lack all the flaws and imperfections that mark real people and real places. It is a good settlement, to the point where it could practically rival Beacon, yet it isn¡¯t perfect. Pleasant, but not unrealistic.¡± He wrinkled his nose. ¡°The local branch of the Inquisition is even fairly up-to-date and, so far as I can tell, attentive to their duties.¡±

    ¡°S¡¯probably nicer than Beacon,¡± Eleanor said, striding into the observation room. ¡°Less of an underworld. No Reflected Council to tell me what to do.¡±

    ¡°I am worried that we are not seeing the catch,¡± Jonathan said, marking his place and looking up from his book. ¡°We can rest and resupply here, but what is the hidden cost?¡±

    ¡°Is it possible it¡¯s just some lost settlement?¡± Eleanor asked. ¡°Like, we did just run across a city that somehow got transported out here and, sure, the people didn¡¯t really survive it. Maybe this one is different.¡±

    ¡°That is exceedingly unlikely,¡± Antomine said, turning from the view to look at Eleanor. ¡°What hand, spending the effort to extract a small town intact and ensure there are no records of its existence, would not then bend that town to its own purposes? What force that could shelter people this far into the fastness of the east would do so without demanding payment?¡±

    ¡°Right, well, hard to argue with that,¡± Eleanor said after a considering pause. ¡°Still, I vote we enjoy it while we can. If we¡¯re here we¡¯re going to run into the problem, or we won¡¯t, and either way we might as well take advantage of what¡¯s on offer.¡±

    ¡°I hope to not be here long,¡± Jonathan replied tersely, but didn¡¯t object. So long as Eleanor¡¯s indulgences didn¡¯t delay or stymie them, they were none of his business.

    ¡°Best to make of it what we can, with much further we have to go,¡± Antomine said to Jonathan as he considered the town below. ¡°Everything we can get here preserves our supplies.¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Jonathan said, though the very nature of a friendly port so far out undercut his warnings and his preparations, eroding his authority. It was far harder to convince men to press on despite the risks when safety was right behind them, rather than hundreds of miles away. That every being and every place was suspect, when there were families happily walking about.

    ¡°Speaking of which, I¡¯m going to go enjoy one of those caf¨¦s I saw,¡± Eleanor said, turning and giving them a languid parting wave. ¡°You can have rations if you want.¡± Which was hardly fair, as they¡¯d been dining better than most in Beacon on the bounty of the Verdant Expanse, but it was true that shipboard options were limited.

    Jonathan watched her go with some misgivings. Her safety was not at risk, considering her talents, but he was far from certain about her judgement in a place like Terminus. Trying to actually curtail her behavior without any imminent threat was doomed to failure, so he was forced to leave her to her own devices.

    Antomine took his leave soon after, and Jonathan spent some admittedly restful time concentrated on his tomes, like he had when he was a younger man. The familiarity in studying and translating a lost language, something spoken so long ago even the cities had crumbled to dust, distracted from the uncertainty of their port. Yet one day stretched into two, then three, as repairs were made and purchases brought aboard.

    Airmen and passengers alike spent time on the streets of Terminus, but every time Jonathan stepped out of the ship he found himself more frustrated. There was not one single dark secret or threatening shadow that he could unearth, as if the entire town was constructed solely to prove him wrong about the nature of the world. He hadn¡¯t even noticed any wildlife nearby, despite the titans that ruled the region being far too large and powerful to care about avoiding a human settlement.

    Were he capable of seeing things in shadows, Jonathan was certain he would be. The enforced peace and friendliness grated at his nerves, the call of sunlight sending him out of the ship on restless feet. His patience frayed simply from anticipating something that refused to happen. Despite the time he spent wandering the town, the force behind it failed to reveal itself.

    ¡°Glad to see your face again!¡± The friendly shopkeeper at the bookstore said when Jonathan found himself inside once more. ¡°Not many people are interested in the properly esoteric stuff, so it¡¯s nice to have a customer who is.¡± Before Jonathan had even asked he¡¯d bustled out from behind the counter to open the locked cabinets at the rear of the store. ¡°Do you think you¡¯ll be staying?¡±

    The question made Jonathan stop in his tracks, hand tightening on his cane. Then he turned and left the store, leaving the bewildered shopkeeper behind as he marched back toward the port and the Endeavor¡¯s bulk moored at the masts. He half expected to be intercepted, the force of his conviction feeling like a physical thing crackling behind him, but the populace of Terminus evinced no more perception for the occult than most citizen of Beacon.

    He waited on the paternoster, thumping his cane rhythmically against the floor in time with the progression of his thoughts, then stormed onto the Endeavor past the indifferent airman on duty. Jonathan went up to the mid-deck and to Montgomery¡¯s cabin, only checking himself long enough to rap the door with the handle of his cane. The captain¡¯s voice came, and Jonathan shoved the door open, finding the man in the middle of updating the ship¡¯s logbook.

    ¡°Why haven¡¯t we left yet?¡± Jonathan demanded, startling the man.

    ¡°I beg your pardon?¡± Montgomery asked, half-confused and half-offended by Jonathan¡¯s tone.

    ¡°We didn¡¯t really need supplies, save for zint and lifting gas and those would only take a day.¡± Jonathan planted his cane on the floor, leaning forward over Montgomery¡¯s desk. ¡°The repairs didn¡¯t need a dry-dock, and they should be finished anyway.¡± He¡¯d seen the patches himself, small sections of the envelope a slightly different color than the rest. ¡°So why haven¡¯t we left?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­¡± Montgomery closed the logbook, reaching for his pipe and starting to wipe out the bowl. Jonathan waited patiently the captain to collect his thoughts. ¡°We¡¯ve got everything we need on board, sure enough, save for the crew. All things considered, a little bit of time in a safe port will do them good.¡±

    ¡°Will it? It¡¯s not a home port.¡± Jonathan scowled across the desk at Montgomery. ¡°It may be one of the most dangerous we¡¯ve been. They¡¯re perfectly happy to let us stay here ¡ª and how tempting is that, to people who have been out this far?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t imagine most of my crew would be too keen to settle down after just a couple days,¡± Montgomery said, opening his smoking tin and transferring some of the contents to his pipe. ¡°We¡¯ve been to foreign ports before.¡±

    ¡°A couple days, maybe not. But that turns into more days, and the temptation grows. More people leave. Then we need to start trying to recruit, and I guarantee you that will not work here. Even one crewman is a loss we can¡¯t recover from, and trying will only make it worse.¡± Jonathan straightened up. ¡°Recall the crew. Prepare to leave. Before we can¡¯t leave.¡±

    ¡°Interrupting shore leave isn¡¯t going to make you too popular,¡± Montgomery said, but the wrinkles on his brow showed that he was considering Jonathan¡¯s point. ¡°Or me neither. But I see your point, Mister Heights. I¡¯ll call everyone back.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Jonathan gave Montgomery a sharp nod and left the cabin, but he didn¡¯t return to his own. It would take time to round up all the airmen out in the city, and it might take more than a message to tempt Eleanor back to the Endeavor. She had been more seduced than most by what Terminus offered, and had spent little of their time in port aboard the ship.

    He rode the paternoster down once again, taking to the streets of Terminus with a brisk stride. If nothing else, Jonathan found it fortunate the town wasn¡¯t particularly large, else finding the haunts of someone like Eleanor would have been impossible. As it was, he had to pay close attention to the street names to find the obscure corner neighborhood Eleanor had tucked herself into ¡ª then use his own judgement as to exactly which place she would be.

    Fortunately, her vices didn¡¯t run to debauchery so that ruled out some of the more distasteful options, but he didn¡¯t know the woman as well as he once had. She¡¯d been young and angry when he¡¯d first encountered her, and most of that hadn¡¯t changed, but he wouldn¡¯t have expected the Eleanor from long ago to be taking tea in a small garden. Nor did he know who she was conversing with, but it seemed it had not taken her long to make friends within Terminus. Something that was dangerously convenient.

    ¡°Jonathan,¡± Eleanor said, spotting him as he stepped through the garden gate. The elderly lady at the table with Eleanor matched the garden; blue and white and elegant. She favored Jonathan with a haughty frown, but he ignored her displeasure.

    ¡°Time to go, Eleanor,¡± Jonathan said without preamble.

    ¡°You¡¯re interrupting,¡± Eleanor replied, taking a sip of her tea. ¡°Besides, leaving already? Isn¡¯t that a bit hasty? It¡¯s not like we¡¯re on a schedule, is it?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s been four days,¡± Jonathan said shortly. ¡°Every moment we¡¯re here, opportunities slip by. Terminus isn¡¯t for us.¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡± Eleanor said, turning to face him more fully and brushing a stray lock of red hair from her face. ¡°How do you know? It¡¯s great here! I don¡¯t have to worry about family, I don¡¯t have to worry about the Council. I can do whatever I want.¡±

    ¡°So, what, you¡¯re going to stay here?¡± Jonathan asked, matching scorn with scorn. He leaned on his cane and looked down at Eleanor, who narrowed her eyes at Jonathan.

    ¡°You know, I just might,¡± she challenged him. He checked his initial, explosive impulse to simply grab her and physically drag her back to the Endeavor. Forcing the issue would make it difficult to rely on her talents when he truly needed them. Nor did he miss the sharp eyes of the old lady, which promised to make any extraction more difficult than it otherwise needed to be.

    ¡°And then the Endeavor will return, and you won¡¯t be there,¡± Jonathan told her after a moment of contemplation. ¡°The Council will write you off; a failure. Nobody will know that you actually got out on your own terms. They won¡¯t know you won.¡± Eleanor flinched at that, and Jonathan knew he¡¯d read her correctly.

    ¡°You may stay here, but this place is just an end. It¡¯s giving up. It is settling.¡± He kept his face a neutral mask and his tone bland, allowing the words to cut all on their own. ¡°If all you care to do is settle, I suppose Terminus is sufficient. If you want more, we will be leaving soon.¡±

    ¡°Now just wait a minute¡ª¡± The old lady began, and Jonathan turned to her with fury and sunlight in his eyes. She shrank back from the dangerous edge in his posture, the white-knuckled grip on his cane. Eleanor sighed and stood up, blotting her mouth with a kerchief.

    ¡°Thank you for the tea, Miss Ernst. It was lovely. But I do have to go now.¡± The old lady merely nodded tightly, still cowed by Jonathan¡¯s simmering rage, and Eleanor preceded Jonathan back out the garden gate. She didn¡¯t speak on the way back to the ship, and neither did Jonathan, having accomplished his goal and seeing no need to dwell on it.

    He almost expected to find opposition from Terminus as the two of them made their way to the port, but nothing materialized. That would be too easy, Jonathan surmised. Any hint of opposition would instantly crystallize any remnant suspicions over the nature of the trap. Jonathan knew what its risk was now, its temptation. Natural or artifice, genuine or synthetic, he was convinced its entire purpose was malign.

    The Endeavor was in a state of upheaval when they emerged from the paternoster, with a swarm of activity as it prepared for departure and an argument ongoing between Antomine and Montgomery where they stood at the gangplank. Jonathan came to a halt and, while Eleanor slithered past the pair without them even realizing, the other men took notice of Jonathan and fell silent.

    ¡°Some of our men are refusing to return,¡± Montgomery reported. ¡°Martin and Oscar.¡±

    ¡°The man who lost his hand, and the one who lost his sound,¡± Antomine elaborated. ¡°They have both opted to take the hospitality of Terminus, and I deemed it a poor idea to try and remove them by force.¡±

    ¡°Oscar¡¯s been with me from the early days,¡± Montgomery said, leathery scowl on his face. ¡°Martin¡¯s new, but if this is some trap I don¡¯t want to leave my people behind. Besides, we need all our crew.¡±

    ¡°They want us to stay,¡± Jonathan said shortly, looking from one man to the other. ¡°The longer we tarry, the more people will wish to remain. Recall where we are, Captain Montgomery. I would not wish to stir the collar of whatever demon lies beneath this place. Even failing that, I would not wish to consider the mischief press-ganged men might do aboard your ship.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t abandon my men,¡± Montgomery said stubbornly.

    ¡°You are not abandoning them. They are abandoning you.¡±

    ¡°I am afraid I must agree, Captain,¡± Antomine said, reaching up to touch the inquisition badge that he wore around his neck. ¡°Perhaps I have failed them, else they would not feel the need to leave our company, but I do not believe it is any occult control twisting at their minds. It is simply nice here, and terrifying out there.¡±

    ¡°Let us be gone, while we still can,¡± Jonathan said, and swept past them to board the ship. Without any possible rejoinder, Antomine and Montgomery followed shortly after. He ascended to the third deck, finding himself alone in the observation room as the Endeavor prepared to cast off. Even now he was anticipating some terrible force to come and bar their way, but nothing manifested. Not that it needed to; the damage had already been done.

    Eventually, the ship began to move, deck swaying underfoot, and the lights of Terminus began to recede. Jonathan returned to his cabin and removed the stack of books he had purchased there; tomes that held secrets and knowledge he¡¯d wondered about all his life. Then, he ascended through the hatch, books balanced in one arm, and emerged onto the top deck. One by one, he hurled the books out into the darkness below.

    They belonged to the past, not to the future. He¡¯d burn it all to see sunlight again.

 Chapter Thirteen

    ¡°Can you do anything about this, Mister Heights?¡± Montgomery gestured to the compass and triskolabe. The former spun with languid ease, while in the latter Zumar¡¯s Bones joined the compass in aimless meander. Only the inverted zint, which showed no path but the way back, still burned with a consistent light. Jonathan frowned at it, then glanced out the bridge windows.

    The spotlights illuminated a slope rising in every direction, thick with diseased briar that curled and curdled in a nauseating spectrum. Despite the power of the engines and the visible movement of the blighted vegetation below them, the Endeavor never seemed to move from the depression, as if the very land was bent by the weight of the ship¡¯s presence. The ship¡¯s instruments showed there was not a single stirring of the air, yet a malodorous draft seemed to force itself through the vents regardless.

    Jonathan¡¯s maps were of little help, for the treacherous terrain did not match the ridgeline that was supposed to be east of the zint vein ¡ª or Terminus, if that place still existed. Or had existed to begin with. The doldrums the Endeavor found herself in were something entirely different, some place or time or mechanism Jonathan had not before encountered.

    ¡°I believe I can, captain,¡± Jonathan said, examining the triskolabe before replacing it on the navigator¡¯s console. ¡°One does not get far into the east without preparing for incidents like this. You may halt the engines, at least for now. I have certain preparations to make.¡±

    ¡°Hopefully ones that won¡¯t take too long,¡± Montgomery said, glowering out the window. He gave the appropriate orders, and the slow slide of the sickly briar below came to a halt. If anything, the rising slopes were even more vertiginous at a standstill, the thorny brush exhibiting a slow and insectile movement as if trying to crawl out of the basin that marked the Endeavor¡¯s presence. Jonathan didn¡¯t suggest trying to tether; the foliage below writhed in such virulent and unwholesome shades that he had no doubt any who touched it would soon regret it.

    He returned to the upper deck to gather materials from his cabin and passed by the small galley, where Eleanor¡¯s maids were making breakfast. The frying meat and baking bread should have produced an appetizing smell despite the ventilation, yet the sickly and corrupt atmosphere seemed to have tainted that as well. The smell turned even Jonathan¡¯s stomach, and the disgusted exclamations that came suddenly from the canteen compelled him to stop.

    ¡°I advise you to wait until I remove us from this place to attempt anything other than water and dried rations,¡± Jonathan told them, opening the canteen door enough to glimpse the disgusting mess that the meal had become. Marie and Sarah both turned to regard him with suspicion. He didn¡¯t offer further explanation, as he had none ¡ª save that very little in the east was safe and most of the rest malevolent.

    ¡°How do you intend to do that?¡± Antomine asked the question from the hall, likely emerging due to the smell. His nose was wrinkled, but his attention was on Jonathan rather than the polluted air.

    ¡°First, I shall see if I can find some navigational heading.¡± Jonathan replied, letting the canteen door swing closed and proceeding on toward his cabin. ¡°Should that fail, we burn that briar and see what may be revealed.¡±

    ¡°That seems like it might be excessive,¡± Antomine said, trailing along and waiting outside as Jonathan sorted through his supplies. He had no handy artifacts for this contingency, no constructed tools to lead them from the diseased trap upon which they had blindly stumbled. His long experience with occult vagaries and the notes and records he had brought with him would have to do.

    ¡°We need only worry about excess if it wastes valuable resources,¡± Jonathan replied. He set out several journals on his desk, some his, others older and more worn. ¡°I suggest¡ª¡± Jonathan began, then arrested his unthinking words. It would not do to offer insult where none was necessary. ¡°It might be best if you ensure that none are falling ill due to this atmosphere,¡± he suggested, knowing that Antomine was better situated than most to hold off any unnatural effects. ¡°And that nobody do any cooking, just in case.¡±

    ¡°Ha!¡± Antomine barked a laugh without much humor. ¡°The men won¡¯t be happy with nothing in their belly, but if they smell too much of this they¡¯ll be unhappier still.¡±

    ¡°What is that, anyway?¡± Eleanor asked, finally emerging from her cabin to join the conversation. ¡°Did something die out there?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s quite likely,¡± Jonathan admitted, her question inspiring him to turn back for one more reference. ¡°And out here, dead things are no less dangerous than living ones.¡±

    ¡°Now that¡¯s a trick,¡± Eleanor muttered, and withdrew with her sleeve over her nose. Antomine followed her example a moment later, leaving Jonathan in peace to ruminate over his books.

    The accounts that Jonathan perused were those of ships beset by strange weathers or likewise pervasive phenomena, ones where the unfortunate airship seemed trapped or becalmed ¡ª a situation which was hardly common, but not unheard of. For some the circumstance simply passed of its own accord, but those were of little interest. The more esoteric methods of escape ranged from blindfolding all aboard, to a chaplain conducting a particular song ¡ª the details of which had been redacted with great prejudice.

    Eleanor¡¯s comment had led him to another account, one of a battle between titans, far to the south beyond the great lavafall of the Godforge. One where the corpse of the loser had been completely unapproachable, as every speck and scintilla of blood and viscera had been quite as dangerous as if it were alive. It had oozed with malign intent, despite being no more than the detritus of a former life.

    That led him to open more crates and extract more books, some of which were forbidden in Beacon simply by virtue of nonhuman authorship. The actual contents were often more mundane; histories of places that no longer existed or never had, journeys to places no human could ever live. Yet there were flashes of things truly dangerous within, words and phrases and stories that could twist both the gut and the mind. It was the sort of study he would hesitate to undertake before, but with sunlight buoying his mind and grounding his soul, he did not fear the risks.

    He pored over the accounts, pen scratching on spare paper as he translated specific passages and puzzled out cryptic references. The clock ticked as he unwound ciphers, sketched webs of references, and correlated depictions between one language and another. Jonathan lost himself in his work, leafing through old, discolored pages of paper and vellum.

    Then he found it. One telling detail, one illuminating passage that set him on the right path. He flipped to certain pages in three separate books, his hand moving of its own accord as he translated the obscure symbols therein. Smoke curled up from where the ink touched parchment, sizzling as the very temerity of the words threatened to set the page alight. Then he blinked at what he had written, awakened from the fugue of research by the abrupt end of his inquiry.

    Jonathan tore a page from his notebook and upon it wrote a name in bold strokes. It took both hands to lift the paper from his desk, and he hooked his cane on his arm before carried the heavy burden down the stairs to the next deck, finding Antomine and Eleanor both in the canteen discussing things with the crew. Everyone turned to look at him when he entered, and Eleanor took a long drag on her cigarette.

    ¡°There you are. Thought you¡¯d be stuck in your cabin forever,¡± she said. Jonathan glanced at the clock in the canteen, finding that it was some hours earlier than when he¡¯d entered his cabin. Or rather, sometime early into the next day, which explained the stiffness in his joints. He dismissed it as a necessary expenditure and held out the paper to Antomine.

    ¡°Eleanor was right. Something did die, and it lingers here still. This is its name; I need you to lay it to rest.¡±

    Antomine blinked.

    ¡°I beg your pardon,¡± he said after a moment, his youthful face torn between incredulity and amusement. ¡°You wish me to administer final rites for some rotting heathen demigod?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Jonathan said, with no amusement whatsoever. ¡°Surely you recognize the power inherent in such a ritual. I will take one of our cannisters of fire dust and spread it in our wake for the pyre.¡±

    ¡°A full cannister?¡± Eleanor asked incredulously. ¡°That is a lot of fire.¡±

    ¡°There is a lot to burn,¡± Jonathan replied. His studies and the revelations they had supplied had not included the magnitude or the nature of the thing, only the name. His conclusions were drawn from the sheer effect, the insatiable hunger and putrescence, that were not something that could be borne by something of ordinary scale and scope.

    ¡°Very well,¡± Antomine said, still hesitant, and reached out for the paper. Jonathan delivered it into his hands, and Antomine nearly dropped it in surprise at the weight of the name. Eleanor glanced over Antomine¡¯s shoulder, then flinched, looking away and scrubbing at her eyes as they watered from the sting of the name¡¯s impact.

    ¡°I shall go inform Montgomery,¡± Jonathan said, grasping his cane once again and glancing around at the airmen who filled the canteen. ¡°We shall be out of this soon,¡± he told them, conscious of the necessity of garnering a somewhat more positive perception from the crew. The current situation was, he granted, not calculated to improve morale. Nearly everyone looked uncomfortable with the noisome odors that pervaded the ship.

    There weren¡¯t exactly cheers at his pronouncement, but at least some measure of hope spread through the listeners. Satisfied with that much progress, he swept out of the canteen and to the bridge, his cane tapping upon the deck in precise, calm monotone. Montgomery looked over sharply at his entrance, and beckoned him onto the bridge.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got something for us, Mister Heights?¡±

    ¡°Yes, captain. Mister Antomine will be performing the rites for this grave we find ourselves atop, and I shall be creating the pyre. I believe any heading will do for now; when that changes I believe it will be obvious.¡± Jonathan did not know, precisely, how it would manifest, but he had been out in the dark long enough to be certain Antomine¡¯s ritual would have clear effect.

    Leaving Antomine to his preparations, Jonathan descended to the hold on the third deck, where the two cannisters of fire dust were each packed inside their own well-padded crate, the black casks sealed with a thick coating of wax. He pried open the crate with his bare hands, neither needing nor trusting a prybar for the task, and cleared away the bundled cloth to lift out a container of heavy stone.

    The deck surged as the engines engaged, and Jonathan carefully carried the cask to the rear of the ship. He opened the door there to the outside railing and set the container down, still finding no wind despite Endeavor¡¯s movement. Wax cracked as he broke the seal on the container and he lifted the lid to expose the glittering orange-red substance.

    The powdered flame blazed with a heat that didn¡¯t just touch the skin, but also something deeper in. A calefaction of mind, of spirit, of some deep and abiding inferno distilled from whatever heretical god the Cult of Flame worshipped. It invited any who beheld it to dive into the fire and revel in the flames, but Jonathan shoved aside that temptation with contempt. Simple burning was nothing next to the purity of sunlight.

    Very, very carefully he tilted the cask over the side, letting the powder sift out into the dead air. It spread out below them in a long trail as the only evidence of the Endeavor¡¯s motion, visible even as it settled over the endless diseased briar the frothed below them. Jonathan ensured no speck of it remained on either the ship or himself, for under its touch steel and carisium and flesh all burned just the same.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    The cask seemed to have no bottom, but that was merely an illusion brought on by the fineness of the powder and how it saturated the air. The glimmering stuff spread out from its own heat, turning into a great cape trailing the Endeavor to swathe the awful briar in a warm glow beyond the Endeavor¡¯s own lights. The long luminescent trail hinted at a massive looming shape, more complicated than a simple slope, with enormous limbs and alien protuberances. Yet within the Endeavor¡¯s own illumination, it was merely a writhing briar climbing in every direction.

    It didn¡¯t ignite, not yet; even fire dust required some spark. Setting landscape alight would require only the most cursory of effort, but one that needed to wait for the proper time. Jonathan didn¡¯t know what time that would be, but he was confident it would present itself as the surroundings finally started to change.

    He knew not what ritual Antomine had decided to perform on the bridge, but it was clear that it had begun to bear fruit as landmarks appeared from the surrounding sameness: unidentifiable corrugations, nauseating wounds weeping ichor, stumps of limbs long since rotted. Great and terrible spans of bone gaped suddenly below, hinting at enormous caverns into which the fire dust fell. If anything, he hoped that a single cask would be enough.

    Finally a huge and hollow eye appeared below, the dead regard no less piercing than were the thing alive. A fetid attention fell upon him, upon the Endeavor as they dared to break from the endless grasping rot of the decaying titan. The entire scope of the corpse, now outlined with wandering trails of flame dust, was an ungraspable contortion of land and space, and some of the paths seemed to imply the Endeavor had been flying as much through it as above.

    The last of the fire dust left the cask and Jonathan replaced the lid, stepping back onto the third deck to drop it into its crate before hurrying to the bridge. There was a sudden sense of urgency from the corpse¡¯s regard, and Jonathan did not wish to be caught unready. He opened the door to find Antomine facing out the window, overseeing the massive body of the dead thing, while the ship¡¯s cat stood imperiously on Antomine¡¯s shoulder. Penelope seemed to understand the solemnity of the moment and presided over it with dignity, her wings partly spread with one paw on the missal Antomine held.

    ¡°¡ªFrom dust ye were made and dust ye shall be.¡± Antomine¡¯s voice sounded through the bridge, resonant and formal. Everyone there was sober and somber, respectful of the ceremony and the being it was for, however ancient and alien it might be. Antomine closed his missal and glanced at Jonathan, then at Montgomery.

    ¡°I believe it is time to light the pyre, Captain,¡± he said, and Jonathan nodded agreement. On this, if nothing else, he and Antomine were of one accord.

    ¡°Will zint do?¡± Montgomery asked, but Jonathan shook his head.

    ¡°It must be ordinary fire,¡± he said. ¡°Zint does not exactly set things aflame.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± Montgomery said, and reached for his pipe pouch, extracting a match and looking around for something to burn. Unbidden, Antomine offered the paper upon which the name was written, and Montgomery took it carefully, stepping out onto the rail and lighting it.

    The paper burst into a more intense flame than it should have, as Montgomery dropped it over the side. The burning brand fell slowly in the dead air, growing smaller and yet brighter as it neared the surface of the corpse. All at once the fire dust ignited, a joyous roar of conflagration and consumption that bit deep into the land below, swallowing it in a violent convulsion of hungry flame.

    Normal fire would have simply subsisted on the briar, if it could have burned anything at all, but that which was wrought from gods could burn gods. In moments flesh and bone and even air caught as the fire purified all, pluming upward to form into flickering patterns of dire import. Antomine barked a warning that any god-fearing man would heed, and airmen looked away so as not to risk whatever terrors that alien symbology held behind it. Jonathan refused to avert his gaze, knowing that nothing he found there would be more profound than the sunlight that drove him.

    The heat from the titanic inferno caught the Endeavor, a sudden scorching wind lofting it upward as the engines found purchase that they had heretofore lacked, and the ship surged forward with sudden haste. Fresh air flooded through the vents in a wave that drove out the fetor, carrying with it the sweltering proof of the that great deific pyre.

    The flickering firelight cast illumination for miles around, revealing a lush landscape of blues and greens scarred by sharp-edged canyons. It was if enormous claws had raked across the earth, perhaps hinting at the conflict that had resulted in the gargantuan corpse that now burned behind them. Far away to the north it even flickered off Widow¡¯s Peak, outlining suggestions of a face and hands that could normally only be seen piecemeal.

    Everyone aboard breathed easier as they fled further east. By the expressions of those on the bridge, ending the interregnum was a vast relief, and even Jonathan had to admit fresh air was better than foul. It was Montgomery who broke the moment, staring out at the scablands below them.

    ¡°Everyone, get your bearings while we have the light,¡± he barked, stirring the bridge from its reverie and sending them into a hive of activity. ¡°There¡¯s no telling where we ended up after all that.¡± Jameson, the navigator, plied the now-functional triskolabe as lookouts frantically tried to match map markings with visible landmarks.

    ¡°Finally, we can breathe,¡± Eleanor muttered, leaning against the wall by the door, out of the way of the bridge crew. ¡°Didn¡¯t it bother you, Jonathan? Do you even have a nose?¡±

    ¡°I have a nose,¡± Jonathan said patiently. ¡°Certain things simply took precedence.¡± The demands of the body were somewhat distant from him at times, as obsession and focus on esoteric matters drove him forward. He couldn¡¯t quite shirk the demands of the corporeal form, and he could tell that he would be paying for the past few days soon enough.

    ¡°Speaking of which, I believe I will retire for now, since this is resolved,¡± Jonathan said, glancing out at the fire-lit landscape. Despite the striking scene of so much being so visible, nothing was revealed that would require his immediate attention. Here were outlines of ancient walls, crumbled and torn, and there was some rotted port, with rusted metal spires from the masts of sunken ships protruding above still waters, but none of it was worth their time.

    ¡°Aye, Mister Heights. Let us hope there will be some time before another emergency.¡± Montgomery nodded at him, and Jonathan took his leave from the bridge. He only made it up one flight, to the central hall of the passenger¡¯s deck, when a sudden chill swept over him. Vapor puffed into the air from his breath and frost sent runners along the metal of the walls.

    Beyond the observation window at the end of the hall Jonathan saw the reflection of the burning titan behind them in what seemed to be a pane of glass floating midair. Then it blinked, and resolved itself into a single gargantuan eye set into an icy bulk, the being looming suddenly in front of them. It looked like nothing so much as a glacilium, one of those motile icebergs that heralded winter, but writ far larger and more aware.

    The ship slewed as whoever was at the helm steered away from the glacilium, though it was miles away. If it was moving, the vast size of the thing rendered it impossible to tell, its scale so out of proportion that no human intuition functioned. Jonathan found himself descending again with haste, muttering imprecations under his breath about the timing of the thing, and his own idiocy for not expecting it. Of course such a profound shift in the local power would draw attention.

    He was nearly to the bridge when the first of the words hammered into the Endeavor, each of them as weighty as the name he had divined and in no language fit for human tongue. Every syllable made the ship ring like a bell, battering and bruising those within, yet still somehow comprehensible to the mind if not the ear.

    Who. Disturbs. The. Dead.

    ¡°How hell are we supposed to respond to that?¡± Eleanor¡¯s voice drifted out of the bridge door, incredulous and perhaps a touch shrill.

    ¡°Politely, I would think,¡± Jonathan said, stepping through the door and leaning on his cane. Neither Antomine nor Eleanor looked surprised to see him return.

    ¡°Do you know how to deal with this?¡± Antomine said, more controlled than Eleanor but still a touch wild around the eyes.

    ¡°With tact and professionalism,¡± Jonathan replied, running his hands over his suit by reflex, even if it was still clean and unwrinkled. ¡°Be clear, concise, and honest. Do not joke to or about it.¡± Most people had little experience dealing with anything that wasn¡¯t human, but even Jonathan had a limited exposure to truly vast and alien beings. Those places where such things existed tended to be blanks on the map, places where those that ventured did not return.

    ¡°I am Jonathan Heights,¡± he said, stepping up to the front of the bridge and considering the creature, whose vast eye was fixed on them. Despite the distance he didn¡¯t bother to raise his voice, trusting that whatever senses it had were sufficient to the task of interpreting his words. ¡°We have laid to rest that which was already disturbed.¡± He paused, and then spoke the name, which fell into the air with dreadful finality like a coffin lid being closed.

    By. What. Right.

    The creature¡¯s reply shuddered through the ship from stem to stern, though it was impossible to tell what emotion lay behind them. The words themselves were powerful enough to batter the mind and body, and discerning any subtleties therein was beyond any of those present. Jonathan winced, leaning on his cane, and turned to Antomine. The inquisitor was certain to have a more appropriate response to that than Jonathan.

    ¡°It is the role of the chaplain to ease the suffering of any they may encounter,¡± Antomine said, after a pause to gather his thoughts. The intense regard of the massive creature was an almost visible radiation, flooding the bridge of the ship and swirling around Antomine as he spoke. ¡°The dead should not linger in this world; it is not for them. This is ancient knowledge, from even before civilization. From the lowliest insect to the gods, we know this to be true.¡±

    Antomine spoke in a voice of conviction that served to straighten the back and stiffen the spines of the men on the bridge, bent as they were under the inscrutable regard of the creature. Jonathan found himself as unaffected by Antomine¡¯s resonant strength as he was by the inquisitor¡¯s righteous anger, leaving him to face the suffocating reality of the creature on his own. Jonathan gripped his cane and let the sunlight in his soul buoy him against the buffets and blows of the thing¡¯s words, clinging to the transcendent sight of perfect light.

    You. Serve. Mysteries.

    It was an observation, without condemnation or even an intimation who it was talking to. Or which secrets it meant, as Jonathan was hardly the only one bearing the mark of esoteric obsession. Even Antomine¡¯s religious convictions bore the imprimatur of the Illuminated King.

    ¡°They are our secrets,¡± Jonathan said, looking out at the enormous eye. ¡°We do not seek yours, nor even those of your fallen brethren. We wish only to continue east.¡±

    One enormous eye swiveled east, which seemed impossible given the icy bulk whose presence continued to reduce the temperature within the Endeavor. Both Eleanor and Montgomery had their hands tucked inside their coats and some of the bridge crew were quietly working to keep creeping ice from solidifying on sensitive controls. Jonathan considered whether the remaining fire dust would be enough to hold the thing off, or perhaps one of the remaining amphoras of unflame would be better given its clear affinity for the cold. Perhaps even an enhanced volley from the zint artillery, though he suspected none of those options would be sufficient given the bulk of the floating mountain ahead of them.

    Westward. Mysteries.

    It seemed to contemplate the idea for a timeless time, still as a frozen corpse. Antomine¡¯s eyes burned white as he fought against the creeping cold, stepping forward to the window in defiance of that frigid gaze. Even if Antomine was the barest reflection of the Illuminated King, possessing a mere fragment of whatever luminant knowledge the King had made his own, he still had the wherewithal to contest the ancient and enormous creature.

    ¡°Human secrets. Nothing for you, nothing for one who dwells so far east. We are of different worlds, and we are only traveling through here. Let us pass each other by, strangers in the dark.¡±

    Once. Met. Never. Strangers.

    With that ominous statement the being vanished from sight, a movement that defied comprehension and was only visible as a gut-wrenching flicker. Nevertheless, it was gone, and the frost began to evaporate as heat returned to the ship. With disconcerting speed, the ice that had rimed metal and glass vanished as if it had never been.

    ¡°Exactly how often are we going to run into things like that?¡± Eleanor demanded of the air, as everyone caught their breaths. Most of the bridge crew were visibly bruised from the onslaught of the thing¡¯s words, Montgomery sporting a very obvious black eye, but nobody paid attention to their new wounds as they hastily sent the Endeavor north.

    ¡°More than we¡¯d like,¡± Jonathan said, even if the question was rhetorical. ¡°These wild places are not empty. There are relics and remnants of civilizations and races long since passed, but even the remains are something to be cautious of.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t like the idea of it heading west,¡± Antomine said with a frown. ¡°Even if it¡¯s unlikely to stumble across human civilization.¡±

    ¡°I am certain the Illuminated King will have no issues dealing with it, should it cause trouble,¡± Jonathan said, not particularly concerned with any potential conflict between Beacon and the behemoth. It was no longer the Endeavor¡¯s problem, so he had no interest in it. ¡°Captain, do we have a bearing?¡±

    ¡°Aye,¡± Montgomery said, looking back from the large map. ¡°Should be able to get past Widow¡¯s Peak in a couple days, then to...¡± he squinted at the notation. ¡°Angkor Leng.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll need the circle guide for that one,¡± Jonathan said, indicating the instrument he had created at Tor Ilek. ¡°Angkor Leng has certain facilities we will need to make use of.¡±

    ¡°So long as it¡¯s not like Tor Ilek,¡± Montgomery said.

    ¡°It should not be,¡± Jonathan agreed. ¡°But it is also far more intact. It may be the first place to find some real treasure.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m for that,¡± Eleanor said, suddenly in a much better mood. ¡°Let¡¯s get going.¡±

 Chapter Fourteen

    ¡°I find it hard to believe that there are no records about who this was supposed to be,¡± Antomine said, sketching the view from the observation deck. ¡°Anyone who could build so large surely left something behind.¡±

    ¡°Yet, I have never seen anything else like them. Not the stone they¡¯re made from, not the figures they depict.¡± Jonathan watched the carved stone of Widow¡¯s Peak, translucent red shot through with silver, slide past under the glare of the Endeavor¡¯s spotlights. It had taken far longer than he would have wished, but they were finally back on the course he had plotted. Beyond the Widow was her fallen husband, a miles-high statue of something quite inhuman toppled and shattered across the landscape. ¡°The east seems to swallow everything.¡±

    ¡°Hopefully not us,¡± Eleanor muttered, smoke from her cigarette pluming from her nostrils. ¡°I¡¯d prefer to remain un-swallowed, thank you very much.¡±

    ¡°Thus, why I have certain stops as yet planned. That which remains can be used to avoid some of the dangers ahead. Some of what I find indecipherable was, it seems, no more foreign to the races here than rain is to us.¡± Jonathan leaned on his cane, one hand placed on the other.

    ¡°Like oversized talking glacilium?¡± Eleanor asked dryly, touching a cheek that still sported a bruise under her makeup.

    ¡°That one was new,¡± Jonathan said indulgently, tapping his fingers on his cane. ¡°The things I have encountered were at least depicted by friezes in other ruins, and so we had some warning. Storms that turn iron to glass, and glass to water. Places where time seems not to pass, and travelers of all epochs lie frozen like a fish in aspic.¡±

    ¡°So long as it doesn¡¯t smell,¡± Eleanor sighed. ¡°It¡¯s been a week and I still can¡¯t get the stink of that corpse-briar out of my nose.¡± She sneezed into a handkerchief as if in demonstration, though Jonathan suspected she was merely complaining for the sake of it.

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe there are any such worries, but I believe events have shown we should be ready for more than I have recorded in my journals,¡± Jonathan told her. ¡°If it improves your mood, there should be nothing of any note between here and Angkor Leng.¡±

    The destination in question lay beyond the end of that fallen monument, the strange red stone hewed and quarried from the statue¡¯s remains and built into a city that had, in turn, succumbed to time. It made for effective navigation, though a path that taxed the engines to power against prevailing winds. Despite Jonathan¡¯s pronouncement, the weather of Widow¡¯s Peak threatened to turn from wind to storm at any moment and, lacking any place to tether, it required solid ship-handling to avoid being dashed into the monumental statue.

    Below them the mists of the Bitter Pass plumed out from the rents in the mountain below the Widow, a chasm likely torn by whatever had toppled the Widow¡¯s husband in eons past. Small deserted settlements of abandoned stone sprouted around the mountain¡¯s base, remnants of some ancient past and protected by both the Widow¡¯s presence and the harsh winds that made air navigation hazardous. It still irked Jonathan that they had been forced to go around rather than take the faster route, but it had not been worth what it might have cost to cross Antomine. Besides, the inquisitor¡¯s talents would still be useful in some of the places they needed to tread.

    The exhalations of the Pass howled mournfully below them, the wailing of some great damned soul, and the deck shivered as the cries of the wind reached a peak, seeming to shriek within the observation room itself. In that instant the ship went dark and silent. The spotlights went out, and the Endeavor began to list as the wind¡¯s pressure went unanswered by the engines. Eleanor¡¯s maid Sarah let out a squeak as Penelope yowled and shot out of her lap, vanishing down the corridor with a flap of wings. Jonathan steadied himself with his cane in one hand, the other reaching out to grasp one of the holdfasts that were discreetly placed along every wall for just such an occasion.

    In the jostling and jostling darkness, there was no sense of up or down, of right or left, and no telling how close they might be to unyielding ground. Yet Montgomery¡¯s experience told as manual operation of vanes and ailerons turned the wild, veering trajectory into something approaching controlled flight. The veterans among the crew knew how to run a ship even without power, though the Endeavor was crippled until the zint mechanisms functioned once again.

    ¡°Get what you need from your rooms,¡± Jonathan said, planting his cane and following his own advice, the shaking and swaying of the ship threatening to throw him from his feet. ¡°There is no telling what has happened.¡± His calm words betrayed the fury bubbling inside at whatever or whoever had struck at the Endeavor. It was an attack on him, on his purpose and on the very sanctity of sunlight, not merely the meat and metal of the expedition.

    For the moment there was nothing Jonathan could do. He had no ability to keep the Endeavor from being dashed to pieces on the mountainside, no way to restore whatever infrastructure had been compromised. Once things had stabilized, however, someone or something was going to find itself at the wrong end of Jonathan¡¯s displeasure.

    Eleanor scampered past him, far more surefooted than he was on the tilted deck, and vanished into her cabin. Sarah and Marie stayed in the observation room, clinging to the furniture until the ship leveled out, and Antomine followed Jonathan¡¯s example by using holdfasts to keep himself steady. The Lux Guards were, as usual, still in their cabins, but there was little they could do either. This was not a problem force could solve.

    Jonathan pulled himself into his cabin, taking a long breath and eyeing the disarrayed crates and skewed desk. He couldn¡¯t aid the crew in keeping the Endeavor from smashing upon the rocks below but, assuming they survived long enough to tether, the ship would need defenses while repairs were made. The last expedition had not paused at Widow¡¯s Peak, but he had seen some of the local fauna in spotlights and it had not seemed friendly.

    He flung himself into his chair and rifled through the desk, both of them fixed to the deck in case of this very extremity. He already had certain instruments that were meant to defend the ship, ones which had not yet seen use thanks to Terminus, but would certainly be needed now. Assuming they survived long enough to tether, but Jonathan had come too far to believe that they would be stymied by something as simple as an airship crash.

    The shaking and swaying leveled out over the next few minutes as Jonathan packed items into his satchel and the ship was nearly stable by the time he marched for the stairs. He caught sight of one of Antomine¡¯s guards vanishing down the stairwell ahead of him, but he was the only one who headed for the bridge. Most of the internal lights still worked, the closed zint tubes still functioning, but when he opened the door the bridge was far darker than usual.

    Jonathan waited at the threshold as Montgomery snapped orders, letting the captain accomplish the tricky business of stabilizing the Endeavor¡¯s trajectory. It was only then that the backup gas lamps flared to life on the hull, illuminating still-pristine walls and buildings wrought of red stone uncomfortably close below them, but the darkness and stillness of the city below showed it was entirely dead. Jonathan had no familiarity with whatever ruin had drawn them in, but he was hardly surprised ¡ª there were plenty of things waiting in the dark, to draw in voyagers in an unwary moment.

    Montgomery whirled around and beckoned Jonathan inside. The captain was simmering, his weathered face red and pinched with fury.

    ¡°Sabotage,¡± he spat, as if the word itself was foul upon his tongue. ¡°Someone smashed the main zint manifold. Someone on my crew hurt the Endeavor. When I find him...¡± The thunderous expression on Montgomery¡¯s face promised wrath whenever he found the perpetrator.

    ¡°At least he cannot escape, under the circumstances,¡± Jonathan said, fully in agreement with Montgomery¡¯s attitude. ¡°Though he can hardly have expected to survive his treachery when we have an inquisitor aboard who can uncover him immediately. We¡¯ll have to; there is no possible way we can conduct repairs with a saboteur about.¡± It was unclear why the traitor had waited so long to conduct his dark business, but Jonathan didn¡¯t intend to give him another chance. There were some advantages to having Antomine aboard.

    ¡°The moment we¡¯re down, we¡¯ll have it out,¡± Montgomery growled around his pipe, his teeth tight on the stem to stop any more choice words from escaping. Then he turned back to the job of finding a place for the Endeavor to tether. As perilous as the arches and spires of the long-dead city below them were, they were also more practical for tying off the tether lines, especially with the Endeavor bobbing along on the wind currents.

    It wasn¡¯t long before Montgomery spotted what he wanted and issued orders. Several men went out with flights suits and the heavy chains at the captain¡¯s direction, quickly wrapping them around a low bridge as it passed below them.

    ¡°Brace!¡± The bos¡¯n bellowed into the speaking-tubes, and everyone grasped the holdfasts as the ship jerked, the tether pulleys no doubt smoking as they took up the slack. The Endeavor groaned and shuddered as it slewed, momentum carrying it almost down to the ground. It wasn¡¯t luck that they didn¡¯t smash themselves upon the unyielding stone of the city¡¯s roofs; Montgomery had clearly selected the bridge solely because of the emptiness of the great dry riverbed below it.

    Leaving Montgomery to deal with the matters of the ship, Jonathan stalked out of the bridge to find Antomine. He found the man in the canteen with his guards, who were as ever in their faceless armor. The man seemed to be saying something reassuring to the crew, as backward as that was. The authority of a chaplain was a comfort to men so far out into the wilds. Jonathan crooked a finger at Antomine but waited until he was finished, knowing better than to either interrupt or attempt to discuss the sabotage in the open.

    ¡°Montgomery said it was sabotage,¡± Jonathan said in an undertone, when Antomine stepped out of the mess. ¡°I imagine you will have no issues finding the perpetrator. We¡¯re going to be grounded for a while regardless, to make repairs and ensure that our saboteur hasn¡¯t left us any presents.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Antomine said, more thoughtful than surprised. ¡°Who would be so suicidal? Especially knowing, succeed or fail, they would be trapped on board with an inquisitor.¡±

    ¡°The dark makes people do strange things,¡± Jonathan said shortly. More than one airman had broken in the endless strange black beyond the bounds of human civilization, even without encountering the strange secrets of long-dead people and civilizations. Sabotage was hardly the worst thing that could happen, and there was a reason any long-haul flight brought plenty of replacement parts.

    ¡°I¡¯ll start getting things ready,¡± Antomine said, lifting his hand to his inquisitor¡¯s seal where hung from the chain around his neck. ¡°I¡¯m sure most of them know it already, so we can hardly take anyone by surprise. The problem will be preventing further damage.¡±

    ¡°You would know best,¡± Jonathan said, more than willing to cede the process to Antomine. His own approach would be considerably more brutal than the inquisitor¡¯s, as would Montgomery¡¯s. There was no mercy to be had for a traitor.

    ¡°How¡¯d we miss something like that?¡± Eleanor asked, emerging into view and looking somewhat disappointed when Jonathan didn¡¯t twitch, even if Antomine did. ¡°I mean, I know you don¡¯t mingle, Jonathan, but I thought I¡¯d catch a plant.¡±

    ¡°I was not looking for anything other than overt signs,¡± Antomine admitted. ¡°The best time to discern if someone is compromised is right after, or just before, they move. Considering the stress everyone has been under, the latter is not much help.¡±

    It was left unsaid that the obvious culprits were the crew they¡¯d picked up at Danby¡¯s. The airmen that had come along with Montgomery from the last life of the Endeavor were hardly going to lift a hand against her now. If anything, the difficulty might be in preventing the original crew from ferreting out the saboteur on their own and applying the sky¡¯s justice right then and there. A satisfaction Jonathan wanted for himself.

    As he had no role in the drama that was about to play out, Jonathan returned to the upper deck to be out of the way and remove himself from any temptation. He stood in the observation room, looking out over the little bit of a city revealed by the still-functional running lights. It was not a place he had been to before, either by air or on foot, and the style was unfamiliar.

    There weren¡¯t the domes and spires like the builders of Tor Ilek or Angkor Leng, but rather steep, sharp-edged walls rising from streets. Streets that lacked a single four-way intersection, or even a properly straight one ¡ª every single joining of two roads was at an angle other than right. One of the odd idiosyncrasies that were so common to the races both vanished and present.

    In times past he would have gone to his books, either to find a reference for what he was seeing or make records himself, but there seemed little point now. That drive had been consumed, redirected to a new path, and he could think of nothing the city offered that would move them forward. He had no idea of what resources, treasures, or knowledge might be plumbed from its depths and didn¡¯t want to waste the time to find out. The only delay he would tolerate was to repair the ship.

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    ¡°We have a problem.¡± Eleanor¡¯s voice sounded from behind Jonathan, and he turned to regard her.

    ¡°It was Robert,¡± she continued as Antomine arrived in her wake, even though he had no idea which of the airmen that was. ¡°He smashed the intermixer manifold?¡± She shrugged at the term, not having any more idea about the intricacies of zint than he did. ¡°And the replacement, which would normally be a problem but¡ª¡±

    ¡°I have some facility with that kind of device,¡± Antomine finished her sentence. ¡°With sufficient glass stock I can restore it.¡±

    ¡°So we can fix that, but he also took the pair of luminiferous gems inside it. And he¡¯s out there somewhere,¡± she added, waving her hand at the city beyond.

    Jonathan grunted unhappily. The gems were something that couldn¡¯t be replaced, even by Antomine, and they vastly improved the functioning of the zint machinery on the Endeavor. Without them they would have to go slower, refuel more often, be more cautious. It was a situation not to be borne, though why exactly this Robert had decided to abscond with them was unclear. They would only be of use to the man if he returned to civilization ¡ª something that would be essentially impossible without a ship. Jonathan¡¯s trek back west had taken all his long experience, no few owed favors, and the driving engine of sunlight.

    ¡°I suppose we shall simply have to track him down,¡± he said at length, despite the improbability of the task. ¡°Do either of you have any experience in that regard?¡±

    ¡°Sarah and Marie can do it. Maybe if it were wilderness it¡¯d be a problem, but that¡¯s a city. Should be easy.¡± Eleanor nodded confidently, glancing back into the hall for her maids.

    ¡°Not a human city, nor an inhabited one,¡± Jonathan observed, but he had no idea what was involved in the process so he didn¡¯t argue further. ¡°Very well, let us waste no time.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re coming?¡± Eleanor asked, the two of them following Antomine down the hall. Jonathan glanced into his cabin to ensure he hadn¡¯t forgotten anything.

    ¡°Certainly,¡± Jonathan said, tapping his satchel. He didn¡¯t know what specific dangers lurked in the city, but he knew he would want tools to address whatever they might find. ¡°I may not be a tracker, but I do know the east. A city that seems deserted certainly isn¡¯t. If we are lucky, we will find our quarry before he ¨C and what he has stolen ¨C is lost for good. However, I need to have a word with Montgomery before we leave.¡±

    ¡°Meet you on the cargo deck,¡± Eleanor said, and Jonathan headed to the bridge as she continued downward. Montgomery was still there, holding conference with his navigator and bos¡¯n, but broke off when he heard Jonathan¡¯s cane approach, tapping on the deck with staccato anger.

    ¡°Mister Heights,¡± Montgomery greeted him. ¡°You¡¯ve been told of our issues?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Jonathan said, and offered Montgomery the bronze plaque. The captain took it gingerly, looking at it with silent curiosity. ¡°I will be heading down to help find the saboteur in a moment, but while we are tethered here it is best to have some kind of protection. Hang this in front of the commissioning plaque while we¡¯re here, and it should prevent most things from taking an interest.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Montgomery said, more as reaction than disbelief. He shared glances with his bridge crew, then crossed to the Endeavor¡¯s commissioning plaque on the wall and used the wire on the back of the bronze to settle it over top.

    Instantly the feel of the ship changed. No dimensions altered, no lighting flickered. There were no visible differences, but any sense of familiarity was lost. It was as if the Endeavor had been replaced with an identical yet wholly different vessel, one they had never seen before.

    ¡°That is damned disturbing,¡± Montgomery said, his hand hovering as if to take the plaque off again.

    ¡°It is,¡± Jonathan acknowledged. ¡°And I would not suggest leaving it on for any significant period of time. But for now, it should suffice.¡±

    He left Montgomery to take care of whatever business the captain needed to do and proceeded downward to the third deck, where he found Eleanor, Antomine, and their respective guards. Some airmen were still stabilizing the descent tether, testing the pulley to ensure it worked properly.

    ¡°Robert took an entire kit with him,¡± Antomine said as he watched the airmen make final checks. ¡°It seems he believes he actually can survive in the wilds.¡±

    ¡°Then he is a greater fool than I thought,¡± Jonathan replied, nodding to the airmen as they finally cleared the descent tether. ¡°Though it explains why he thought he could survive his betrayal.¡±

    He hooked his cane over one arm and took hold of the descent tether, grasping the bar as the airmen started cycling the pulley. His fellow passengers came after, alighting on the bridge that the tether chains were wrapped around one after the other. The lines creaked as wind rocked the unpowered bulk of the Endeavor, but were more than equal to the task of keeping the ship where it was.

    Everyone had zint lanterns at their belts, casting long beams out in front of them as Marie and Sarah led the way. Jonathan wasn¡¯t entirely certain how they were tracking someone over bare stone, especially since they didn¡¯t seem to be inspecting the ground closely, but that was simply one of the mysteries associated with the Reflected Council. They collected people with very unusual skills.

    Jonathan¡¯s cane made an odd crystalline noise on the red stone of the bridge as they walked, an ominous ringing as he marched after the maids. The airman named Robert was dead, even if he didn¡¯t know it yet. If he was lucky, it would be at Jonathan¡¯s hands rather than any of the far more horrific possibilities the dark offered.

    The moment they left the bridge they entered a strange maze of odd-angled streets and odd-angled buildings. There was not a single right angle in evidence, from the slope of roofs and doors to the ancient and unlit tripod lamps that rose from either side of the street. Everything seemed odd and tilted, off-balanced and asymmetric. Yet there was little to distinguish one part of the city from the next, endlessly repeating into darkness and every aspect of it calculated for sensibilities other than their own.

    Sarah and Marie did not lead them in a straight line, for there was no straight line to take. It was only a long series of narrow turns, making it seem as if they were headed uphill through switchbacks even if the city itself was flat and level, red stone gleaming in the light. The Endeavor was lost from view uncomfortably quickly, and with it the sound of wind, leaving the empty and silent streets of the ancient city.

    If anything, it was far too silent. There was no rustling of wings or scraping of claw against stone from vermin, no animal calls or noises. The wind that should have keened through the streets as it came from the mountain was stilled and muffled. Within the range of their light the streets and buildings were perfectly pristine, lacking any kind of overgrowth or detritus, yet the flat stone barely echoed their footsteps.

    The city was certainly dead, but there was still something there. He could feel it on the edge of his mind, as if there were things just out of sight of the lights. Lurking in the shadows, behind the polished glass of windows, lingering in darkened doorways. Every turn deeper into the canted jigsaw of the city reinforced the impression, until they were entirely surrounded by forces unseen and unheard.

    Nobody else seemed to notice. Sarah and Marie sauntered forward, in no hurry, and James and John guarded the rear, none of them nearly as wary as they should have been. Jonathan frowned to himself, but said nothing. If there was no immediate danger, calling attention to that which stalked them might invite disaster rather than avoid it.

    ¡°What is with this,¡± Eleanor muttered, after yet another sharp turn. ¡°Can¡¯t they let anything be a normal straight line?¡±

    ¡°There are rarely straight lines in nature,¡± Jonathan replied absently, punctuating his words with the tap of his cane. ¡°The human proclivity for such might be unique.¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t make sense,¡± Eleanor replied, waving her hand at the neat borders of the street. ¡°Straight lines are easy, putting in jolts and edges everywhere is harder.¡±

    ¡°Is it?¡± Jonathan stopped at one of the sharp corners where the street bent around a building, prodding the point with his cane. It seemed to be incredibly sharp, almost bladelike. ¡°Recall that Tor Ilek was built with circles larger than what we can manage. Whoever lived here might see corners as flat and flat as corners.¡±

    ¡°Well. I guess that makes sense.¡± Eleanor pursed her lips, clearly considering the strangeness she¡¯d encountered in her life. ¡°I don¡¯t understand it, but I suppose I can accept it.¡±

    ¡°It is just a guess,¡± Jonathan admitted. ¡°I am not familiar with this style and the singular lack of symbols anywhere is disconcerting. Everything is featureless and identical, as if it were some great mimicry of a city rather than something built by living hands.¡±

    ¡°Um.¡± Eleanor stopped in her tracks. ¡°You think this is a giant trap?¡±

    ¡°I merely believe that what we are seeing is not what it is. That this city is merely a side effect of whatever intent ruled here ¡ª or still does. Best not to see it as streets and buildings but some alien pattern that only reflects a city by happenstance.¡± For all the strangeness, Jonathan felt no hostility ¡ª hardly a sufficient reassurance, but nothing yet seemed threatening enough to accept the loss of the luminiferous gems.

    ¡°How many places like this have you been?¡± Eleanor asked, frowning at the red stone walls with new caution. ¡°That this sort of thing is just normal to you?¡±

    ¡°Dozens,¡± Jonathan replied. ¡°Even before I met you, I would go along on my father¡¯s expeditions, and then of course you know about my own. It is simply a matter of familiarity; I very much doubt I would be quite at ease in the sorts of places the Reflected Council does business.¡±

    ¡°Eh,¡± Eleanor said, glancing back at Antomine, who was conspicuously not listening. Not that Eleanor¡¯s allegiances were a secret but certain fictions were better maintained. ¡°People are all the same, pretty much. Easy to understand. Doesn¡¯t matter where you go, they still work the same way. Not like this,¡± she waved her hand around at the inhuman architecture.

    ¡°You can get used to non-human thought,¡± Jonathan disagreed, watching Sarah and Marie stop and confer, deciding which way to go.

    ¡°But you shouldn¡¯t,¡± Antomine said, finally joining the conversation. ¡°Humans are how we think. Start thinking too much like something else, and you become something else. You¡¯ve seen it yourself with the Cult of Flame, the Invidus Croft, the Gospel of the Smiling Man.¡± He frowned disapproving at Jonathan. ¡°The kind of experience you have is not something to be pursued. You are quite lucky you haven¡¯t become a monster.¡±

    Jonathan waved a hand dismissively. It wasn¡¯t that Antomine was wrong, but Jonathan was certainly at no risk for being altered by any secrets they might encounter. He had enough knowledge, enough history, enough of a self to remain unshaken by any strange knowledge. Not that anything they could encounter would be more true, more pure, and more primal than sunlight.

    ¡°Quiet,¡± said Marie, the tall and fair one. Eleanor shot her a sour look but obeyed, as did everyone else, coming to a halt in the middle of the street. Jonathan didn¡¯t hear anything, and he considered his senses to be well above average, but it was likely that he just didn¡¯t know what to listen for. If it was indeed even sound they were using; he had some grasp of what secrets Eleanor might be privy to, but not so either of the maids.

    At length Sarah pointed, and led them past the intersection and toward one of the buildings. It didn¡¯t look any different from any other, but for a crewman trying to hide from potential pursuers, that was a point in its favor. Jonathan would not have entered any of the buildings of his own accord, and even in pursuit of the stolen luminiferous gems he misliked it. He half-expected the unseen presence to pounce the moment they crossed the threshold, but it remained behind walls and around corners, just out of sight.

    Marie hesitated at the entrance and then pushed open the door, which swung on silent hinges. The very shape was slanted and sloped, and the interior was empty save for canted stairs. Finally Jonathan could hear something, a rapid, near-panicked breathing from somewhere deeper in.

    Even before their light reached whatever corner he was hidden in, Robert tried to run. There was a sudden pounding of boots on stone, and Eleanor leapt forward, flickering out of view for a moment. A scream came from somewhere up ahead, and they hurried forward to find Eleanor holding a scrawny bald fellow against the wall with the point of her dagger. Jonathan¡¯s grip tightened on his cane handle, then relaxed. It was fortunate that Eleanor hadn¡¯t killed the saboteur, for Jonathan wanted that pleasure for himself.

    ¡°Robert Masterson,¡± Antomine said, moving forward and flanked by his guards. James and John were, as ever, faceless and silent in the armor of the Lux Guards, white and gold and gleaming. ¡°You¡¯re guilty of dereliction of duty, treason, and sabotage. The question is, however, why? For what reason would you sacrifice yourself and your fellow crew?¡±

    The man didn¡¯t reply immediately, too focused on the point of Eleanor¡¯s dagger. Antomine coughed politely and Eleanor glanced back, then took a short step away from Robert, not quite lowering her weapon. Jonathan had to control himself not to take her place, his eyes cold as he took in the visage of the man who would deny him sunlight.

    ¡°Because you risk the rest of humanity!¡± Robert said at last, drawing himself up. ¡°The Exploration Society told you, but you wouldn¡¯t listen. Now you¡¯ve sent that ¡ª that thing back toward Beacon.¡± With each word Robert seemed more sure of himself, less terrified of them. ¡°We can¡¯t allow you to risk humankind by drawing the attention of such things as live out here in the east.¡±

    ¡°That is not your decision to make,¡± Antomine said coldly. ¡°I am the Illuminated King¡¯s representative, and I am the one who decides whether or not this expedition has gone too far.¡±

    ¡°Hah! The King hasn¡¯t been out of the kingdom! He doesn¡¯t care! He just wants whatever that one is going to get,¡± Robert said, jabbing a finger in Jonathan¡¯s direction. ¡°You¡¯re not going to stop him.¡± Jonathan smiled in grim amusement, because on that much Robert was correct. Antomine certainly would not stop Jonathan, though perhaps not for the same reasons as Robert was thinking.

    ¡°What made you think you could survive out here?¡± Eleanor broke in, aiming her lamp at a small sled with supplies piled onto it. It wasn¡¯t clear how he¡¯d managed to land that with a flight suit, but it was irrelevant. All the supplies in the world wouldn¡¯t have helped him survive.

    ¡°He did it,¡± Robert said, jabbing the finger again. ¡°He wasn¡¯t even a senior member! It can¡¯t possibly be nearly as difficult as it sounds.¡±

    Jonathan chuckled darkly, and everyone turned to him. Returning to Beacon from the far east on foot was worse than difficult; it was impossible. At least, it was so for anyone who could not retain their body and mind while embracing the alien elements of the east. Jonathan had the purity of sunlight to protect him, but Robert was not so blessed.

    ¡°It hardly matters,¡± Jonathan said, stepping forward. ¡°I thought I¡¯d left the Exploration Society behind when I left Danby¡¯s. Now, I know I was wrong, but at least it gives me an opportunity to make good on my promise.¡±

    ¡°Stay back!¡± Robert blurted, trying to take a step backward and failing, already pressed against the wall.

    ¡°I said I would destroy the next agent of theirs that crossed my path,¡± Jonathan said, and his hand shot out, viper quick. Robert choked and tried to claw Jonathan¡¯s grip from his throat, to no avail as Jonathan let the fury he¡¯d been suppressing wash through him. Antomine moved as if to stop him but it was too late as Robert screamed, then gurgled as his eyes burned out from the sheer intensity of Jonathan¡¯s sunlit soul. Then he slumped, scorched and smoking, as Jonathan let the body drop to the floor.

    ¡°Mister Heights!¡± Antomine said, voice taut with rage. ¡°How dare you!¡± Whatever else he might have said was lost as the presence that had been behind every door and window came howling in after Robert¡¯s corpse.

 Chapter Fifteen

    The inhabitant of the deserted city took no form that could be seen or heard, no skin of flesh or shadow. It was a raw force of lonely longing and a sweet, sharp-edged nostalgia for the very moment of dying. Not death itself, nor life either, but that infinitesimal moment poised halfway into the abyss. Its presence carried tender memories of the last lingering instant before oblivion, of life draining away into nothingness. The emotions and images hammered into them, sending everyone staggering save for the two Lux Guards.

    Not even Jonathan was immune, despite the sunlight that brimmed within him. Nothing was immune to death, and the ideation of dying found purchase in everything, flesh or stone or insubstantial dreams. He found himself clutching his cane in a white-knuckled grip as he fought off the sudden beckoning temptation to use that very cane on his own throat, or to dash his head on the stone. Anything to reach that exquisite moment.

    ¡°I can¡¯t¡ª¡± Eleanor said, gripping her dagger with trembling fingers, though it was difficult to tell if the trembling came from weakness or strength. Sarah and Marie had simply fainted under the pressure. Antomine, however, straightened up as his eyes glowed, and at his gesture James ¨C or perhaps it was John ¨C scooped Eleanor up, plucking away her dagger before she could use it. The other one went to assist the maids, while Jonathan centered himself, finding all those pieces of himself that held anything but sunlight. Even if he could not cast them aside, knowing they were not his thoughts was enough to turn them into a mere insistent murmuring in the back of his mind. At length he managed to straighten, though the presence had hardly diminished. The saboteur¡¯s death had merely whetted its appetite, and now it wanted more from them.

    ¡°We must leave now,¡± Antomine said, as if it weren¡¯t obvious. Jonathan forced his muscles to work and reached out with his cane to hook the sled that the saboteur had brought along with him. Jonathan had already forgotten the irrelevant man¡¯s name, the body crumbling into red stone, mortal clay claimed by the city.

    Even with such lethal hungers battering at his brain, Jonathan was mindful of the reason they¡¯d come. He pulled open the bag sitting on the top of the sled, and a brilliant zint glow shone forth from the stolen luminiferous gems, still slotted into the broken-off chunk of glass and steel that had been taken from the Endeavor. Jonathan snatched it up and turned to go.

    ¡°I need that,¡± Antomine said, reaching for the mechanism. Jonathan nearly yanked it back, but stilled himself. Sunlight required such iron discipline to contain that even the city''s clamoring lust for death could not dispossess him ¡ª nor would he allow Antomine to do so. The inquisitor was not the enemy, and so he dropped the zint device into waiting hands.

    The gems blazed up, then dimmed as Antomine¡¯s eyes glowed nearly as brightly. The mental assault dimmed, not vanishing entirely but receding to a background scratching of suicidal contemplation. That made it far easier to ignore, as Jonathan was not and had never been inclined in that direction. The Lux Guards¡¯ immunity to it was less easy to explain, but Jonathan had long suspected they had been touched and altered by the Illuminated King. Most likely, their lives were not their own to spend.

    ¡°Oof, that¡¯s better,¡± Eleanor said, regaining her own feet and pulling slightly away from the guard holding her elbow. A quick, reflexive motion retrieved her dagger and stowed it in a hidden sheath. ¡°Thanks, Antomine.¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Jonathan said, following Eleanor¡¯s lead and giving Antomine the proper consideration. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    Jonathan looked around, finding that the pristine and empty red stone room was just as they had left it. Whatever inhabited the city, whatever its deviant hungers, nothing had physically changed. By mutual unspoken agreement they all hastened out the way they¡¯d come; even if Sarah and Marie were unconscious, Jonathan could retrace their path without help.

    When they stepped out of the malformed doorway, the strange and alien sameness of the city struck much harder. Every corner was a sharp edge inviting them to cut a wrist or throat, every street edge a convenient place to trip and so break a neck or dash a head open against the street. It was like walking drunk into an abyss of knives, with every plane and angle offering an opportunity for injury and death ¡ª yet it was just a street in a city.

    Jonathan planted his cane firmly on the stone in denial of danger and invitation both, a sudden report that did not echo from the many-angled walls. Nevertheless, it served to ground his perceptions for a few moments and jolted Eleanor out of her contemplations. Of all of them, it seemed Antomine was the least affected, though his eyes still blazed with internal illumination.

    ¡°This way,¡± Antomine said, striding forward, for once taking the lead and setting the pace. Jonathan let him, but stayed close at his elbow to provide direction should he stray from the return path. After only a few moments the city began to subvert the dull sound of boots on stone, and the tapping of Jonathan¡¯s cane. Each sound became the rustle of Jonathan drawing his blade, of Eleanor taking out her dagger, or the click of a zint-pistol being primed. Anything that might lead to that exquisite moment of dying.

    It was almost enough to make Jonathan miss the way the city had changed. They rounded knife-edged corners, finding more identical streets, identical buildings, but not the ones Jonathan expected. His memory was sharp, and the left and the rights he was expecting did not appear. He did not stop, for the direction was correct even if the path was not, but looked closely at every building and intersection ¡ª though every exposed surface tempted cuts and contusions with each glance.

    Nothing shifted within view, but every corner they took was altered, as if the streets no longer linked to each other in the same way. After three intersections, the buildings had even more corners than before, the street edges jagged to catch at boots and clothes. After five, the streetlamps etched the air with a readiness to topple, to pulp flesh and shatter bones. Threats were proven to have substance as Jonathan turned too quickly and the glint of a curb half a block away drew a bloodless line across his cheek.

    ¡°Can you do anything further?¡± He asked Antomine, eyes narrowed as the city¡¯s lust crowded in around them. The Endeavor itself was safe, considering the plaque he¡¯d given them, but time and distance were an issue. At some point the plaque would have to come off, or else they¡¯d risk permanent damage, and there was still a stretch of city left to cover ¡ª foreign city, with a layout to balk and undo them in every direction.

    ¡°No,¡± Antomine said shortly.

    Jonathan paused to consider the matter, Eleanor scowling around with her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her greatcoat. Of them all, her maids likely had the easiest time of it, for semiconscious as they were they couldn¡¯t discern the dangers that lurked about and so were immune to them. He could perhaps approach things differently if he were on his own, but he was not prepared to throw away Eleanor and Antomine just yet.

    ¡°Then perhaps we should simply go in a straight line.¡± Jonathan removed his pistol from his belt and offered it to Antomine. ¡°The best way to stymie such a place is to refuse to play by its rules.¡± The city¡¯s lusts had been disconcerting, but he had the measure now.

    ¡°I see,¡± Antomine said, frowning as he took the weapon. He didn¡¯t try to hide what he could do, at least, and extracted the luminiferous gems with quick movements, stuffing the mechanism in a pocket. He held the gems in one hand, taking aim with the other, pistol held in a firm grip. Jonathan corrected the trajectory, sure of his bearings as he pointed Antomine back toward the ship.

    The inquisitor focused and then pulled the trigger. The beam flared like a bolt of lightning, fading only slowly and leaving a round hole punched through walls and lampposts, sizzling and flickering at the edges with the blue-white glow of zint. The lingering remnants of the shot outlined a path all the way to a point of gas-lamp illumination, which Jonathan¡¯s eyes could pick out from the surrounding darkness.

    ¡°Go.¡± Jonathan said, and Eleanor sprinted ahead, followed by Antomine¡¯s guards with their burdens. Jonathan took the rear, behind Antomine, while the city swirled uncertainly around the new additions as if deciding what manner of death befit them. Or perhaps the changes would simply be gone in a few moments, vanishing when they were out of sight once more.

    They sprinted through while they had the chance, leaping the hurdle of the bit of wall that remained above the ground and ducking to fit through the holes, which was slightly smaller than a man upright. The damage hadn¡¯t reached the same scale as the artillery Antomine had handled, but was more than enough to deal with the obstacles the city had thrown in their path. While brute force didn¡¯t always work, it could be shockingly effective even against esoteric threats.

    Jonathan had made it halfway along the shortcut when the city¡¯s obsession returned in full force, turning every hole into a gate to oblivion and all remaining light into something that would cut and burn and sever. None of it was true, all of it was perception, but the emotion and desire to fail and fall washed over them with such force that it nearly did the job by itself.

    He let some of his control loose, feeling the pure presence of sunlight bubbling up out of his soul and chasing away the city¡¯s whispered suggestions. Under its dominion nothing else seemed to matter, no other influence could take hold, but there was a risk that he might lose sight of all the steps between him and it. He well knew how dangerous it was to lose himself in the feeling, no matter how much he wanted to.

    Antomine faltered, and Jonathan hefted him up and kept running. The inquisitor¡¯s weight was no trouble, and it only took a few steps to adjust his balance. A few drops of blood dripped from Antomine¡¯s fingertip from some injury Jonathan hadn¡¯t seen, glowing with the same zint-light as the man¡¯s eyes.

    Eleanor, despite her earlier issues, seemed to have no trouble vaulting through the holes, faltering not at all from the pressing, heady need to stop and bleed out. In a straight line, the distance back to the ship was barely worth mentioning, and it only required a minute or so of full sprint to break out into the open once again. The Endeavor floated there, similar and yet not, a stranger disguised by the unknowable ship¡¯s name that covered hers, and the death-drunk city rising on either side made even Jonathan question for an instant if they were where they were supposed to be.

    Then the moment past, he shook it off, and everyone made for the tether still fastened to the bridge. So far the city had not marshalled anything more than feeling and perception against them, and Jonathan did not want to give it time to bring any actual force or creature to the fore. The pair of crew at the descent line, the brawny and wiry pair that he¡¯d seen several times before, signaled with whistles. They could hardly have missed the sudden change in the city¡¯s attitude, and Jonathan had a grudging respect for how they¡¯d stayed on the ground. Even if they weren¡¯t the focus of the city¡¯s attention, they had still been subject to its effect.

    The people at the top started winding in the line, and Jonathan grabbed onto one of the line¡¯s handholds just after Eleanor, wedging his boot into another and still holding onto Antomine. The young inquisitor seemed to be reviving, but there wasn¡¯t any point in sorting things out until they were back aboard. The two airmen clung to the end of the tether, after the guards, the weighted end swinging into the air just as Eleanor reached the bottom deck.

    She stumbled there, looking slightly ragged, and Jonathan was next, setting Antomine down on unsteady feet next to her and running his hands over his suit. The others had ragged rips in their clothing, but his was as neat and spotless as ever. Eleanor took charge of her maids as Antomine¡¯s guards brought them in, thanking James and John with quiet words as she revived Sarah and Marie.

    ¡°Do we need to untether?¡± Jonathan twisted at the question from the bos¡¯n, who had appeared in a rush from the stairwell.

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe so,¡± Jonathan said as the ideation of dying had vanished now that they couldn¡¯t see the city. He inclined his head in Antomine¡¯s direction. ¡°Mister Antomine has the device and the gems. I do hope not much is necessary to resume our journey.¡±

    ¡°And Airman Robert?¡±

    ¡°Dead,¡± Jonathan said shortly. The bos¡¯n grunted, not particularly upset.

    ¡°Which is something we will be discussing,¡± Antomine said darkly, but reached into his pocket for the bit of steel and glass, and handed it off to the bos¡¯n, along with the pair of glowing gems. The bos¡¯n disappeared back up the stairs as the brawny and wiry pair of airmen secured the descent line and closed the external hatches.

    ¡°You know, I thought this was supposed to be the safe route,¡± Eleanor grumbled, and Marie gave Jonathan a deep frown. Sarah was rubbing her throat, and though Jonathan couldn¡¯t see any marks upon her, that didn¡¯t mean she was unharmed.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°It is,¡± Jonathan said. ¡°Or at least, the one with the least known dangers. Though we could have avoided this city if we had gone by the Bitter Pass,¡± he added, with a sharp look at Antomine. ¡°Even with the sabotage we would have ended up in a more favorable location. Despite this danger, other routes would have worse ¡ª ravenous savages and lethal weather are the least of what they hold.¡±

    ¡°At least bad weather wouldn¡¯t make me feel like ¡ª like dying is the sweetest goal I could ever achieve,¡± Eleanor said, shuddering. Her discontent wasn¡¯t entirely directed at him. ¡°You managing, Sarah?¡±

    ¡°I am now,¡± the maid replied, coughing and covering her mouth with a sleeve before taking a long breath. ¡°Marie?¡±

    ¡°That was awful,¡± Marie said bluntly, and Jonathan left the three women to commiserate. He hadn¡¯t much enjoyed the experience himself, but now that it was resolved he saw no point in recapitulating it. Nor was there anything he could do to address their issues, as the city had assaulted their minds more than their bodies ¡ª any weakness there could only be addressed from within.

    Antomine strode after him, and Jonathan slowed his steps so they didn¡¯t turn into some ridiculous burlesque of pursuer and pursued. If the inquisitor had something to say to him, Jonathan saw no need to avoid it ¡ª yet it was best to be done in private. Airing grievances was not something to be performed in front of the crew.

    They climbed to the third floor and by silent mutual agreement made for the observation room. Once inside Jonathan planted his cane on the floor, hands interlaced atop it and regarding Antomine with something barely short of disfavor. He was willing to listen to Antomine, but the moralizing lectures of the King¡¯s Inquisition were something he could do without.

    ¡°Mister Heights,¡± Antomine said at length, taking off his wide-brimmed hat and setting it on one of the chairs bolted to the floor, dropping Jonathan¡¯s pistol next to it. ¡°You realize you just committed murder in front of a member of the Inquisition.¡±

    ¡°Hardly,¡± Jonathan said, unworried by the accusation. ¡°You are too intelligent to be so disingenuous. The only laws out in the black are those of custom, tradition, and power. That man betrayed us, could have killed us all, and stole from us. At best he would have been thrown off the ship without a flight suit.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps that is the case, but it is not your place to do so.¡± Antomine frowned, his hand reaching up to touch the inquisitor¡¯s medallion around his neck. ¡°So far from civilization it is even more important we follow every rule of propriety, for nobody else will enforce them. If we don¡¯t follow them, none will, and we risk degenerating to madness.¡±

    ¡°I hardly think that removing someone who has absolutely earned it is going to set us on a path to destruction,¡± Jonathan said, shaking his head at Antomine.

    ¡°It is never one single act that damns a man,¡± Antomine retorted. ¡°Besides which, ¡®setting us on a path to destruction¡¯ is precisely what happened. Simply bringing him back would have been safer for all involved. The only reason for you to kill him then was for your personal satisfaction alone. Mister Heights, I will not have that aboard a human vessel.¡±

    His eyes flashed, the white pupils blazing as he squared his shoulders, but he didn¡¯t make either an ultimatum or a threat. It was a statement of fact, and both of them knew that pushing against it would result in consequences neither of them were quite ready for. Jonathan regarded Antomine, brow wrinkled, for several long moments before speaking.

    ¡°I will not be dictated to, Mister Antomine,¡± he said at last. ¡°I will do whatever I deem necessary. However ¡ª you do have a certain point about inappropriate judgement. Unless there is no time, I will make an effort to defer those sorts of situations to you.¡± Jonathan refused to commit himself more firmly and, given Antomine¡¯s abilities, even if he were inclined to lie it would be useless.

    ¡°Very well.¡± Antomine didn¡¯t appear to be particularly happy, but he seemed to recognize that was the best he would get from Jonathan. After studying Jonathan¡¯s face for a few more moments, Antomine sighed and picked up his hat again. Without any further words he turned and left, heading back to his cabin.

    Jonathan was aware that in many ways Antomine was being very accommodating. As an inquisitor and the direct hand of the Illuminated King, it was his duty to deliver the law, every aspect of it, wherever he was. Pragmatically, they rarely went beyond the bounds of the kingdom for that very reason, as they would conflict with the needs and desires of captains or of non-human individuals to be found on the periphery of human civilization.

    It took a certain flexibility of mind ¨C one that most inquisitors didn¡¯t have ¨C to deal with reality beyond the walls of Beacon, and any other inquisitor would likely have tried to charge him with murder. The simple private discussion was almost treasonous from that point of view, which itself made him reevaluate Antomine once again. That level of moral flexibility, combined with a zealot¡¯s assurance, was extremely dangerous.

    He picked up the pistol, noting that not only was it exhausted of zint, but the glass was fogged and pitted, and returned to his own cabin. Tossing the useless weapon in the drawer of his desk, he went to inspect the cut on his cheek and found it essentially invisible and already healing, and so not worth the worry. With that resolved, he retrieved the notebook that described Angkor Leng and returned to the middle deck. Provided there were no other distractions, their next destination would be one he had actually intended.

    Eleanor nearly bumped into him as she exited the stairwell, and he stood aside to allow her to pass by with her two maids trailing behind. Antomine had his own defenses and Jonathan had been able to reject the city¡¯s whispers entirely, but she was clearly shaken from being forced into a nightmare of mortality and ending. He kept his silence as she gave him a sour look and vanished into her own room, and proceeded down to the bridge.

    For all there were few true repairs needed once the missing component and gems had been replaced, it still took half a day for the Endeavor¡¯s engines to power up again. By then the plaque was cracked and tarnished, its effect broken, and they removed it before they ascended. Airmen loosed the tethers from the bridge below, and the ship rose into the air. The deck swayed as the wind from the mountain fought with the power of the engines, but they steadied and soon left the city of ravenous dying behind in the darkness. Jameson had already marked the city on the map, and surely had filled in the details in the ship¡¯s logbook.

    ¡°Angkor Leng was built by the same races that created Tor Ilek,¡± Jonathan said once they were properly on their way again, speaking to both Montgomery and Jameson. They were making good time, and would soon be at the end of the massive statue¡¯s remains. ¡°It¡¯s rather difficult to get to, being located entirely in the extra degrees of a circle.¡± He gestured to the odd compass he had constructed. ¡°When we get to the area, the fastest way is to simply steer in the direction that shows you ¡ª it will send you in an odd path, but it works.¡±

    ¡°At least we don¡¯t have to replace the wheel,¡± Montgomery said, even though the ship¡¯s wheel was only the smallest aspect of controlling its heading. ¡°What are our odds of there being something else waiting there? Haven¡¯t had the best track record with these cities.¡±

    ¡°I am somewhat more familiar with Angkor Leng than the other places,¡± Jonathan replied. ¡°There are certain hazards, but they are easily avoided. I intend to direct the Endeavor to a section of the city where we will be appropriately sheltered from anything else that may be passing through.¡±

    ¡°Not living there?¡± Montgomery asked, taking a draw on his pipe and eyeing Jonathan speculatively.

    ¡°Finding it is issue enough; what might live there stays down in the depths, and if I have my say we¡¯ll never venture below street level.¡± Jonathan leaned on his cane, looking out as the rugged red stone landscape slid by the Endeavor. ¡°I can¡¯t promise it¡¯s entirely safe, but what is? Even Beacon has its hazards.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll hold you to that,¡± Montgomery said. ¡°I do hear some mutters about Terminus still.¡±

    ¡°Now that is a dangerous place,¡± Jonathan said, and Montgomery grunted, understanding his point completely.

    Jonathan had been somewhat overhasty in explaining their next destination, as it was over a day of travel before the red stone became less frequent and foliage began to appear in exposed soil. A river appeared, churning blue and grey as it ran past the last small mountain of the fallen statue¡¯s head, sightless eyes staring forever upward, and then continued off to the place where Angkor Leng lay.

    The city wasn¡¯t visible, of course, though here and there was evidence of its proximity. Bridges lay across canyons cut by the river, connected to roads that went nowhere. Patches of remnant civilization spotted the scarred and overgrown land, hinting at the presence of something larger but not resolving into any real pattern. Without Angkor Leng none of it made sense.

    The pilot kept his eyes locked upon the strange compass, sending the ship through long, slow spirals, first one way and then another. The engines labored as the compass swung sharply, forcing the Endeavor to hold itself in place as it tried to rotate, following the odd and indirect path as best it could. The landscape below changed subtly, the random spots of weathered road and crumbled building spreading and flowing as the angles changed, until suddenly domes and spires emerged from where they¡¯d always been.

    Angkor Leng was desiccated rather than rotted; the worn and pitted stone shrunken and clinging to metal skeletons, cracked here and there as if it had been stretched too far. No rust spotted the exposed steel, the metal shining and denuded like something polished too many times. The city exuded a worn and weary atmosphere under the Endeavor¡¯s lights, as if it would slump into the ground at any moment ¡ª no matter that it had been that way for centuries as far as Jonathan could tell.

    Jonathan stayed at the pilot¡¯s elbow, trying to match the visible buildings to what he remembered of the city. The protruding spires and skeletal metal fingers reached up from domes below, forcing the Endeavor to move slowly and carefully, maneuvering down to an altitude where they could spot the landmarks. A flash of blue caught Jonathan¡¯s eye and he pointed the pilot that direction, the color revealing itself as ceramic remnants of a dome mosaic with most of its tiles lost to the ages. The few that were left had vibrant colors rarely seen in nature: bright blue, brilliant yellow, and pristine white. What it had depicted was anyone¡¯s guess.

    ¡°We can tether here,¡± Jonathan said. ¡°This entire section of the city is deserted, and so long as nobody goes underground you should not disturb anything. The machinery here still works, and that is the primary danger ¡ª but an avoidable one, I feel. Simply refrain from touching buttons or levers unless I¡¯ve examined them.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d think that would be simple,¡± Montgomery muttered, the stem of his pipe clamped between his teeth. Jonathan nodded in agreement.

    ¡°Especially since there are additional temptations here. Unless other scavengers have found this place ¨C which I feel is unlikely ¨C there is a significant amount of gold and silver that can be pried from the rooms below. But it is a hazardous endeavor without an understanding of the machines therein.¡±

    ¡°Ya hear that?¡± Montgomery said, half in fondness and half in frustration as he looked around the bridge. ¡°It¡¯s fool¡¯s gold. I¡¯m sure Mister Heights will have no problem helping us all secure a fortune but don¡¯t go getting ideas about doing it yourself. We¡¯re already shorthanded, and we don¡¯t need to lose anyone else. Make sure the rest of the crew gets the message, Smythe.¡±

    ¡°Aye,¡± said the bos¡¯n.

    ¡°And lets get tethered. That looks like a likely anchor.¡± Montgomery pointed at metal tower with his pipe stem, one with withered stone clinging to it like sinew and projecting from one side of the dome. ¡°Might even be able to use some of that steel. Unless that¡¯s a problem, Mister Heights?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe so,¡± Jonathan said with a frown. ¡°I¡¯ve had no issues taking anything, though I am no metallurgist and I trust you will test the material before relying upon it.¡±

    ¡°¡¯Course,¡± Montgomery said, and nodded to the bos¡¯n, who in turn began to relay orders, both on the bridge and through the speaking-tubes. The Endeavor¡¯s searchlights focused on the tower and two men in flight suits appeared, carrying the tethers down to the metal lattice in question. The ship came to a halt, far more gently than the last time. The deck swayed and shuddered for a moment, and that was it.

    ¡°So what do you need here, ¡®side from the money?¡± Montgomery asked, looking out over the dome.

    ¡°As I said, the machinery still works. One of the mechanisms will proof the Endeavor against some of the places we must go in the East.¡± Jonathan knew that modifying a ship with nonhuman technologies was one of the sticking points for either captain or inquisitor, which was why he hadn¡¯t mentioned it until that moment. Now that they had come so far, there was really no choice.

    ¡°And what exactly are you planning to do to my ship?¡± Montgomery said after a long, thoughtful silence. He certainly had no enthusiasm for the idea, but he hadn¡¯t exploded either, which was better than most.

    ¡°There is a chamber, which takes some doing to open up, but it is large enough to fit an airship and will bathe it in a protective liquid radiance.¡± Jonathan gestured around the bridge with his cane, taking in the Endeavor¡¯s dimensions. ¡°The exact secrets are lost to time, but once completed the hull and envelope ¨C and any equipment left within the chamber ¨C will be proof against much of the unnatural weather we will be facing.¡± He held up a warning finger. ¡°I would not advise any living person be aboard when this is done, so we will have to establish a temporary camp at least.¡±

    Montgomery growled deep in his throat, looking out at the desiccated city. He sounded like an animal grumbling about having to leave its den, but didn¡¯t actually argue. Instead he turned to the bos¡¯n with a frown.

    ¡°Have the men check the outpost equipment. Prepare for time on the surface.¡±

    ¡°Aye, Captain,¡± the bos¡¯n said. Seeing that all was well in hand, Jonathan left the bridge to prepare himself to disembark, only to find Eleanor lounging against the wall at the top of the staircase.

    ¡°So I hear there¡¯s gold down there,¡± Eleanor said, eyes shining. ¡°Is this where you picked up that fortune of yours?¡±

    ¡°That would be telling,¡± Jonathan demurred. ¡°But it is quite obvious the former inhabitants had a different attitude toward the stuff than we do. Though my warning applies to you as well. The machines of those who built Angkor Leng are not to be treated lightly.¡±

    ¡°Spoilsport,¡± Eleanor said, but without any real force behind it. ¡°Strange, though. What did they do with it, build walls from it or something?¡±

    ¡°Or something,¡± Jonathan replied. ¡°They built devices with it. I am not certain how or why, but most of it is still functional so I cannot impugn their craft. Obviously, removing the metal destroys the machine ¡ª there are entire sections of the city that are inaccessible thanks to greed.¡±

    ¡°I can restrain myself, I suppose,¡± Eleanor said, and sauntered back to her cabin. Jonathan continued on his way, retrieving the books with translation notes. While he had been through the process before, he did not wish to trust the Endeavor¡¯s integrity solely to his memory.

    Eleanor joined him on the bottom deck as the men finished rigging the descent line, hot air blowing through the open hatches. He¡¯d forgotten what Angkor Leng was like; an oven outside for no discernable reason, yet inside was just slightly too cool to be comfortable. The atmosphere was like a physical blow as Jonathan readied himself to descend into Angkor Leng, the city of fever and gold.

    Looted down to its foundations, a person could buy Beacon with the proceeds. Yet anyone who tried would not live to tell the tale, as the machines were unpredictable, deadly, and important. Without them, that which was under the city would pour forth, and any would-be looter would not survive. Perhaps Jonathan should have revealed that as well, as now they had seen the doom under Tor Ilek he had some idea of what might be lurking there. Yet he didn¡¯t, for if there was one Society man aboard, there might be another, and he didn¡¯t want to give them ideas.

    Let the men indulge their greed just a little, and greater trouble would pass them by.

 Chapter Sixteen

    Jonathan¡¯s cane clicked on the massive bright blue tile underfoot as he stepped off the descent tether and onto the dome. Eleanor dropped down next to him, followed by Sarah, the short and dark maid. Marie seemed to be remaining aboard, and Jonathan approved. If there were another Society agent aboard, best to have someone willing to apply appropriate force to them.

    ¡°Where does this heat come from?¡± Eleanor asked, fanning herself as she squinted around, though there was nothing to see beyond the Endeavor¡¯s lights. ¡°I saw a river; shouldn¡¯t it be cool here?¡±

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t tell you,¡± Jonathan said absently, turning about to find where the nearest descent might be. ¡°It¡¯s better inside, though.¡± The remaining airmen of the detachment landed with thumping and scuffing of boots, all of them armed and wary. Their weapons probably wouldn¡¯t be necessary, but there was no such thing as being too cautious.

    He pointed with his cane, indicating a ramp set into the edge of the dome, and they made their way cautiously across the slanted surface. Antomine was the last to arrive, also bringing only one guard. Jonathan wasn¡¯t sure whether that was due to some parity with Eleanor, or if he too worried about troubles on the ship while they were gone. Regardless of the reason, the party clustered at the door, which bore the same seamless design as Tor Ilek, and the dark interior hit them with a hammer of cold air and the growl of distant machinery.

    The descent was mostly silent, people listening to the subtle noises of still-functional engines and pistons humming within the walls and under the floor. The dried and shrunken stone had torn in places to become windows into the hidden world of the ancient mechanisms, small apertures where metal gleamed in the zint-light. Sometimes the gears and axles moved with desultory slowness, other times they were so fast any details were blurred to nothing.

    When they emerged from the base of the ramp, onto the floor of the dome, a sudden outpouring of light from the dome ceiling sent them blinking in frozen shock ¡ª another detail Jonathan had forgotten. The fixtures made Jonathan¡¯s lamp redundant, as they revealed the hidden degrees that the ancient race had so casually used, and the white glow cast strangely green-hued shadows upon the walls.

    ¡°Do not touch the machinery,¡± Jonathan warned, as he led them across the parched and cracked stone of the floor. Some of the rents opened into depths so great that they appeared black despite the light, while others simply exposed mindlessly working gears and pistons. There was a terrible power there, even in those that seemed to move slowly. A careless brush with some moving component could be enough to crush and mangle a limb or body entire.

    The street-level door was wedged open, metal bars hammered into the seamless track, and there were prints in a drifting of dust just inside. Jonathan pointed them out before anyone could take alarm.

    ¡°This is from the last expedition. We stayed here three weeks, though I do not believe it will take so much time on this occasion.¡± Seeing no questions, he stepped out again into the feverish heat that inundated the city, consulting his notebook as he walked briskly forward. More lights woke of their own accord, embedded into walls in a pattern that both drew and confused the eye, hinting at arcane symbology just beyond his grasp.

    A glance back showed that at least one airman had been ensnared by the sight, but Antomine was there to keep them moving along. Jonathan had to be equally cautious on the tiled roads as he had on the floors, for pipes and channels ran beneath each shrunken causeway, some of which leaked strangely colored fluids or dense and oily vapor. In places they were forced to detour solely to avoid contact with the pollution, which Jonathan knew was deadly or worse.

    ¡°What the hell?¡± The utterance came from one of the airmen, as he shone a lantern past the bounds of the city¡¯s illuminated streets and onto a column of iridescent smoke, sheened like oil over water. At the edge of the column was what seemed to be a statue of a man, headless but contorted in great agony. Jonathan paused to address the question.

    ¡°That is what happens when someone does not listen. On our last expedition, several members of the crew decided to go treasure hunting by themselves. That is one of them.¡± Jonathan had little sympathy for the man, though it was headless by way of a mercy, just in case there had still been a mind in the distorted statue the poison had created. ¡°So long as you do not go where you shouldn¡¯t, or touch what you shouldn¡¯t, there should be no danger.¡±

    Suitably chastened, they continued through the streets, Jonathan frequently consulting the hand-drawn map in his notebook. Here and there symbols were imprinted over doors, or at crossroads, and while some could be translated, others were too dangerous to render into comprehensible language. He very firmly refused to consider what the words might imply, what larger pattern they may create, for that way lay madness.

    It had taken many doses of laudanum for Professor Loren to become articulate after his work on the translations, and even that hadn¡¯t saved him. The man had seemed coherent enough but had vanished without warning one day from inside his airship cabin, along with all his research materials. Only his shadow, head tilted to look upward, papers and books bundled under his arm, had remained, etched permanently into the hull. Jonathan had no wish to meet the same fate, but as nobody else was capable of understanding the symbology, he felt no need to relate this particular tale. The headless statue was warning enough.

    He carefully navigated several blocks, until reaching an area where the damage was not so severe and the city lights were brighter. One particular dome seemed to be more metal than stone, enormous brassy panels covering the front and each of them labeled with ominous symbols. Jonathan knew from the translations that their meaning was intended to be inoffensive, but the buildings of Angkor Leng had knowledge entirely orthogonal to human experience. The most mundane of their concepts ¨C especially the most mundane concepts ¨C were dangerous to understand.

    Jonathan depressed a small, near-invisible square in the front of one of the panels, the entire block of brass sliding silently to one side despite its size. The revealed interior was in slightly better repair then most of the city, simply because it was mostly metal rather than stone, the strange lights winking on one by one. The floor was composed of steel circles connected by bronze walkways, with stone only filling the portions between. When Jonathan stepped into the cool interior, the sound of machinery grew louder, the platforms vibrating subtly. He heard gasps behind him, but not for the size of the room or the complex controls visible on the far side. It was for the gold.

    The upper half of the dome was dominated by massive branches of solid gold, extending from brass casings set at intervals high up on the walls. Each of them divided, then divided again, forming a sort of tangled rootlike structure that corresponded to no understanding of mechanisms that Jonathan was familiar with. Yet mechanisms they were, shifting and rotating and sliding, connecting and disconnecting from each other as if the entire apparatus were liquid.

    ¡°How does that even work?¡± Antomine stopped inside the doorway, looking upward and studying the golden spectacle.

    ¡°I¡¯m not certain, and it might be best not to understand too much,¡± Jonathan said, looking around the room to ensure everything was as he remembered it. ¡°It surely doesn¡¯t use any human principles of design.¡± Antomine grunted, and Jonathan strode across to the controls. They were, for the most part, familiar enough ¡ª buttons, levers, and wheels, but the arrangement was not built for human anatomy or perception and operating them put a subtle strain on the body.

    The extent of the console¡¯s abilities was a mystery, as most of what they knew came from translated scraps of actual instructions, found in a bound metallic book. The few attempts to try other things had generated very little result, aside from making the intricate gold mechanism shift and change. There had been some brief experimentation, but one ill-considered series of inputs had resulted in a terrible shaking and rumbling from beneath, and after that none had wished to test further.

    ¡°I guess we can¡¯t take any of this gold,¡± Eleanor said, looking up at the fortune with avaricious eyes.

    ¡°Indeed not. It would be a poor idea.¡± Jonathan opened the appropriate notebook, carefully reviewing the series of inputs he needed. ¡°That is not the only instance of such a mechanism, however. There are others, already damaged, that might be scavenged.¡±

    ¡°So why didn¡¯t you strip them when you were here last time?¡± Eleanor asked suspiciously, eyeing the console as she crossed over to where he stood.

    ¡°Gold is heavy,¡± Jonathan replied. ¡°There was a plan to return here on our way back.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± Eleanor said, understanding. ¡°Good problem to have. Only having to worry about having enough cargo space to hold your loot.¡±

    ¡°I thought you would like it,¡± Jonathan said with some amusement, and turned his attention to the careful business of operating the controls. With each pressed button, each pulled lever, and each turn of the brass wheels, the branching gold device above them shifted and changed. It went from looking like tangled tree roots to a shifting mandala wheel, to innumerable connected spheres that hurt the eye to regard. At the end of the sequence it returned to its original form, but the massive doors of the nearby dock ground open

    ¡°This seems suspiciously peaceful compared to our previous excursions,¡± Antomine remarked. ¡°I find it hard to believe that if the city is alive, nothing has come to inhabit it.¡±

    ¡°Nothing in the here and now,¡± Jonathan replied absently, stepping away from the controls and turning to the far wall, where another of the great brass plates was moving. ¡°There is evidence of some prior habitation, and as before ¡ª the underground is off-limits.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s down there?¡± Eleanor asked curiously.

    ¡°I¡¯m not fully certain, but at a guess? Now that I¡¯ve seen that strange light from Tor Ilek, something akin to that.¡± Jonathan strode toward the newly-revealed chamber, which was more than large enough to hold the Endeavor and open to the sky. Floodlights flickered on, set unevenly around the walls but more than enough to saturate every corner and wash out every shadow. There were other devices shaped like man-sized gas lanterns, the ancient and heavy glass enclosures fogged enough to obscure the interiors, that hung from the ceiling in rows on either side of the opening ¡ª the source of the radiance that they needed.

    ¡°Someone needs to inform Montgomery to bring the Endeavor here,¡± Jonathan said, turning to look at the airman and pointing his cane back at the massive bay. ¡°I am not certain what preparations will be necessary to bring the ship down inside, but it will need to tether here for a day or more.¡±

    ¡°Sure, but how do we get back?¡± Someone asked, but Jonathan was already scribbling directions and a matching diagram down in a spare page of his notebook. He tore it off and handed it off to whoever was reaching for it, letting them decide the details of their own accord.

    ¡°John, go with Bronson and Carl,¡± Antomine said, taking charge of the detachment, and his silent guard led the pair of men ¨C one brawny and one wiry ¨C back out into the heat. Jonathan planted his cane on the floor, hands atop it, waiting patiently for the ship to return. It was a necessary delay so it didn¡¯t bother him, but some of the airmen were starting to huddle into themselves from the chill in the air, and Eleanor became frustrated within a minute.

    ¡°It¡¯s going to take hours to get the Endeavor in here and battened down,¡± she said, slouching against the wall with her hands tucked into her greatcoat. ¡°Why don¡¯t you show us where we can actually get gold? It¡¯s not fair that I have to stand here watching that mess.¡± She removed a hand from a pocket long enough to point at the softly clicking spectacle in the ceiling.

    ¡°Very well,¡± Jonathan said after a moment, weighing the risks of Eleanor going off on her own if he denied her. An ordinary airman likely would only be risking themselves, but he needed Eleanor still ¡ª and she was both intelligent and reckless enough to cause real trouble. If there was treasure about, he wasn¡¯t likely to be able to restrain her. He hardly blamed her for wanting to buy her way out from under the Reflected Council, even if it wasn¡¯t likely to work. ¡°Someone should stay here, however,¡± he added, and let the rest of the detachment figure out among themselves who got to go treasure-hunting.

    The only real surprise was that Antomine decided to tag along, rather than wait. Jonathan knew the inquisitor wasn¡¯t moved by material wealth, so Jonathan had to guess that Antomine¡¯s motive was surveillance instead. He didn¡¯t trust Jonathan, as well he might not, though in this case Jonathan had no reason to subject anyone to the secrets of Angkor Leng.

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    His maps beyond the part of the city containing the hangar were patchy and his recollection patchier still, yet he knew enough of the patterns and symbols to infer what was missing. In the dry oven heat he led them past roads with broken pipes or down alleys with cracked and faded friezes that depicted nothing comprehensible. Some sections of the city were in better repair than others, and while the worst sections were the most dangerous they also were the most likely to have the golden machinery that could be salvaged without any further degradation.

    Jonathan stopped at a building that was neither dome nor spire, but rather a square block with low cupolas connected at each face. The stone was so dried and withered that great man-sized rents had opened up into the interior, and zint-lights directed through the cracks returned a metallic gleam. Eleanor slipped inside before Jonathan could even say anything, ghosting through the crack as if she were genuinely ethereal.

    ¡°Yep, it¡¯s gold!¡± She called back happily, and everyone else squeezed through one by one. Jonathan was tempted to find a proper door, but instead proceeded through the entrance last, behind Antomine, sliding sideways to ensure his suit didn¡¯t get scuffed. The building¡¯s own lights did not function, so damaged were the mechanisms, and the steady vibration of the city¡¯s mechanical heartbeat had fallen away nearly to nothing. Somehow the interior was still just as cold as the others, even with the damage.

    By the time he was inside, even before he could light his own special lantern to ensure they could see all that was within the room, Eleanor had scaled up the pockmarked wall and pulled out a small pick hammer. The frozen gold mechanism was some bizarre sculpture of intricate knotwork hanging from the ceiling, and it yielded like the solid gold it was under the repeated blows from Eleanor¡¯s hammer. The fine articulations that let the delicate connections work deformed and vanished as an entire segment pulled away and fell to the floor.

    ¡°Don¡¯t¡ª¡± Antomine began as one of the airmen reflexively reached out to catch it, only to wince as the man screamed when several hundred pounds of plummeting metal impacted his arm. The gold hit the floor with a tremendous racket, drowning out the shouting and cursing of someone who had probably managed to break the limb in question.

    ¡°Gold is heavy, Mister Fredrickson,¡± Antomine said severely to the injured airman, who had the seedy look of one of the hires from Danby¡¯s. ¡°Do not let your greed overtake your good sense.¡± He beckoned the man over and began examining the arm in question while Eleanor prodded the fallen branches with a foot, only for it to not shift at all.

    ¡°This is more than I thought,¡± she admitted. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose I could convince you to carry it?¡± She asked, raising her brows at Jonathan. He frowned at her and then nodded slowly.

    ¡°Trim it and divvy it up between the men. If none else can, I will carry the main trunk.¡± Though he was not interested in the gold himself, he did have to keep in mind that bringing back such a find would improve the crew¡¯s attitude both toward him and in general. He found such maintenance rather tiresome but, as it was necessary, simply carrying an item was no great imposition. After all, he had done it once before and for a far greater distance.

    ¡°We¡¯re going to be rich, boys,¡± Eleanor said, as happy as he¡¯d ever seen her, and began taking chunks off the mass of gold with a metal chisel she produced from her greatcoat. She¡¯d clearly taken him at his word when he had mentioned the availability of gold. That she¡¯d packed such tools to begin with demonstrated that she had possessed either great foresight or great optimism.

    Some of the other airmen had brought tools from the ship somewhat less suited for the task ¨Ccrowbars, pliers, and engineer¡¯s hammers ¨C but they went to it with a will. The golden apparatus was dissected and disassembled, showing a few flashes of silver here and there, though what purpose any of it served was impossible to tell. Men shoved the pieces in their pockets, coats suddenly stretched from the weight of it all.

    ¡°You don¡¯t want any for yourself?¡± Antomine asked Jonathan, though he didn¡¯t show any inclination to try and seize any of it either.

    ¡°Perhaps on the way back,¡± Jonathan demurred. ¡°Though gold seems a fairly tawdry reward next to the more transcendental gains to be made.¡±

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have taken you for a religious man,¡± Antomine said, with just enough of a barb to his voice to imply that he still didn¡¯t, and well knew Jonathan was fixated on something else.

    ¡°I would not dare deny the existence ¨C and importance ¨C of the divine,¡± Jonathan replied, finding himself uncharacteristically voluble. Perhaps because he had finally reached one of his major landmarks, and it was only a short distance to the Crimson Caldera and the true east.

    ¡°Make certain you reflect upon your words, Mister Heights,¡± Antomine told him. ¡°I find myself in agreement with you about the value of less earthly pursuits, but there are demons as well as angels in that realm.¡±

    Jonathan just chuckled. Part of him would prefer to drop all the troublesome dancing about, and just hear Antomine say that he didn¡¯t trust Jonathan as anything more than an obsessed occultist. Yet if it was spoken it would, like all knowledge, alter the world ¡ª and not in a way Jonathan was ready to contend with.

    ¡°Right, just this left then,¡± Eleanor said, kicking at the main branch of gold, which refused to move even with half its weight taken off of it. Jonathan stepped over and stooped down, picking it up with one hand. The metal dimpled just slightly under his grip as he pulled it up and rested it on his shoulder. It would make a very effective club, albeit a heart-stoppingly valuable one.

    They all squeezed back out the crack in the wall, as even from the interior it wasn¡¯t obvious where the doors were and ¨C considering the dilapidated stone ¨C it was possible the doors didn¡¯t work at all. Jonathan tugged on his suit by reflex as he finished the necessary contortions, though it was immaculate as always, and planted his cane as he waited for everyone else to emerge.

    The blue of zint light flickered in the distance; evidence of the Endeavor and her powerful spotlights moving closer, heading for the hangar and its attendant mechanisms. What was neither expected nor welcome was another source of light in the opposite direction, something dark purple-grey and painful to the eye. It wasn¡¯t bright, yet it carried the same eye-watering sting as staring into lightning. Someone else had joined them in Angkor Leng.

    While Jonathan was the first to notice, Eleanor knew him well enough to follow his look and squint in that direction. She sucked in a breath and rubbed her eyes, muttering imprecations under her breath. Yet it was Antomine who recognized it.

    ¡°That is not supposed to be here,¡± he said, though Jonathan found that an unusually inane statement for the inquisitor.

    ¡°What might it be?¡± He asked impatiently, as despite his knowledge and experience he was far from knowing everything. The annals of the Inquisition were especially off limits, dealing with histories best kept far from the public consciousness.

    ¡°The Umbraught ¡ª they consume luminiferous terrestrite,¡± Antomine said, scowling in the direction of the painful dark light. ¡°The Illuminated King destroyed or drove them out hundreds of years ago. The zint light must have attracted attention.¡± Jonathan grunted; the last time he had been in Angkor Leng, their own zint illumination had been far weaker than the Endeavor¡¯s powerful spotlight. It was possible that the Endeavor had lured such a beast, but Jonathan expected Antomine¡¯s presence was a more likely explanation.

    ¡°Is it something we must fight?¡± Jonathan said. Not that he shrank from combat when necessary, but he would rather not deal with anything potentially dangerous until after the Endeavor was properly treated. If the mechanisms were damaged it would close the most promising gateway to the true east.

    ¡°They are best exterminated on sight,¡± Antomine said, his voice hard.

    ¡°But must we?¡± Jonathan pressed, tapping his cane on the ground for emphasis. ¡°There is absolutely no reason to risk something we do not need to.¡±

    ¡°No matter what, we¡¯d better get to the ship and tell them to turn the lights off,¡± Eleanor said, shifting from foot to foot and ready to move. ¡°Unless it¡¯s already too late.¡± Antomine looked between them and heaved a sigh.

    ¡°If they do not find us, I suppose it is not a battle we are required to fight,¡± Antomine said, and Eleanor nodded, vanishing as she took off. Antomine frowned after her, and Jonathan stepped past him as he began to lead the way back at more reasonable pace.

    The biting illumination flickered behind them, though it was impossible to tell whether it was getting closer or not. The buildings broke any sight lines and the city¡¯s own lights often drowned it out, but now and again some reflection from metal or stone stabbed at his eyes. The blue glow of the Endeavor¡¯s spotlights vanished before they were halfway back, but that did little to clarify the matter.

    Antomine was tense the entire way back, yet despite that there was no ambush nor sound of anything nearby. There was only the scuff of boot on stone, the hum and hiss and gurgle of machinery, both functioning and not, and the occasional muttered grumbling from men who were finding that carrying many pounds of gold without the proper tools was an awkward and exhausting process. Not that any of them even held a thought about leaving their prize behind.

    By the time the hanger was once again in sight, the strange city light spilling out from an open door, they were all on edge. Most of the men were rubbing at their eyes, sore from exposure to the Umbraught light, and some of them were twitchy ¡ª no doubt imagining what might be stalking the group through Angkor Leng. Antomine hadn¡¯t elaborated on what the Umbraught were or could do, but nobody wanted to deal with something from the time of the Kingdom¡¯s founding.

    The Endeavor was in the process of being hauled into the hangar, the building¡¯s light reflecting off the ship¡¯s underside and multiple tether lines descending from its body. Stepping inside, the sound of winches cut through the mechanical background of the city, as men cranked pulleys with lines tied to various protrusions. It would have been a terrible idea to compress the envelope to the extent of actually landing, especially as it seemed they might need to make a hasty exit.

    ¡°I need some men for a defensive perimeter,¡± Antomine said, the moment they reached the group that was winding the Endeavor down. ¡°No zint, just cold steel. Everyone has to get off the ship anyway, correct?¡± He aimed the question at Jonathan, who nodded.

    ¡°In fact, none should be inside the chamber while the process is running,¡± he added. ¡°It is survivable but unpleasant.¡± The men on guard at the time had glowed for several days afterward, though there had been no more lingering effects anyone had seen. At least, not before the entire expedition had come to grief.

    ¡°I still mislike relying on some poorly understood machine wrought be ancient nonhumans,¡± Antomine said, eyeing the hangar with distaste. ¡°This is truly necessary?¡±

    ¡°Unless you want to be torn into pieces as we go further east, it is,¡± Jonathan said firmly. He wouldn¡¯t care to gamble on avoiding what was, for the places they had to go, normal weather, and it was entirely necessary for the Caldera. Antomine frowned but dropped the subject, instead setting his Lux Guard ¨C who had returned before them ¨C to stand at the outside door. The guard drew his baton, a length of metal which was probably more effective than most swords, and went to guard the entrance.

    It took several more minutes to finally pull the Endeavor into position, the ratchet pulleys locked into place and extra chains wrapped around handy pipes or threaded through cracks in the walls. Montgomery finally emerged from the ship as men dropped the cargo tethers and began passing down supplies. To live outside the Endeavor for even a short time required a lot of equipment that hadn¡¯t even been opened before, tents and cooking kit still colorful and shining as it was hauled out to the control room. The other Lux Guard and maid were among the last to leave, ensuring there were no crew left behind.

    Jonathan paid only marginal attention to the process, his eyes and ears focused on the sounds of Angkor Leng. Whether the Umbraught found them or sabotaged something that would disrupt the machinery in the hangar, they were irritatingly vulnerable. There were no other places Jonathan knew of that would provide the protection of the lost technologies found inside the city, and he would prefer not to dare the East without it.

    ¡°We¡¯re ready to get started, Mister Heights.¡± Montgomery¡¯s voice interrupted his musing. ¡°Wait ¡ª is that all gold?¡±

    ¡°It is,¡± Jonathan said, looking upward and then glancing at the club that he¡¯d almost forgotten he was holding. ¡°We can¡¯t afford to take anything that¡¯s still functional, but there are areas of the city that are already destroyed.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a lot,¡± Montgomery said, shifting his pipe from one corner of his mouth to the other, half reaching out for the length of metal Jonathan was holding and then thinking better of it. He clearly recognized exactly how heavy it was. ¡°Have to make it home with that first, though,¡± Montgomery concluded.

    ¡°Yes, indeed. That is what I hope to assure here,¡± Jonathan said, stretching the truth only slightly as he strode toward the controls. He lowered the club to the ground and retrieved his notebook, checking and doublechecking the sequence he needed to engage the hangar¡¯s true purpose. The rumbling took on a different tone, the strange gold confection above them shifting and vibrating, flashing as it adopted a strikingly simple and straight line.

    The strange lanterns in the hangar began to glow, but it was not exactly light. It was as if the honey glow of molten gold had been rendered into a weightless liquid, something insubstantial yet ponderous, clinging to every exposed surface as it spilled forth to fill the hangar room and thread through cracks in the wall. Some of the airmen made crude exclamations, but nobody wanted to step beyond the brass plate, merely watching as the radiance soaked into the Endeavor.

    ¡°This will take some time,¡± Jonathan said to Montgomery, the man having followed to watch the operation. ¡°It stops of its own accord.¡± He didn¡¯t know what would result if they tried to remove the Endeavor before that time was up, nor did he know how to stop the operation himself. There was no physical obstacle to flying free, but a partial treatment by the strange radiance might be worse than none at all.

    ¡°Then I guess we¡¯re camping.¡± Montgomery took a draw of his pipe and exhaled smoke through his nose. ¡°Do you know what¡¯s out there? Mister Antomine was not very forthcoming.¡±

    ¡°The Umbraught? No, I only gather they are something the Inquisition thought long taken care of.¡± Jonathan shook his head, not surprised by Antomine¡¯s reticence. Often enough, ignorance was as much a defense as knowledge.

    ¡°So long as we can answer them with steel,¡± Montgomery said. ¡°It¡¯s not like we can hide with that going on.¡± He hooked a thumb at the hangar, which spilled light into the sky as the slow and resinous radiance suffused the Endeavor.

    ¡°I suspect that, if anything, it is Antomine¡¯s presence that draws them,¡± Jonathan replied, looking over to where the inquisitor was discussing something with Eleanor. ¡°He shares in the Illuminated King¡¯s secrets, and that must be a clarion call for those who know how to listen.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Montgomery said, more resigned than disgusted. ¡°These are the risks of carrying occultists, even if they¡¯re the King¡¯s. No offense intended.¡±

    ¡°No, I quite agree,¡± Jonathan said. ¡°We are dangerous.¡±

    ¡°Hah.¡± Montgomery snorted, then took his pipe in one hand and scrubbed at his eyes with the other. ¡°What the devil?¡±

    Jonathan sighed as his eyes began to sting, and reached down to pick up the golden club. It seemed they were not going to get a respite.

 Chapter Seventeen

    Jonathan strode toward the semicircle of airmen gathered at the enormous brass plate that served as the door. It was the only real entrance to the control room, as even if someone scaled their way up to the top of the hangar, they¡¯d have to contend with the strange radiance and its uncertain effects on living things. Anyone coming that way would hardly be a threat.

    The purple and grey of Umbraught light was felt more than seen; indirect reflections leaking in through the cracks in the walls where dried and dehydrated stone had pulled itself apart and stinging their eyes. None of the fractures were large enough to fit a person through, and since Antomine seemed more concerned with the door Jonathan only kept half an eye on them. Unfortunately, there was nothing they could do to fortify the door itself; the brass plate was moved through the same mechanisms they dared not touch, and it was far too massive to try and stop even if they could rig some sort of obstacle. Several moments went by, everyone waiting and blinking and squinting against an intrusion of a light they couldn¡¯t properly see, then the giant brass panel slid silently away.

    A crowd of dark figures pushed through the opening, each of them nearly invisible but for strange reversed colors marking eyes and teeth and clothes. The intruders were shaped nearly like men, and each of them bore a sphere of baffling construction that emanated the painful light the Umbraught preferred. The radiance, faint as it was, still seemed to drown out the zint lanterns and shades, and somehow seemed to conceal their quick movements as they rushed forward.

    The Lux Guard at the door was immediately thrown back. Jonathan didn¡¯t see what happened, but there was a clatter as the baton went skittering across the floor and then a heavy metallic crash as James ¨C or perhaps it was John ¨C landed heavily several feet behind the line of airmen. Even Jonathan was surprised, though only for a moment.

    The Lux Guards had a certain reputation, one their efficiency on the journey had so far upheld, and seeing one so easily laid low made the airmen holding the door take a few steps back. Jonathan had no such problems, and braced himself as he swung the heavy gold club at one of the small, half-ephemeral figures. A black-limned blade rose to intercept his blow but simply snapped under the impact of several hundred pounds in motion. The Umbraught behind it folded over the impact and was sent flying back into its fellows in nearly as dramatic a fashion as the Lux Guard before it.

    ¡°What are you waiting for?¡± Jonathan demanded, taking another step forward and swinging the club ¨C now smeared with dark blood ¨C once again. That jolted the men forward, though Eleanor was faster. Her daggers flashed even in the strange suppressed light, her smile twisted as she vented emotion on the Umbraught. Antomine and his guards were for the moment useless, seeming to be weakened by the presence of the dark creatures and their inverted light.

    The struggle was a brief one, even if there were nearly as many Umbraught as airmen. Neither side was truly trained for combat, and Jonathan and Eleanor, along with her maids, vastly outclassed the creatures. Jonathan mostly used the club, unwieldy as it was, to exercise his annoyance with being given obstacles at every turn. He pulped heads and limbs to demonstrate his displeasure, the length of gold barely stopped by impacts with the sky-dark bodies.

    ¡°Crush their lanterns!¡± Antomine called from behind, and Jonathan brought his boot down on one of the strange luminous spheres. It shattered like spun sugar, and it was followed by others as airmen brought down clubs and swords on fallen bodies. Eleanor and the two maids mopped up the remaining few Umbraught as they tried to run, though there was no guarantee they got them all. Jonathan would have sent runners before engaging an enemy force, and so he had to assume the Umbraught had done the same.

    The last few spheres crunched and the stinging in Jonathan¡¯s eyes went away. He blinked, and glanced over to see Antomine was paler than usual, kneeling by the side of his downed guard. The remaining Lux Guard picked up his companion, hauling him over to the side while Antomine waved off the ship¡¯s doctor. The man scowled but moved on to the airmen, who weren¡¯t entirely unscathed.

    There were bleeding cuts, sprains and bruises, a fractured arm or leg; nothing life-threatening, but more than one man would have scars and need light duty for a time. While the ship¡¯s doctor busied himself, Jonathan inspected the Umbraught more closely, finding them uncomfortably human-like, but twisted and distorted and wrought in colors no healthy flesh would ever take. With their own peculiar light gone the bodies themselves were fading from sight, growing ever more ephemeral and unreal. It seemed their very existence was incompatible with that of humans, the light that sustained them wholly opposed to the zint that human civilization was built upon.

    Eleanor cursed under her breath as a dark, glass-like dagger dissipated like vapor from her hands. Jonathan watched as the bloodstains on his club wisped away into nothing, then turned to close the big brass door, having lost interest in their would-be assailants. The only question was whether more would arrive before the procedure had finished.

    ¡°Mister Heights, your assistance please.¡± Antomine called from behind him, and Jonathan turned with some degree of surprise. The inquisitor beckoned him over and, intrigued, Jonathan strode over to where Antomine crouched by the side of his injured guard. He left the club leaning against a crate on the way, as whatever Antomine needed wouldn¡¯t include several hundred pounds of gold.

    ¡°If you could, we need some privacy and I will need you to remove this armor,¡± Antomine said, pointing at where part of the helmet had been crumpled like cheap tin ¡ª yet there was no blood, nor was the guard making any noises of pain. Jonathan grunted and provided the first request by simply taking a length of tent cloth and a couple of weighted poles from the supplies to form an impromptu shield. Removing the helmet was no real problem, the stiff steel groaning but yielding as he forced it apart, tearing the metal open rather than trying to pull it off.

    The face under the helmet was not a human one. Not quite. Jonathan found himself entirely unsurprised as Antomine prodded a figure apparently composed of colored wax, the face formed and shaped and still bearing the marks of someone¡¯s hand shaping the material. Liquid zint leaked out from the crack that ran from the base of the glossy jaw up to its temple, the normal blue-white color oddly faded and faint.

    Antomine muttered to himself as he prodded the wound, though Jonathan would hesitate calling it such when the Lux Guard wasn¡¯t even alive. With deft fingers he resealed the wax and took his inquisitor¡¯s seal with its softly glowing coin, pressing it against the guard¡¯s forehead. Jonathan watched closely, but there was no effect that he could see. Judging by Antomine¡¯s expression, there was none he could see either.

    ¡°Be damned with those Umbraught,¡± he muttered. ¡°I knew I shouldn¡¯t have let the Lux Guard near them.¡± He glanced over at Jonathan and raised his eyebrows. ¡°No comment?¡±

    ¡°The situation seems clear enough to me,¡± Jonathan replied. Perhaps Antomine was far too impressed by his own secrets, if he thought wax men animated by liquid zint to be anything more than a passing curiosity. It at least explained why Jonathan had never seen either of them without their armor, though that particular detail hadn¡¯t worried him before. Antomine stared at him a moment, then snorted.

    ¡°I suppose this is why I asked you for help. It goes without saying that this should remain a secret,¡± he said, and waved at the helmet. ¡°If you could close that up again.¡±

    Returning the helmet to its prior state was somewhat more difficult, and the ragged edges of torn metal didn¡¯t quite mesh, but it was enough to hide the wax nature of the flesh underneath. Antomine regarded the body ¨C or mechanism, depending on perspective ¨C and sighed. Then he nodded to the other Lux Guard, which picked up the armored corpse.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have the tools to address this here,¡± Antomine said. ¡°I would need raw terrestrite as well.¡±

    ¡°We will be refueling after the Caldera,¡± Jonathan replied. ¡°If you think it can keep until then.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s worth trying.¡± Antomine stood, apparently content the issue was decided, and turned to look at the entrance. ¡°If there¡¯s a nest of Umbraught here, it must be purged. Now that they know zint exists, they¡¯ll hunt it down. Should they go west, there is no telling how much damage could be done.¡±

    ¡°We are not a navy,¡± Jonathan disagreed, having no interest in taking time out of the journey to sunlight to pursue the Inquisition¡¯s interests. ¡°You know we don¡¯t have the time or resources to survey and cleanse a city the size of Angkor Leng.¡± Whether the Umbraught were actually a threat he didn¡¯t know, but he had neither the time nor the inclination to pursue such a distraction.

    ¡°Mister Heights!¡± Antomine said sharply, drawing himself up and squaring his shoulders. ¡°We cannot simply pass a threat by because you find it to be inconvenient. Civilization is built by doing more than the bare minimum to get by. Everything we do now can make it easier for those who come after us ¡ª or more difficult.¡±

    ¡°I admit these thing seem a threat to you, but not the rest of us,¡± Jonathan said scornfully. ¡°Nor have you offered any suggestion how we would possibly approach the problem.¡±

    ¡°You have a number of things packed away that can do tremendous damage,¡± Antomine said sourly. ¡°Your fire dust or unflame, not to mention whatever relics you have stashed in your cabin. And while you may not find the Umbraught personally dangerous, it would not take much effort on their part to drain the zint from the engines and render us bootless. If you don¡¯t find the fellowship of man to be sufficient incentive, that should be.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± Jonathan said, more than a little irritated that he hadn¡¯t considered that possibility himself. ¡°I will put my mind to what can be done.¡± Antomine had the good grace simply to nod, and then went back to staring at his fallen ¨C or rather, broken ¨C Lux Guard.

    Jonathan left him to his contemplations, hunting down a collapsible seat from the supplies retrieved from the ship and sorting through his notebooks. Antomine had a point, but to expect Jonathan to conjure some solution other than a manual search was exceedingly optimistic. He would try, but most of what he had brought was meant to protect or hide, not destroy. Even trying to cover the city with fire dust wouldn¡¯t work very well, as it¡¯d expose the Endeavor to whatever enemy forces there might be.

    A small commotion pulled his attention to the book, and he looked up to see a group of men hauling up the golden club, presumably so it could be reduced to something smaller and more portable, and shook his head. It wasn¡¯t that heavy; he presumed that it was more that people simply wanted to lay hands on something that valuable. It wasn¡¯t every day that several thousand gold coins worth of raw metal came along.

    ¡°Thanks for not telling on me,¡± Eleanor said, dragging her own chair over next to him and dropping into it. ¡°No wonder they¡¯re so damned creepy.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not my job to keep secrets he can¡¯t keep himself,¡± Jonathan said mildly, since Antomine really should have checked on Eleanor¡¯s whereabouts before asking for Jonathan¡¯s help. True, she was a bit difficult to keep track of at times, but Antomine already knew that. ¡°It does explain why I couldn¡¯t tell the difference between them.¡±

    ¡°Really? I could,¡± Eleanor said, shooting him a look that he mostly ignored as he flipped pages in his notebooks. ¡°You know, it¡¯s interesting to know there¡¯s something that just completely counters the Illuminated King¡¯s power.¡±

    ¡°No surprise it¡¯s been kept secret,¡± Jonathan said. ¡°If you¡¯re thinking you can use this to barter with your friends on the Reflected Council, I wouldn¡¯t. Some things are just too dangerous to bring to light.¡±

    ¡°Was that a joke?¡± Eleanor gave him a startled look, and Jonathan paused.

    ¡°The wordplay was not intentional,¡± he admitted.

    ¡°You used to joke all the time,¡± she said, half by way of explanation and half in reminisce. ¡°But not since you came back.¡± Jonathan had nothing to say about that, merely raising his eyebrows at something he was not certain was even an insult.

    ¡°Anyway, I suppose you¡¯re right,¡± she continued, brushing past the issue after a brief pause. ¡°We did already get a good amount of loot.¡± That was vastly understating the value of the precious metals waiting to be loaded into the Endeavor¡¯s hold. The total exceeded the amount that Jonathan had used to pay for the expedition, and while that was divided among the crew and passengers, no matter how the shares worked out in the end, nobody was going to be impoverished. ¡°It¡¯s just that I¡¯d like a few extra daggers to deal with people back home.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d worry less about that than completing the journey and returning home with what you¡¯ve got already.¡± Jonathan was certain Eleanor would be entirely happy going back now, since she surely had no investment in sunlight. That made their connection far more tenuous, for he could no longer rely on Eleanor¡¯s own interest to drive her forward ¡ª though he was sure she would still leap to seize upon any treasure that crossed their path.

    ¡°Yeah, so this better keep our ship intact,¡± Eleanor said, eyeing the hanger where the enigmatic liquid light still dripped from the strange lanterns. ¡°Gotta say I feel better about outnumbering the King¡¯s people now. We still don¡¯t really know what Antomine can do but I never liked my chances with those Lux Guards of his.¡±

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°Hopefully it will never come to actual combat,¡± Jonathan replied, turning a page in his notebook again. ¡°I suspect his particular talents will be useful for some time to come.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, plus nobody likes killing a priest.¡± Eleanor said with the assurance of someone who knew. Jonathan looked up from his notebook, but Eleanor didn¡¯t elaborate. ¡°Got any thoughts about how to deal with these zint-eaters?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Jonathan said bluntly. ¡°It¡¯s rather extreme, however, so I am trying to think of another.¡±

    ¡°If you think it¡¯s extreme, that sounds like it¡¯s something I ought to be scared of.¡± Eleanor leaned over, trying to peek at his notebook.

    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t,¡± Jonathan warned, but too late as Eleanor looked away, clapping her hand over her mouth as she gagged. ¡°It takes some time to get acclimatized to the symbology I use for the more important things,¡± he told her, unperturbed.

    ¡°You¡¯re ¡ª ugh! You¡¯re not wrong,¡± she said, withdrawing a handkerchief from her pocket and scrubbing at her lips.

    ¡°No matter what I find, I believe we should be prepared to leave the moment the treatment is finished.¡± There was no timer he could see, and he hadn¡¯t looked at a clock when it started, but there were some hours yet before it would finish and a serious attack by the Umbraught would be inconvenient.

    ¡°I can see you worrying,¡± Eleanor said, straightening from her slump. ¡°We should just set up some defenses!¡± She waved her hand airily, as if he could summon such out of the air. ¡°I guess the guns we got won¡¯t work but isn¡¯t that why you brought everything else?¡±

    ¡°It is,¡± Jonathan said, rising. ¡°And it would be a better use of my time than mulling over something for which I already have a solution.¡± One that would have to wait until the time was right.

    While either of the products from the Cult of Fire would form a temporary barrier, they also ran the risk of damaging something the mechanisms needed. Instead he went through the items that he had removed from the ship and picked up the stick of incense, considering it for a moment before glancing at Eleanor.

    ¡°A match, if you would?¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡± Eleanor eyed the incense with interest, rummaging through her pockets and offering him the requested item. He carried it outside and struck the match against the cracked stone of the wall, lighting the stick and wedging the base into a small gap between brass and stone. Immediately a fountain of smoke billowed forth, filling the street and blocking off any sight or sound. Jonathan returned to the door by touch, stepping inside and glancing at the airmen still lingering by the door on watch.

    ¡°Do not leave without a tether, or you may not be able to find your way back. The incense should last several hours; long enough for the process to finish, perhaps.¡± It was, unfortunately, the only one of those he had, but they couldn¡¯t afford to be miserly. ¡°And make sure the Captain knows,¡± Jonathan added, tapping his cane on the ground for emphasis before striding back to watch the light suffusing the Endeavor.

    It was far less wondrous than the first time, from the eyes of someone who had been enlightened by sunlight. The honey-slow liquid was so clearly a thing of artifice, a pretense at the purity and sanctity of what he¡¯d seen ¡ª though at the same time, clearly not inspired by it. Whatever inspiration the builders of Angkor Leng had drawn from was something alien and uncomfortable, barely constrained by four walls. It seemed to be trying to burst from the simple confinement of the walls, yet couldn¡¯t seem to quite manage to squeeze through the doors into the hangar or the cracks in the walls. By that alone he might have been able to puzzle out some of its secrets ¡ª if he had still cared to.

    The airmen cycled through watches as the process went on, the intensity of the light waxing and waning over slow minutes. The dark cloud of protective incense didn¡¯t come in through the cracks in the walls, but the smell did; something undefinable but dark and cold and rigid, the scent of an ancient geode freshly opened. It muffled any sound or sight of the outside, and while he doubted the Umbraught could penetrate its obscuring shroud, there could be forces of any size beyond it.

    Deep into the third watch the rumble of machinery changed and the lanterns ceased to glow. The thick, liquid light slowly dissipated into the air, leaving the Endeavor superficially unchanged but with a feeling of being somehow more. It was in many ways the opposite impression given by the strange bronze plaque, where the Endeavor had, without changing, become something strange and unfamiliar ¡ª now she was even more of a comforting and familiar vessel, stronger and more trustworthy than ever.

    ¡°Right, you lot!¡± Montgomery roared out. ¡°Pack it up! Back on board in twenty!¡± Airmen scrambled to put away the cups and plates and cards and dice that were scattered over the temporary camp. The geode smell had faded, and was nearly gone, which meant the obscuring incense was almost spent. Antomine approached him as everyone else carried equipment to the tethers.

    ¡°You have some way to prevent the Umbraught from coming after us?¡± It wasn¡¯t exactly a question, or even a request. It was a requirement, and Jonathan frowned at Antomine from sheer habit. He didn¡¯t appreciate being ordered around, even if it was something he already intended.

    ¡°I do,¡± he said. ¡°I will have to board last, however. Angkor Leng will likely be rather unsafe for some time.¡±

    ¡°What happens to some savage ruin is no concern of mine,¡± Antomine said dismissively. ¡°So long as the Illuminated King¡¯s enemies are removed.¡±

    Jonathan grunted, dismissing Antomine¡¯s peculiarly narrow perspective. All that mattered was that the Endeavor could continue her journey, and whether that helped or hindered the Illuminated King was irrelevant. There was no value in telling the inquisitor that, so he left Antomine to the process of getting his broken Lux Guard up to the ship again and made for Montgomery.

    ¡°What are you planning?¡± Eleanor asked suspiciously, appearing beside him as Antomine withdrew. ¡°I don¡¯t like how vague you¡¯re being.¡±

    ¡°There is danger below the city,¡± Jonathan said, seeing no reason to keep it from her ¡ª but also no reason to elaborate on the details. ¡°Simply disturbing it should be enough, so long as we are already in the air. Captain,¡± he said, addressing Montgomery, who was in the midst of exhorting people to hasten their labors and return to the ship.

    ¡°Aye, Mister Heights?¡±

    ¡°After you loose the tethers holding the Endeavor here, I would appreciate a lift-line for myself, and be ready to rise high and quickly. I have to perform one task from here before we leave, and I would prefer to leave the ground as soon as it¡¯s done.¡±

    ¡°I can do that,¡± Montgomery said, squinting at Jonathan, but then shrugging and rattling off orders to the bos¡¯n. Eleanor looked like she wanted to inquire further, but he took out his notebooks once again to verify what he remembered, and she eventually was forced to return to the Endeavor herself.

    Cleaning out the control room took remarkably little time, the winches hauling up people and equipment. Soon enough the airmen untied the tethers, letting the Endeavor bob into the air, the engines pulsing in a steady rhythm to keep the ship centered in the hangar. The weighted descent line hung from the ship, and the Endeavor flashed her running lights to show Jonathan she was ready.

    He looked over a particular line in his notebook one more time, and then slid it into the inner pocket of his suit. His hands flashed over the controls as he input the particular series of commands that had once caused an earthquake ¡ª once, twice, and a third time in quick succession. The gold mechanism above him squealed and spun, while deep below massive machinery groaned and heaved as the ground shook. There was a drawn-out metallic squeal, then the sudden and shocking crash of something giving way.

    The ground¡¯s motion stopped, and Jonathan sprinted for the descent line with his cane tucked under one arm. As soon as he grabbed on, the airmen above spun the pulley, hauling the line up while the Endeavor rose hastily into the air. The fever heat of the city hammered into him and then redoubled as the artifice that had kept the doom below Angkor Leng failed.

    Something massive stirred below, and as Jonathan reached the deck and stepped out onto the metal a hallucinatory wave smashed into them. A nonsensical jumble of images and sensations washed over and through him, forcing him to rely on his cane to stay steady, yet that was merely the barest fringe of what was happening below. He did not understand it with his eyes or ears, but the events were so imprinted upon reality that he knew it intrinsically, like he knew light or sound or hot or cold.

    Angkor Leng was part of, by chance or purpose, the fevered dreams of some convalescent god, sick and slumbering deep below the city. All the mechanisms below had been bent to the purpose of keeping that dream whole, but he had shattered the stasis and the dream was ending. The fever heat was fever in truth, a sickness so profound that it had brought low something grander and older than any human could comprehend.

    A god¡¯s dream was more firm than earth and stone, and as the Endeavor soared upward the dried and shrunken streets and walls of Angkor Leng twisted and shimmered, vanishing like popped soap bubbles. Gold melted, unimaginable rivers of the precious metal precipitating out of the vanishing buildings and forming glowing waterfalls down into the depths of the revealed chasm. Whispers and hints and flashes of things unknown and unknowable to man came out of that abyss, bouncing off the gold and summoning shapes both fanciful and terrible before they collapsed again as the dream moved on.

    Beyond those hallucinatory flashes was a tremendous figure, resting fitfully in the crevasse, one whose shape and size baffled any rational processes. The sight of the strange being was entrancing and enticing, lending further weight to the profound delusions. Jonathan¡¯s hand shot out to hold back one of the crewman that could see out the hatch, and so tried to hurl himself bodily through the opening to reach what he saw.

    Somewhere down in the fevered heat and gold-flecked darkness there was the smallest flash of a purple-grey light, instantly smothered by the phantasmagoric flickering of the landscape below. The Umbraught, whatever their provenance, were simply not real enough to persist in the fevered imagination of the afflicted deity. The Endeavor, far above, had passed beyond the realm of the dreaming and continued east. Jonathan could only conclude that the changes wrought by the strange liquid light might well have been the embodied whimsy of the being, a stray thought made manifest and harnessed by an ancient and long-vanished race.

    Jonathan stood on the cargo deck as the Endeavor¡¯s engines worked, driving them further and further from the buried sickbed, and kept an eye on the airman to prevent him from hurling himself overboard. The ship had already lost too many crew to be comfortable, and it surely wouldn¡¯t do to lose any more. The molten glow of liquid gold slowly faded, as did the hallucinatory echoes, but fever itself still clung to those aboard. The airman Jonathan had prevented from jumping overboard was faintly flushed, sweat clinging to his brow, but his eyes cleared and he wiped his forehead with his sleeve.

    ¡°Thank you, sir,¡± he said, looking a trifle nervous as he glanced hesitantly at Jonathan¡¯s face, but Jonathan just nodded and released him. Under the circumstances there was no call for the crew to be afraid of him, but perhaps the man was simply shaken by events. While Jonathan had some knowledge of what was buried beneath Angkor Leng, the true scope of it had been more than he¡¯d expected.

    Jonathan left the airmen to finish tidying up the cargo deck and mounted up to the passenger deck, finding everyone he passed stirring from a reverie. It was for the best that the controls had already been set before the fever dreams had struck them full force, else they may have been stuck in whatever realm of nonexistence the Umbraught had been banished to. As it was, everyone seemed to be afflicted by a lingering heat, fading but still present.

    Everyone but himself and Antomine, at least. Jonathan was invested in something far more profound than some impotent godling and, while Antomine¡¯s secrets were his own, Jonathan suspected the inquisitor¡¯s obsessive loyalty to the Illuminated King was enough to throw off mere deific delusions. Like Jonathan, he had proceeded to the observation room and was seated calmly, unbothered by the last remnants of the god¡¯s presence.

    Eleanor stood nearby in the company of her maids, shed of her greatcoat and fanning herself while Marie prodded at one of the vents with a screwdriver to try and force more air into the room. Jonathan raised his eyebrows at that, but ultimately he wasn¡¯t the one suffering from an internal heat. Eleanor glanced back as the sound of his cane announced his presence, a calm and collected tapping on the deck, and gave him a mournful look.

    ¡°All that gold, just gone,¡± she sighed, waving her fan at the window. ¡°There was whole kingdoms of the stuff!¡±

    ¡°Enough to render it no more valuable than tin or lead,¡± Jonathan agreed, unperturbed by the loss. ¡°What¡¯s in the hold should be more than enough for the moment.¡±

    ¡°No such thing as enough,¡± Eleanor replied instantly, looking back at the fading glow of the pit. Soon it would be gone, vanished into the darkness of the world. ¡°You know, I didn¡¯t think you were meaning to destroy the city.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s easier to do what must be done when nobody argues about it,¡± Jonathan replied, planting his cane on the floor as he regarded Eleanor.

    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s easier for you,¡± Eleanor snapped. ¡°Not for us.¡±

    ¡°I do not appreciate that you are hiding things for your own convenience,¡± Antomine put in. ¡°It was certainly well worth removing any Umbraught who might have known about our luminiferous technology,¡± he continued. ¡°But we do not need to be kept in the dark.¡± Jonathan barely resisted curling his lip at Antomine¡¯s reasoning. The Umbraught seemed such a trivial consideration, but he supposed it was worthwhile to claim credit for something he needed to do in order to reach his goal anyway.

    ¡°Even I wasn¡¯t certain what would happen, and I judged it better not to distract anyone with the possibilities,¡± he said, keeping his voice bland.

    ¡°In the future, do not make that judgement,¡± Antomine said bluntly. ¡°We are hardly children, to be shielded from the realities of the world.¡±

    ¡°Very well,¡± Jonathan said, though there was only so much he was willing to disclose. Ceding the argument at the moment hurt him not at all.

    ¡°With that gone though, how is anyone going to protect themselves in the east?¡± Eleanor took out her cigarette stick, pointing it at Jonathan before inserting a new cigarette and lighting it with a match. ¡°I¡¯m assuming you were telling the truth that we needed it.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ll have to find other methods,¡± Jonathan said coldly. He was perfectly fine with burning all the bridges behind him on his path toward sunlight. To even for a moment consider undermining his commitment to reaching sunlight was a lack of faith that he would not, could not, countenance.

    Eleanor wrinkled her nose at the reply, then shrugged. There probably were other methods, and the more she saw the better prepared she¡¯d be to seek them out. Or for the Illuminated King to, once Antomine reported.

    Jonathan left them in the observation room and went down to inform Montgomery of their next destination, though it was hard to miss. The path east narrowed down to the Crimson Caldera, at least on their current path, so it was the only route available. After they emerged on the other side, however, it would be more difficult to get their bearings, especially since they would have to take the time to refresh their supplies. Terminus had let them fly much further than expected without needing to scavenge, but it was extremely unlikely they¡¯d find a friendly port until they reached the foreign city of Ukaresh ¡ª if Ukaresh could even be considered friendly.

    Days passed as they flew further east, following Jonathan¡¯s maps and the landmarks below. During that time those aboard, barring Jonathan, Antomine, and Penelope, the ship¡¯s cat, were afflicted with strange dreams and a mild fever upon waking. The near-illness evaporated with the memories of the dreams, but there was no telling how long the crew would suffer from the effect. Perhaps it would fade in time, or perhaps they would suffer it for the rest of their lives. Such was the risk any ran who ventured out into the dark.

    The landscape to the south rose, funneling them away from the sheer, windswept slopes of jagged mountains, one of the east¡¯s many barriers. Here and there were narrow slot-valleys, where any airship that dared venture would surely be dashed to pieces by the ravenous winds, if they weren¡¯t seized by the monstrous inhabitants lurking within and seen only by the faint gleam of luminous eyes.

    The northern approach narrowed, the tangle of wilderness ending in a crushing abyss from which blew a wind that bore the bitter tang of regrets, ever fresh, ever grudging, ever grievous. There was no way forward across that barrier either, not for anything living. It was the red glow on the horizon, at the end of a narrow spit bounded by impassable obstacles on both sides, that was their key further east. The Crimson Caldera.

 Chapter Eighteen

    In the deep darkness of the east, the rising conflagratory glow of the Crimson Caldera drew the eye like a lodestone. It revealed the impossibly high slope of the mountains to one side, a stark slope of glassy stone, and the abyss on the other, a cliff that fell down into a nothingness of such terrible import that none could gaze into it for long. Yet the actual source of the light was not clear until the Endeavor drew much closer and could actually look down into the caldera basin.

    A volcanic eruption had been frozen in time. The churning froth of lava was halted mid-motion, fiery bolides hung in the air, and fractured rock stood arrested in the midst of splintering. Whatever temporal hand was responsible for the phenomenon tugged at the Endeavor as she sailed closer, making the ship shiver, but the protection granted by Angkor Leng denied that touch with scornful ease.

    Jonathan stood on the bridge, watching with sharp eyes as the bridge crew navigated between obstacles. Small chunks of rock clicked and pinged as the hull shoved them aside, sending them tumbling lazily before time caught up with them again and froze them in place. Behind them, a faint blue glow clung to the scattered detritus marking their path, the illumination of the engines held in place the same way as the rest of it.

    ¡°There,¡± he said, pointing out one particular piece of airborne rock. The Crimson Caldera wasn¡¯t just some remote volcano that had been arrested by natural, if esoteric, processes; it had been inhabited, once upon a time. Paved roads stretched across fragments, green fields full of unidentifiable crops hung at crooked angles, halted just as they began to burn. Small buildings built of faceted, gleaming glass were dotted here and there on the pieces of landscape, their panels cracked and crazed mid-shatter.

    Yet upon those remains an entirely different race had constructed a series of towers, rising directly upward from the tilted and canted debris. Instead of glass or stone, the towers were ivory, pure white bone sweeping upward to an open bell tower. They were entirely stark and undecorated, a thing of function over form, even the bells themselves no more than dull metal.

    ¡°We have to listen for the bells,¡± Jonathan said. ¡°When you hear one ring, fly toward it, and only by that method will you emerge from the other side. That is how it is described in ancient records, and any other path will find one hopelessly lost, at best.¡±

    ¡°Shame, this is the best visibility we¡¯ve had for ages,¡± Montgomery said, eyeing the massive glowing expanse in front of them, the sheer scope of the illumination allowing the eye to pick out every detail for miles. Such clarity was an illusion, though, as the very motion of the ship resulted in a subtle shift in the landscape. It was as if they were moving through time as well as space, a thousand frozen moments stacked together.

    Montgomery brought the Endeavor to a halt by the first tower, which rose upward from the canted roof of one of the glass dwellings. The lava cast suggestive shadows through the hazy panels, hinting at people still inside, trapped forever in the frozen time of the Crimson Caldera. There was even a human figure clinging to a portion of tether just above it, forever stopped in the action of trying to open the dwelling¡¯s door.

    ¡°Who¡¯s that?¡± Montgomery said, pointing at the unfortunate man with his pipe stem.

    ¡°Airman Stutt,¡± Jonathan said after a moment, dredging the name from memory. He had been more attentive to the people he traveled with, the first time around. ¡°He was one of the ones who absorbed some of that odd light from Angkor Leng, and thought he would be immune to the effect. Professor Loren warned him, but he was too curious. Or too greedy.¡±

    ¡°We have a bottom hatch,¡± Montgomery said thoughtfully. ¡°Ought to be possible to rescue him without going outside.¡± Jonathan pressed his lips together, but didn¡¯t immediately reply. It was true that an extra airmen would offset some of their losses, there was also the possibility that the effort would risk the ship. Yet he couldn¡¯t articulate any specific danger, so after a moment he just nodded.

    ¡°I have no idea what might happen if you bring him inside,¡± Jonathan said. ¡°It is entirely possible it¡¯s too late, and at the very least you should have Mister Antomine in attendance.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s worth trying,¡± Montgomery said gruffly. ¡°Better than wondering if we could have saved him. Could I prevail upon you to fetch Mister Antomine?¡±

    ¡°Certainly,¡± Jonathan said politely, as the faster the entire operation was completed, the faster they could continue on, and for the moment he wasn¡¯t needed on the bridge. Sometimes the inquisitor could be found fussing over his broken Lux Guard in the cabin assigned to them, when he thought Eleanor wouldn¡¯t notice, but Jonathan found him in the observation room. The inquisitor closed the notebook he was writing in when Jonathan entered, though it was unlikely there was anything particularly sensitive there. So far as Jonathan had seen, they were merely Antomine¡¯s own notes on the journey.

    ¡°From your last expedition?¡± Antomine raised his eyebrows at Jonathan¡¯s description of the situation. ¡°So he¡¯s been stuck there for, what, five years?¡±

    ¡°Something of that nature,¡± Jonathan agreed. ¡°Though I doubt the duration matters.¡±

    ¡°I suppose not,¡± Antomine said, glancing out the observation deck at the fractured and frozen moment of cataclysm.

    ¡°You mean you hope it doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Eleanor said, leaning into the observation room and tapping her cigarette into the ashtray there. ¡°If he¡¯s been stuck there for five years, completely frozen but still aware of it, he¡¯s going to be absolutely gone.¡±

    ¡°And that will be my responsibility to deal with,¡± Antomine said stiffly as he rose from his seat, giving Eleanor a quelling look. ¡°But if we can rescue a man from the darkness, we will.¡±

    Jonathan tapped his cane thoughtfully on the deck, a short rhythmic tattoo, and then followed after. He didn¡¯t hold any personal feelings toward Airman Stutt, but if the man was sane he might well have some insight on their path forward. Even if not, an extra hand would be useful.

    As they descended the stairwell the sound of a bell came, strangely distinct despite sounding from some distant place outside the ship. Eleanor and Antomine glanced around, but Jonathan waved dismissively.

    ¡°That¡¯s normal here. You¡¯ll hear them all the time.¡± There was no telling what the intervals might be, but within the Crimson Caldera the sound of bells was the only one that could ever be heard.

    The Endeavor bumped and swayed as the engines pulsed, the pilot maneuvering carefully down toward the dwelling and the time-lost airman above it. By the time they reached the cargo deck there was already a cluster of airmen around the opened bottom hatch, which was large enough to fit a carriage through. One of the men was peering down through it and shouting directions, which were relayed by speaking-tube to the bridge.

    ¡°Port. Forward. Stop! A touch port.¡± The litany of instructions continued as they arrived, with Antomine continuing on until he was a few paces from the open hatch, while Jonathan and Eleanor hung back. He didn¡¯t trust that the process would be safe, even if he couldn¡¯t come up with any particular danger.

    The pilot managed the Endeavor¡¯s massive bulk with surprising finesse, and only a few minutes later the still form of Airman Stutt and his attendant tether slid upward through the hatch. He was a short, densely-built man whose eyes and mouth were nearly lost under shaggy hair and a bushy moustache and beard, but even so it was clear he wasn¡¯t aware of his surroundings. One of the crew lassoed him with a different tether, pulling him off to the side before the hatch swung shut. Stutt hung in the air as Antomine approached, but slowly, ever so slowly, began to drift downward. At first, Jonathan couldn¡¯t tell whether it was due to the Endeavor rising or if something else was at play, but Antomine¡¯s white-pupiled eyes burned with light and the fall accelerated.

    ¡°That is bizarre,¡± Eleanor muttered, as Stutt¡¯s movement became steadily faster over the next minute or so, the man both falling and recognizing the fall in slow motion, reaching out to catch himself. Nobody tried to help him, for the very simple reason that there was no telling what that might do. It might help, but it might equally spread the slowed time to whomever touched Stutt.

    Time seemed to catch up with him all at once and he dropped heavily to the deck, landing in a crouch as he looked around. The remains of the tether with him pattered to the deck. The Endeavor was obviously a human airship and yet not the same one he had left, so Stutt only looked confused rather than alarmed. Antomine stepped forward and offered him a hand.

    ¡°Airman Stutt? I am Inquisitor Antomine, and you¡¯re aboard His Majesty¡¯s Ship the Endeavor. It has been approximately five years.¡±

    ¡°What? I was just ¡ª Mister Heights!¡± Stutt¡¯s eyes, darting around unfamiliar faces, landed on Jonathan. ¡°Is this true? You look¡­¡± Stutt trailed off, studying Jonathan with confusion. ¡°Different.¡±

    ¡°It is true,¡± Jonathan said calmly, not wanting to imply any undue unfamiliarity. Stutt was more familiar with him than the reverse, and Jonathan had no patience to serve as the man¡¯s guide. Antomine could take that role. ¡°It is mostly through the efforts of Captain Montgomery and Inquisitor Antomine that you have been freed.¡±

    ¡°Ah! My apologies.¡± Stutt recovered with aplomb and took Antomine¡¯s hand. ¡°I¡¯ve never met an inquisitor before, Mister Antomine.¡±

    ¡°Quite understandable,¡± Antomine said, smiling broadly and looking just like an eager youth. ¡°Most people haven¡¯t. As I said, you¡¯ve been stuck there for five years or more, so the question is ¡ª do you remember anything? How are you feeling? Wouldn¡¯t want you to collapse on us.¡±

    ¡°Er, I¡¯m sorry, Inquisitor Antomine. I only know I was trying to open the door and then I was here.¡± Stutt sounded apologetic, and Jonathan nodded to himself. It was unfortunate that Stutt hadn¡¯t absorbed any esoteric knowledge while he was trapped ¡ª though it was still possible he had and just hadn¡¯t realized it yet. That rarely happened, as such secrets burned like fire inside the mind, but it wasn¡¯t unheard of.

    Montgomery appeared from the stairs, and Jonathan merely tilted his head in Stutt¡¯s direction so Montgomery strode over to make introductions. A new crewmember was more in the Captain¡¯s jurisdiction than Jonathan¡¯s, if there was no occult knowledge to be gained or used. Eleanor looked disappointed too, though he wasn¡¯t sure what she expected from Stutt.

    A bell rang once again, somewhere in the distance, and everyone glanced in that direction save for Stutt, who clutched his head and groaned. Antomine instantly reached out to touch his shoulder, looking at Jonathan, who shook his head. The inquisitor and with the ship¡¯s doctor were far better equipped to deal with whatever aftereffects Stutt was suffering from. It would take something far stranger for Jonathan¡¯s expertise to be of any use.

    Even if Stutt wasn¡¯t whole and hale, there was a good amount of grinning and back-slapping among the crewmembers responsible for the rescue. With luck, Stutt wouldn¡¯t be permanently afflicted and could be put to work, and so offset some of the losses the Endeavor had incurred on the journey. Every hand mattered. That was the extent of Jonathan¡¯s interest, and when Antomine and the ship¡¯s doctor began to escort Stutt to the stairs, Jonathan returned to the observation deck, looking out at the frozen landscape and tapping his fingers on his cane.

    Fortunately for his patience, the Endeavor began moving once again not long after, once a third bell came, this time from yet another direction. There was no rhyme or reason to it Jonathan had been able to discover, and nobody wanted to test what would happen if they didn¡¯t follow the prescribed route. The glowing churn of lava and the fixed shockwaves of the ancient calamity threatened absolute destruction should time ever resume ¡ª or should the ship fly into some fragment somewhere that was mere moments ahead of the rest.

    ¡°If we could pull Stutt out, maybe we can grab something else,¡± Eleanor said, interrupting his musings. ¡°I mean, if we see something on the way.¡± She walked up to the glass, gesturing with her cigarette holder. ¡°There¡¯s got to be all kinds of bits and pieces that aren¡¯t simply lava.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t imagine it will be worth the time and effort for a random piece of glass or metal,¡± Jonathan said, not wanting to waste time on useless curiosity. Retrieving an airman had obvious benefits, but he wouldn¡¯t countenance scraping through debris. Anyone who wanted to satisfy their curiosity about the mysteries of the east could do it on their own time.

    ¡°Maybe not, but there might be a person, or some kind of device,¡± Eleanor said hopefully. ¡°There¡¯s got to be more stuff the deeper we go.¡±

    ¡°There is,¡± Jonathan acknowledged with a frown. ¡°There is a city, but on the last journey we only ever saw it from a distance. The bells never led us there.¡±

    ¡°Shame,¡± Eleanor said. ¡°Hopefully we¡¯ll have the chance this time. The more I can bring back with me, the better.¡± Sarah was sitting off to one side, mending clothes, so Eleanor¡¯s word choice was purposefully ambiguous. Jonathan doubted Eleanor was really fooling them, as anyone with two eyes and a brain could see she was restive and independent by nature, but maintaining appearances was important.

    ¡°We haven¡¯t reached the end of the journey just yet. There will be other opportunities that are less fraught than this.¡± Jonathan wasn¡¯t certain what exactly Eleanor was fishing for, or if she was merely expressing some wistful hope, but either way he preferred not to waste too much time in the Crimson Caldera.

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    ¡°I guess you¡¯ve seen this all before,¡± Eleanor said, dropping bonelessly into one of the chairs. ¡°Any idea what caused all this? Another dreaming god like before?¡±

    ¡°Few humans have come this far east, let alone studied its phenomena,¡± Jonathan said. ¡°We don¡¯t have many fragments from other races, either. Whatever civilization was responsible for ¨C or suffering from ¨C this catastrophe is older than the ones who made the bells, who are still older than the ones who built Angkor Leng.¡± Jonathan tapped his cane on the floor, soft punctuation to the gap of eons they contemplated from the observation deck. ¡°The best we have is wild guesses, hints of how one thing connects to another. Often, it¡¯s best not to contemplate matters too closely, as you well know.¡±

    ¡°I suppose,¡± Eleanor said, eyeing him suspiciously. ¡°But you¡¯re an explorer! I figured you¡¯d be interested in all this stuff, at least in passing.¡±

    ¡°Once, I was,¡± Jonathan admitted. ¡°But I found what I was looking for. Once you succeed in your goal, once you have a clear path, the world becomes a very different place.¡± He closed his eyes briefly, letting the sunlight flood through and ground him once again. The exercise did little to cure his impatience, but it did improve his mood. ¡°Take some time to consider what might drive you after you accomplish your goals.¡±

    Eleanor wrinkled her nose at him, but nodded slowly. Jonathan doubted she had put too much thought into it, as simply escaping from the influence of the Reflected Council was enough of a task, and such a goal was always transitory to begin with. The certainty and freedom involved in finding something ineffably profound to pursue was impossible to know or imagine until the event.

    He was certain Antomine would agree, though perhaps with reservations. The inquisitor had nearly the same burning zeal and dedication to his particular obsession as Jonathan did, a passion that Eleanor lacked. Until she found it, he doubted that she¡¯d ever quite understand his perspective.

    ¡°You here after sunlight, correct?¡± The question came from Sarah, which quite nearly startled Jonathan. Eleanor¡¯s guards didn¡¯t interact with him much, preferring to keep their own council or that of Eleanor. ¡°Do you think it¡¯s like the old fable, some alchemist¡¯s catholicon and cornucopia all in one?¡±

    ¡°Nothing so crude,¡± he said, though words were not enough to describe the exact qualities of what he had witnessed. ¡°It is more this: we have seen that the dreams of the thing beneath Angkor Leng were ever so much more than the rock and air we surround ourselves with. Compared to the sunlight I have seen, those great imaginings are merely tales spun by firelight, passing fancies given form only by the closeness of shadow.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± Sarah said, her brow furrowing in a way that suggest she did not. Eleanor pressed her lips together and gave a faint nod, and considering she was privy to her own secrets she probably had some inkling.

    Jonathan¡¯s answer was enough for Sarah, as she returned to her mending without further comment, and Eleanor pulled on her cigarette in silence. The smoke drifted in the air before being pulled into the vents, carried away and outside the ship. There it would join the molten rock, all of it still and frozen, trapped in time.

    The odd mismatch of stillness where there should have been motion wore on the mind after a time, even with the protection the ship gave. Something about the shifting stillness was disturbing to the human psyche, though Jonathan didn¡¯t judge it to be more than an annoyance.

    ¡°I judge Mister Stutt merely needs some rest,¡± Antomine announced as he joined them in the observation room. ¡°He may hate the sound of bells for the rest of his life, but that is a small price to pay for avoiding that fate. Held suspended for all eternity.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know it¡¯d be all eternity,¡± Eleanor disagreed, turning to look at him, and then glance at Jonathan. ¡°We¡¯ve seen ancient things destroyed ourselves on this trip. No matter how old this is, someday it¡¯ll be gone.¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Antomine said, his eyebrows raised in surprise. ¡°That is rather more fatalistic than your usual outlook, Miss McAvey.¡±

    ¡°Maybe so,¡± Eleanor said, taking another drag on her cigarette. ¡°I don¡¯t know, maybe it was just thinking about being stuck here.¡± She waved the cigarette holder at a small rock, little more than a pebble, as it tapped against the forward glass and was sent sliding off to the side.

    ¡°If we have been safe so far, I imagine we¡¯ll continue to be so,¡± Antomine said, shooting a glance at Jonathan.

    ¡°The Discovery was a far slower ship than the Endeavor and we saw no troubles during our entire time,¡± Jonathan confirmed, though he suspected that Eleanor¡¯s discomfort might have more to do with her own secrets than with the situation as such. Inside the Caldera¡¯s frozen time, her understanding of how to eschew light might well be constrained or crippled. Jonathan believed that nothing would ever be able touch his experience of sunlight, but should he ever find it even slightly obscured it would be like tearing out a piece of his soul, or a way of thinking from his mind.

    ¡°I think I¡¯ll get lunch,¡± Eleanor decided, turning away from the view and sweeping out of the observation room. Antomine watched her go, looking slightly worried, but Jonathan wasn¡¯t bothered. She¡¯d likely regain her usual attitude once they left. True, it would take more than a day to judge by his prior experiences, but that was hardly an imposition.

    The ship slid deeper into the Caldera, sometimes changing course after a matter of minutes and at other times having to wait at a bell tower for hours before hearing another. The first part of their journey was mostly over a churning sea of lava, with fragments of dwellings and the attendant belltowers like islands floating above. Once they got deeper into the Caldera, more solid land appeared, entire hills and valleys hurled into the air and caught in the midst of breaking apart.

    Faceted glass buildings were mixed with assemblages of opalescent cubes, which seemed to oppose the buildings in both style and shape but were seamlessly merged together in defiance of that appraisal. In places the cubes or the glass were cracked open from the force of the cataclysm, revealing tiny slices of alien interiors. What was visible in those narrow views was incomprehensible to the eye, jumbled shapes and colors that hinted and suggested but never resolved into anything.

    The sight was a tantalizing one, begging for someone to enter and explore. Jonathan himself no longer felt compelled to try, but he remembered the first trip and ¨C judging from the muttered comments he heard from Eleanor and the bridge crew ¨C the temptation remained. It was all moot, for anyone who tried would suffer the same fate as Stutt, but a more fractious crew or a more biddable captain might have given it a try even knowing the dangers.

    Their route, indirect as it was, took them almost directly through the center of the Crimson Caldera. Jonathan¡¯s prior experience with the Discovery had ended up skirting around the shattered mounds of the city there, where the opalescent cubes were the size of city blocks and the faceted glass buildings grew like mushrooms from the fractured ground. The Endeavor flew above the city, letting its passengers look down at strange vehicles of sharp angles and faceted curves cluttering the broken streets.

    Here and there were even figures of those who once ¨C and still ¨C inhabited the city, things that were long of limb and shining with a metallic glitter. Montgomery studied them through his spyglass, swinging it from one creature to the next. After a while he grunted and handed the glass off to his navigator.

    ¡°Creepiest thing,¡± Montgomery said. ¡°I¡¯d swear they¡¯re looking in our direction.¡±

    ¡°They are,¡± Jonathan said, taking a moment to study the beings. He didn¡¯t need the spyglass. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what that means.¡± The Caldera was still time-lost, still frozen in the shattered instants of destruction. Things did change as they passed from fragment to fragment, like a pane of glass seen at an angle, but they were only the most minute differences and they didn¡¯t sum to any passage of time. The arrow of cause and effect ran in both directions.

    ¡°Engines to three quarters,¡± Montgomery ordered. ¡°Envelope expansion to eighty percent. I don¡¯t want to linger.¡±

    ¡°I fully endorse that, Captain,¡± Jonathan said, paying closer attention to the frozen figures. They didn¡¯t move, of course, as nothing could move in the frozen world of the Crimson Caldera, but with each shift and alteration, subtle as it was, they seemed to track the Endeavor as if the ship itself were part of their strange stasis.

    Jonathan didn¡¯t think that they had lost their protection against the Crimson Caldera¡¯s strange effects, for everything was still utterly still for every moment but the ones where they crossed the invisible boundaries. Plumes of lava hung in the air, rock and dirt and water defied the course of nature as they halted mid-rise or mid-fall. Yet there was clearly some feedback at play, for as they moved onward, crossing from one slice of time to another, the figures on the streets below continued to stare.

    One of the belltowers congealed into view, reluctantly assembling itself atop one of the buildings as the Endeavor drew near. Disconcertingly, there were a few of the strange beings leaning out of cracked glass or ruptured mother-of-pearl, all peering up at where the Endeavor halted next to the bell. Jonathan kept a close eye on them, but they didn¡¯t move any more than the surroundings. Not that he trusted that apparent obstacle; in a place where time itself was broken, the gap between appearance and truth could be far greater than usual.

    ¡°I swear, if I see one of those things crawling up here¡­¡± Montgomery muttered, though there was nothing they could do if motion resumed. Jonathan chuckled darkly, and turned away from the bridge windows.

    ¡°Zint may not be effective, but I¡¯ll inform Antomine,¡± he said, agreeing with Montgomery¡¯s implicit plans. ¡°It won¡¯t hurt to be ready.¡± Jonathan strode out of the bridge, ascending to the passenger level and finding Antomine in the observation room. The remaining Lux Guard was likely the best shot, with artillery or rifles, even if any actual combat was likely to presage something catastrophic.

    ¡°Surely you have some idea of what¡¯s going on,¡± Antomine said, after Jonathan had filled him in on the phenomenon. ¡°You¡¯ve been doing this sort of exploration all your life.¡±

    ¡°Some theories, yes,¡± Jonathan admitted. ¡°Ones that would perhaps be relevant if we were here to uncover the secrets of the Caldera, or the bell towers, or to connect them to other ruins we¡¯ve found.¡±

    ¡°From what I¡¯ve seen, those are not secrets that should be carried back to Beacon,¡± Antomine waved his hand at the frozen time visible through the windows, cast in the glow of molten rock. ¡°We don¡¯t need to threaten our cities with any of this, either the disrupted time or the cataclysm. In my experience, such things cannot be separated.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t argue with you on that,¡± Jonathan said, though he knew that in some cases the risks that secrets brought were well worth the benefits. His own quest was firmly in that realm, but the graveyard near the end of their journey would make it challenging to convince anyone who hadn¡¯t seen sunlight itself. In his mind, it was only proof of the value of what he sought, as everything truly worth acquiring had some risk to it. ¡°I suppose it would be best to make ready for any eventuality.¡±

    Antomine rose and went to fetch his remaining Lux Guard. Eleanor was not in evidence; she had mostly retired to her cabin, but her maids still spent a goodly amount of time on the observation deck, and Marie gave him a nod as she slipped out to no doubt update Eleanor of the events. Jonathan returned his regard to the frozen world, seeing nothing he could exert himself with that would alter things. They were reliant on the bells, and those were under an auspice none of them understood.

    The minutes dragged on, and Jonathan¡¯s frown deepened as no toll came. The inconstant nature of the signal demanded a certain sort of patience, but the still figures in the city below made him uneasy. After so long plumbing ancient and forgotten places, Jonathan trusted his instincts that they had strayed somewhere more dangerous than the rest of the Caldera.

    Finally another bell sounded, and the Endeavor shuddered into motion once again, turning to follow the sound. Jonathan watched closely as the ship slid through instants, seeing more figures appear crawling out of the jumbled masses of glass and cube. None of them moved, but with the flickers of backward and forward time additional details resolved themselves, like a magnifying glass bringing things into focus.

    Most of the watchers were far below them, but some were close enough that anyone would be able to make out the long, vertical slit-like eyes on the stretched metallic faces, each one bearing a lugubrious cast to the narrow line of a mouth. The inhuman features were too distorted to Jonathan¡¯s sensibilities to make out what emotion it truly held, but their interest was clear enough.

    ¡°Mister Antomine? Mister Heights?¡± Jonathan glanced back to find an able airmen from belowdecks, looking faintly wide around the eyes, and Antomine one pace out of his cabin. ¡°It¡¯s Airman Stutt, sirs. The doc sent for both of you.¡±

    ¡°Very well,¡± Jonathan said, cane thumping on the floor with enough force to make the airman jump. ¡°Lead on.¡±

    The able airman brought them down one deck, to the twin hallways of the crew deck, and guided him to a particular cabin. The last portion of guidance was hardly needed, as between the airmen loitering in the halls and the sound of thumping and shouting it was obvious where the problem lay. The crew made way for the inquisitor and stepped further away as Jonathan followed before the ship¡¯s doctor flagged them down, the portly, red-faced man mopping sweat from his brow.

    ¡°He just seemed to go berserk after that last bell,¡± the sawbones said, waving his hand at the closed and barred cabin door from which came the commotion. ¡°He¡¯d been complaining of headaches after each one, but they didn¡¯t last long and he was just fine afterward. Now, he¡¯s, well. I figure it¡¯s something in, ah, your line of work.¡± He glanced between Antomine and Jonathan.

    ¡°Thank you, Timothy,¡± Antomine said, while Jonathan drummed his fingers on the cane. It was obvious why the doctor had sent for Jonathan in addition to the Inquisitor ¡ª the language Stutt was speaking was not a human tongue. ¡°Do you recognize it, Mister Heights?¡± Antomine continued, reaching up to touch his Inquisitor¡¯s medallion with the absent nature of long habit.

    ¡°A few words,¡± Jonathan said, brow furrowed as he concentrated. ¡°One moment.¡± He removed one of his notebooks from inside his jacket, along with a stick of charcoal, and began making notes. His facility with the tongues of the true east was moderate at best, and not set to paper. What Stutt was speaking was, while related, an older dialect and it was difficult to puzzle out the fragments.

    Nevertheless, Jonathan got enough from the ranting. Certain phrases like ¡®I am here¡¯ and ¡®let me out¡¯ made that clear ¡ª not to mention ¡®stop ship, find bells.¡¯ Stutt was talking to the figures, the strange inhabitants of the frozen landscape. He was what they were fixed on, most certainly, rather than what should have been the evanescent presence of the Endeavor.

    Jonathan¡¯s immediate reaction was that it would be best for all concern to simply release Stutt back to the world in stasis. Like most who were exposed to the strange secrets of the places beyond human regions, Stutt had been changed. Yet, he had enough presence of mind to know that no others would agree unless Antomine stepped in.

    ¡°Stutt is connected to the things that dwell here, now.¡± Jonathan informed them bluntly, not bothering to explain how he knew. ¡°So long as he is aboard I suspect they will dog our path.¡±

    ¡°And if he is removed from the Caldera?¡± Antomine asked, with predictable soft-heartedness.

    ¡°Likely it will fade, in time. Perhaps even instantly, given the nature of this place.¡± Jonathan scowled at the door as Stutt shouted some particularly loud imprecation whose meaning Jonathan didn¡¯t know but could very well guess.

    ¡°Then we shall trade efficiency for time,¡± Antomine said. ¡°I shall inform the captain that we need the engines at full.¡± Some of the men winced as their zint potency was, while not yet low, at the point of diminishing returns. At full thrust, the engine would deplete it far faster than normal and until they refined more on the other side of the Caldera they ran the risk of sapping the entire ship¡¯s systems. ¡°Is there anything you can do?¡± The inquisitor tilted his head toward Stutt¡¯s door and looked out at Jonathan from underneath his broad-brimmed hat.

    ¡°I will have to research the matter,¡± Jonathan said honestly. ¡°I have rarely found ways to cure such afflictions. I believe that is more the specialty of the Inquisition.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps, but my options are limited,¡± Antomine said. ¡°See what you can do, Mister Heights,¡± the inquisitor said, more an order than a request, and turned on his heel. He vanished into the bridge and Jonathan thumped his cane on the deck, a sharp crack that had the airmen around him backing away from his displeasure.

    ¡°Ensure that he does not leave,¡± Jonathan said, dismissing the irritation he felt at being ordered by the inquisitor. It hardly mattered, and anything that reduced their travel time was for the better. He climbed up the stairs, and was still on the stairwell when the ship shivered as the engines put out their full power. Then the Endeavor lurched, shuddering and trembling, as metal squealed below.

    The ship had run into something or, worse, something had run into it.

 Chapter Nineteen

    Jonathan rushed forward to the observation room as the ship shook from a collision, nearly bowling over Eleanor as she abruptly popped out of her cabin. She fell in after him without comment, a presence of mind that had impressed him upon their first meeting, the pair of them hurrying to investigate the issue. The situation was obvious enough upon looking out the forward windows: a large tower of amalgamated cubes and faceted glass had congealed in front of them.

    The Endeavor had smashed directly into the side of one of the glass protrusions ¨C something Jonathan didn¡¯t blame the pilot for, as it had likely appeared out of nowhere ¨C and even now debris hung in the air, arrested midflight. The jagged fragments clawed and tore at the Endeavor¡¯s hull and even envelope, a terrible and furious screeching that cut at the ear and the mind. The engines pulsed as the Endeavor pulled away, but shards that had buried themselves in the ship came with them, along with a number of the metallic creatures.

    ¡°Can we fight them?¡± Eleanor asked, taking in the situation at a glance. Her hand flickered and her long dagger appeared, as if she could reach them from the window.

    ¡°We will have to. But mostly, we must remove that glass from the hull.¡± Jonathan wasn¡¯t sure how much the punctures would affect the protection granted them by the ship, but since the entire structure had been suffused with the light, he hoped it would be no more of an issue than the doors and hatches. Going outside ran the risk of being frozen, though there was no telling how long it would take.

    He whirled back to his cabin to grab one of the pistols there, and then caught up with Eleanor by the stairwell. By mutual, unspoken agreement, Eleanor went off on the mid-deck, where the damage was lighter, and Jonathan descended to the cargo deck, where he¡¯d seen a massive beam of faceted glass driven through the hull. Hurrying forward between stacked crates, he found a pair of airmen trying to clean away a mess of cracked wood and spilled parts to get to the glass beam.

    Jonathan tucked his cane under one arm, then vaulted over the scattered brass bolts and steel washers, balancing on one of the crates rather than waiting for it to be cleared away. With a swipe he broke off the jagged knife edge of a tip where it had punched through the hull, and pried away some of the metal that had deformed and wrapped around the intruding beam. Half-in and half-out of the temporal stasis, it shifted and slid unpredictably and tore the puncture open further as the Endeavor pulled away. Ignoring the crew behind him, he reached over to brace himself on one of the structural beams and then grabbed the now-blunt end of the spar.

    Metal groaned and glass shards chipped off as he heaved, forcing the beam back through the hole it had made. Splinters drove under his fingernails but such an inconvenience was not enough to thwart him, his eyes merely narrowing as he plied his strength against the piece of debris. Glass screamed against carisium, protesting against Jonathan¡¯s might ¡ª but he was not to be denied, and with one last despairing shriek it fell away, bobbling and drifting as the Endeavor swept past it.

    Jonathan clambered back down from the crates, avoiding the metal fittings and components that had been scattered over the ground, and removed his handkerchief from his pocket to pluck the glass splinters from his fingers. The airmen stared at him, and Jonathan met their gazes before looking around.

    ¡°Are there any other punctures?¡± Jonathan asked, though he was certain he would have spotted anything obvious. The glass splinters made tiny, crystalline noises as he dropped them on the floor, and one of the crewmen stirred himself from his reverie.

    ¡°I think there¡¯s a smaller one on the other side,¡± he said, pointing to a wall of crates still stacked and secured. Jonathan grunted and walked over, using his cane as a hook to climb to the second level of storage. A faint metallic creaking and groaning could be heard as he approached, driving Jonathan to sever the ropes with impatient haste. The freed crates were easily pushed aside, exposing the source of the noise.

    It wasn¡¯t another piece of glass. Chillingly, it was a metallic hand, punched through the hull, questing fingers splayed and holding it in place. Even as he watched the digits moved, ever so slowly, as the protection afforded by the Endeavor¡¯s treatment began to take effect. Jonathan snorted and promptly crushed the hand in his own, the cunningly wrought metal disconcertingly warm beneath his fingers but bending and deforming just the same. Some vital substance the color of oil and old blood spurted from the offending limb, but Jonathan just pushed the mangled mass of metal back out through the hull and cleaned off his hands once again, tucking his handkerchief back into his pocket.

    With no other debris that could be cleared from the inside, Jonathan hurried up to the next deck, following the sound of shouting and creaking metal to the bridge. He stepped through to find a mess, the forward windows shattered and a long shard of glass, thick as a man, driven through the front to embed itself in the ceiling. Several of the metal figures were clinging to the beam, though none were yet inside the ship and so able to move. The remaining Lux Guard was busy trying to pry the enormous chunk of debris out of the ship¡¯s hull, and even as Jonathan watched the ship passed from one fragment to another, the position of the metal beings shifting.

    ¡°Cut the engines,¡± Jonathan said, and Montgomery looked at him, ready to argue, then realized what he was thinking and passed the order. While the beings were not quite as stuck in time as it had seemed, they couldn¡¯t move if the Endeavor didn¡¯t travel through space. The ship slowed to a halt, leaving only those pieces in and against the hull as dangers. Which was danger enough, as the glass shards continued to tear rents in the Endeavor¡¯s hull and Jonathan knew he was not lucky enough to have already spotted all of the metallic invaders.

    Jonathan stepped forward and pushed the Lux Guard aside, reaching up with both hands and wresting the glass spar from the ceiling, forcing it against its own stasis and driving it back outside the ship. Step by heavy step he pushed it back through the forward windows, the length of glass quivering and bucking as if in terror, and with a final shove it returned to the still time from whence it had come. There were other, smaller chunks of glass scattered over the bridge, but those seemed harmless enough, and Jonathan turned to Montgomery.

    ¡°Any place in particular I¡¯m needed?¡± It wasn¡¯t likely ordinary crew would have much luck removing any large fragments, and Jonathan had no desire to deal with the greater troubles of allowing such debris to persist on board the Endeavor.

    ¡°If you got the lower decks, then no. Haven¡¯t had time for a detailed survey,¡± Montgomery said, frowning at the debris hanging around the Endeavor. ¡°Miss McAvey and Mister Antomine went to the forward guns, perhaps they know more.¡±

    Jonathan grunted and left the bridge, the tapping of his cane echoing ominously as he advanced along the halls. He found Eleanor nearly immediately, standing by the opening to the forward chase gun and wiping a strange oily residue off her dagger. The gunnery alcove itself was mangled, the gun dismounted but intact on the deck, and more broken glass dusted the ground. The story it told was obvious, and Jonathan raised his eyebrows at her.

    ¡°Got it while it was still slow,¡± she said with satisfaction. ¡°Tossed it back outside. Creepy thing.¡± She made the dagger disappear and frowned off to where the sound of Stutt pounding on the inside door of his cabin still sounded. ¡°I wish he¡¯d be quiet.¡±

    ¡°He won¡¯t be, not while we¡¯re in the Caldera,¡± Jonathan said absently. ¡°Where is Antomine?¡±

    ¡°Went back up, to check the above-decks,¡± Eleanor said, her tone making it clear how intelligent she thought that choice was, though Jonathan understood why Antomine had done it. Of them all, Antomine was the one most likely to be able to understand and perhaps even resist the unsettling stillness of the Caldera.

    ¡°I¡¯ll check on him, do keep an eye out,¡± he said, and swept past Stutt¡¯s room on his way back to the stairwell. He found the top hatch open, with Antomine sitting on the uppermost stair. The man¡¯s broad-brimmed hat seemed slightly wilted, and a damaged pistol rested next to him, the glasswork cracked, but he nodded calmly to Jonathan.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t go outside,¡± Antomine said, taking off his hat and fanning himself with it, as no air flowed through the open hatch. ¡°You can¡¯t get far without being affected.¡±

    ¡°Good to know,¡± Jonathan said, but climbed far enough to peer outside regardless. From his vantage at the hatch he could see several beams of glowing blue zint hanging in the frozen time just outside the Endeavor. They had severed or destroyed several lengths of glass impaling the envelope, but were frozen in place after passing beyond the Endeavor¡¯s protective presence.

    ¡°I suppose we¡¯ll have to be more careful,¡± Antomine said, and Jonathan¡¯s lip curled at the obvious and useless sentiment.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± he said instead, and descended the few steps back to the passenger deck, taking a look out the observation windows and the rear windows in the mess. The eerie and silent city stretched out behind them, save for the tower they had just clipped; ahead of them was a sharp wall, split and cracked into a dozen sections by lava bursting from below. They had just had a lesson in how the actual reality could differ, as they crossed time by crossing space, but away from the city he could only hope there was less to deal with.

    The Endeavor was slowly sinking, as the glass impaling the envelope allowed lifting gas to vent. While Jonathan doubted they were in any danger of crashing into the frozen cataclysm, it was clear they wouldn¡¯t have the luxury of flying high over the landscape. Even as Jonathan watched some of the debris slide past the window, the ship shuddered into motion and carefully pivoted to circle around and away from the impact site. Stutt still wailed and babbled inside his locked room, so Jonathan knew they weren¡¯t out of danger yet. He considered whether he could broach the idea of leaving Stutt behind, but couldn¡¯t imagine that Antomine would stand for it. Not unless they became truly trapped.

    He made his way to the bridge, finding Montgomery hunched over the engineer¡¯s console, shoulder to shoulder with the ship¡¯s mechanic, while the pilot was working controls with a frantic haste. They obviously couldn¡¯t send any men outside to inspect and patch holes, but that wasn¡¯t too different from a running battle. Something that Montgomery had experience with, to judge by his orders.

    ¡°How far are we from the border?¡± Montgomery asked, the moment he noticed Jonathan¡¯s presence. ¡°Yes, I know, we follow the bells, but still.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d say we are perhaps three-quarters of the way through,¡± Jonathan said after a moment of thought. ¡°I don¡¯t believe there are any other large cities ¡ª I didn¡¯t see any the last time.¡±

    ¡°Huh. We should have enough lifting gas so long as we don¡¯t run into anything that requires too much maneuvering,¡± Montgomery said, reaching into his uniform pocket for his pipe. ¡°Tell me we¡¯ve got some place to resupply on the other side.¡±

    ¡°There is zint vein only a few hour¡¯s travel, east of the Caldera,¡± Jonathan confirmed, stepping aside as a crewman began sweeping up the glass from the shattered viewports. ¡°There should be the opportunity for hunting, as well, so we can refresh our food supplies. It¡¯s no Verdant Expanse but it¡¯ll do.¡±

    Montgomery began issuing orders again, and the Endeavor¡¯s engines drove her forward while still sinking, coming uncomfortably close to some of the taller glass buildings and cube-wrought towers. Another bell sounded, and with a grumble the pilot shifted the Endeavor¡¯s course. In a rare bit of fortune the new angle still took them directly across the city walls, and the pilot maneuvered carefully around buildings that seemed to congeal from the very air ¡ª or appear like the extra degrees of a circle.

    The pilot¡¯s skill showed as he still managed to avoid them, now that they were moving more cautiously, even despite the slowly leaking envelope. They wouldn¡¯t lose all their lifting gas; the envelope superstructure was compartmentalized for that very reason. Yet the lack of vertical mobility would be a hazard until repairs could be made and the supplies of lifting gas refreshed.

    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    He winced at the sound of something rasping along the Endeavor¡¯s keel, scraping and squealing and vibrating through the deck. Yet that was all that the city and its strange inhabitants could manage, the ship barely clearing the wall and steering around a spray of lava. The red-hot stone passed by just to port, radiating no warmth, as if it were no more than colored wax.

    Then they were out over a broken landscape more volcanic fury than earth. The sound of Stutt¡¯s hoarse screams and thumps, audible even from the bridge, faded away. Everyone relaxed at the sudden silence, hunched shoulders lowering slightly, at least until Montgomery jerked his head at the bos¡¯n.

    ¡°Have Doc make sure he¡¯s still alive.¡± He puffed on his pipe, frowning out the open front of the bridge. ¡°And make sure the cargo deck is shipshape. We¡¯ve got a lot of repairs to get on the moment we¡¯re out.¡±

    Jonathan stood aside to let the men do their jobs, resting both hands on his cane as he waited by the maps. Twice more bells rang, sending the ship in an indirect arc toward the furthest end of the Crimson Caldera. Spotted along their path were occasional pieces of civilization, and once in the distance there was even another airship of a noisome design that made all the airmen who saw it turn white and look away. It was just as trapped as everything else within the Caldera, though its precise origin ¨C something native to the Caldera or an unfortunate explorer ¨C was not something they would ever know. No one was tempted to risk another incident like the one with Stutt.

    The end of the Caldera arrived all at once, as a final belltower marked a terminator between volcanic light and familiar darkness. The light from the churn of lava did nothing to illuminate the landscape beyond, and the zint beams froze in the air a few feet beyond the Endeavor¡¯s hull. Only spotted specks of luminescence, a faintly glimmering river, and a lone sheltershroom demonstrated there was anything beyond the black wall.

    Montgomery ordered them forward, and the moment they crossed the dividing line there was a patter of glass and metal splinters that had been trapped in the Endeavor¡¯s wake falling onto the upper decks or crashing to the ground beneath. At the same time, the light of the Caldera vanished, and the mirrored light tubes facing backward showed only a lone belltower in the spotlights, planted in the middle of a broad, sweeping plain. Fresh air suddenly gusted through the open bridge, smelling of river and rock and growing things, nothing like the cataclysm they had just left.

    ¡°Anything of human stock has no trouble going to the west.¡± Jonathan answered the unspoken question. ¡°You¡¯ll find no barriers like the Caldera on the reverse path. Those who are native find it far more of an issue.¡±

    ¡°Good to know,¡± Montgomery said, peering into one of the mirrored pipes that showed the view behind. ¡°Especially with Stutt on board.¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Jonathan said, holding his tongue on his opinion of that particular circumstance and turned to more relevant matters. ¡°We should be here, Captain,¡± he said, pointing to a particular section of his more esoteric maps. That river will be our guide for some way; the zint deposit we need is perhaps a dozen miles along its length.¡±

    ¡°You heard him, Jameson,¡± Montgomery said, and the navigator started taking sightings. The tops of burly trees and sprouting mushrooms reached nearly as high as the cargo deck, with an occasional whisper as the foliage of what passed for trees brushed against the hull. When they broke through to the river itself, the sound of running water was blessedly normal, for all that it came through empty panes where there should have been glass. The raucous cries of unknown beasts echoed up from below, and the dark water of the river parted for a moment to reveal an immense fin before it disappeared again.

    The only disturbance of note was when a small batlike creature flew into the bridge, emitting a ululating cry that was nearly a perfect match for a flute, and frantically flapped about the confined space before it fled out the same opening from whence it had come. That had given several of the bridge crew a good scare but was ultimately harmless ¡ª a rarity for anything out in the dark.

    Raw zint glimmered faintly where the river had cut a small canyon through the hills, luminiferous terrestrite resisting the attempts of anything to grow over it or siphon its light and energy for other purposes. Actually quarrying it would be a laborious process, but they only needed enough to refresh the Endeavor. Though with repairs and hunting for supplies, they would likely be tethered for days.

    Spotlights showed a tangle of brush in dull purple and puce, roots spilling over the canyon edge to drink from the waters below. Montgomery ordered a few rounds of artillery fire into the landing area, just to ensure it was clear, before he sent down airmen to fasten tethers. The sound of sledgehammers fastening pitons into the rocky slope came faintly from below, and at length Montgomery ordered the engines off. The ship swayed and then steadied as the lines took up the slack, and the captain exhaled a long stream of smoke.

    ¡°Right, we¡¯re settled. Time to see what the damage is.¡±

    Jonathan left Montgomery to it; the crew would need rest as well as the time to survey, repair, and clean up from their encounter in the Caldera. He had preparations of his own to make, to keep the wilds nearby manageable and allow the Endeavor to take the time it needed. There were plenty of things in the east that were more than capable of destroying a tethered airship.

    ¡°Oh, I am looking forward to being able to stretch my legs,¡± Eleanor said as he arrived on the passenger deck. She was already dressed in her coat, with both maids behind her carrying rifles. ¡°I think I¡¯m about ready to snap, being stuck in here.¡±

    ¡°I imagine that the descent tether is rigged,¡± Jonathan replied, stepping aside to let her pass. ¡°Just don¡¯t stray too far before I¡¯ve set up the defenses.¡± He didn¡¯t have to warn her to be careful. Even in the west the wilderness was dangerous, and it didn¡¯t take much to realize the east was doubly so.

    The only useful apparatus Jonathan had left for that purpose was the series of totem stakes, which seemed to vibrate uneasily in his hands as he retrieved them from his desk. He tucked them into his bag and picked up his own rifle before following Eleanor¡¯s example and heading downward. The men already had lanterns set up on stands around the hilltop below the Endeavor, where much of the vegetation had already been burned away by the ship¡¯s artillery, illuminating the odd flora which writhed slowly away from the light.

    Jonathan eyed the Endeavor¡¯s position and paced off the proper distances, planting each stake in turn. The totems seemed to twist the surrounding air, but had no other obvious effect. They weren¡¯t directed at humans, so nobody on the ship would be particularly affected, but Jonathan had been on the wrong end of one before and knew how effective they were. Placed in the proper formation they would provide reasonable proof against mindless and even moderately clever beasts.

    Over the next few hours the airmen cleared out the area beneath the Endeavor to set up a temporary outpost. Jonathan lent his own muscle to the task of chopping vines and clearing brush, that which did not leave of its own accord, at least. In the process they uncovered some potential edibles; tubers, berries, and seed-pods. The ship¡¯s cook would have to do the tests to ensure they were fit for human consumption, but anything would be welcome.

    The ship¡¯s engineer fussed over the gleaming distillation apparatus as it was lowered from the cargo deck, piece by piece. It would take in chunks of raw terrestrite and, through some alchemy only properly understood by very few, would distill it into its proper zint form. Lifting gas was a welcome byproduct, if hazardous to work with directly. Actually mining the raw material would be a matter of time and muscle and the zint-powered pick-hammers they¡¯d brought for the task.

    While he busied himself with the tasks of muscle and brute force, Eleanor and her accompanying maids had been entirely absent. That lack was explained shortly after mining began by the trio dragging several hundred pounds of six-limbed beast back with them on an improvised sled. It bore no resemblance to any creature of the west, with a skin covered in thick, coiled fur like wire and an eyeless, bifurcated head with flat-topped teeth in each of its two mouths. She looked extremely pleased with herself, though of course just one animal barely put a dent in their supply requirements.

    ¡°The stuff on board was getting pretty gamey,¡± Eleanor said, watching the ship¡¯s cook poke at the corpse with a knife and decide where to start dismantling it. ¡°It¡¯ll be nice to have fresh meat again.¡±

    ¡°If it¡¯s edible,¡± Antomine said, joining the conversation. ¡°How likely is that, Mister Heights?¡±

    ¡°Most of what was not obviously objectionable passed the tests,¡± Jonathan replied. Almost all his prior journeys had been on ships that needed to stop and forage far more often than the Endeavor, so he was at least passingly familiar with the results.

    ¡°Good,¡± Eleanor said. ¡°Gotta wait for them to fix the freezers though. I heard they stopped working when we hit that thing back in the Caldera.¡± She fluttered her hand vaguely in the direction from whence they had come. ¡°It¡¯s like we¡¯re having no luck this trip.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not a matter of luck,¡± Jonathan said, leaning on his cane and regarding Eleanor and Antomine. ¡°Mister Antomine represents a power antithetical to much of what composes the east; it is only natural that would find opposition. Then there are certain choices. It was Airman Stutt that was responsible for our issues in the Caldera, and without him we would have had a simple passage.¡±

    ¡°We were hardly going to leave one of our countrymen stranded when it was so easy to rescue him,¡± Antomine said with a frown.

    ¡°Was it easy?¡± Jonathan shook his head. ¡°Out here, compassion carries far more risks than in Beacon. Any troubles you see are someone else¡¯s, and it behooves you to be very cautious about involving yourself.¡± He frowned at Antomine, tapping his fingers against the handle of his cane. ¡°I mislike lecturing, especially as you are more than intelligent enough to know this without me saying it.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I surely know, but the only way to change that is to bring that behavior out here. Civilization doesn¡¯t happen on its own.¡± Antomine reached up to touch his inquisitor¡¯s seal by reflex, then looked to where airmen were hammering in stays for lines to go over the canyon edge. ¡°I don¡¯t have the hubris to think that one ship alone will transform the world, but large things come from small ones.¡±

    ¡°I vote for not getting involved,¡± Eleanor said, shifting from one foot to another with nervous energy. ¡°How are we doing anyway? Any more weird frozen volcanoes to go through?¡±

    ¡°Not that I know of,¡± Jonathan said. ¡°Our next goal is Ukaresh, where we should get the final components needed to reach our destination. Then it will be merely the vagaries of the east until we reach the Arch of Khokorron. Nothing to dismiss, but the Endeavor should be protected against much of it.¡±

    ¡°Now, Ukaresh I¡¯ve heard of,¡± Eleanor said. ¡°Never knew you had to go through that Caldera to get at it though.¡±

    ¡°There are other paths to the east,¡± Jonathan said. ¡°Some are no longer available, and of the others, some were too dangerous or too ill-known. The path we took was merely the best available.¡±

    ¡°If that¡¯s the least dangerous path¡­¡± Eleanor trailed off and shrugged. ¡°At least we¡¯ve got something to show for it.¡±

    ¡°We haven¡¯t reached our ultimate destination just yet. You may find something more interesting than gold in the places we are going.¡±

    ¡°Like sunlight?¡± Eleanor¡¯s nose wrinkled. ¡°I¡¯ll pass on that. I still don¡¯t see why you two are so interested.¡±

    Jonathan and Antomine exchanged glances, but neither of them had an answer for her. Conveying the sheer purity and indominable reality of sunlight was impossible for mere words, and Antomine surely had secret orders ¡ª assuming he even knew the Illuminated King¡¯s true motivation. Then there were Eleanor¡¯s own secrets, based in the darkness and avoiding the light. To compare the two that way was trite, but knowledge was jealous and secrets were doubly so. It was unlikely a mind bent on avoiding light would be able to comprehend its deeper mysteries.

    ¡°Perhaps it is not for you, but there are still mysteries worth considering out here.¡± Jonathan said, and Antomine shook his head, the rim of his broad-brimmed hat bobbing.

    ¡°Best not to take any lessons from this place,¡± he disagreed. ¡°The more inhuman knowledge is, the less human those who understand it become.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, well, I¡¯m here to get rich, not to become some weird cultist,¡± Eleanor said, shrugging it off. ¡°I¡¯m more worried about keeping my skin intact, considering what we¡¯ve seen. I mean, if there¡¯s stuff that can kill a Lux Guard in one hit, I sure don¡¯t want to tangle with anything I don¡¯t need to.¡±

    ¡°He isn¡¯t dead,¡± Antomine said with some exasperation. ¡°Though speaking of which, I need to see about gathering the raw terrestrite.¡± He nodded to Eleanor and headed off to where the hand drills were being unpacked.

    ¡°Who does he think he¡¯s fooling?¡± Eleanor muttered.

    ¡°Better the men have some comforting lie to cling to than know the truth,¡± Jonathan said in an undertone. ¡°Ignorance keeps most ships flying, as no man in his right mind would face the dark if he truly knew what was out here.¡±

    ¡°You know,¡± Eleanor pointed out. Jonathan chuckled.

    For the next few days, all aboard the Endeavor found something to occupy themselves. At all hours there were airmen patching holes in the hull and envelope, replacing glass, or taking turns rappelling down to ply hand-drills at the zint deposit. Pumps pulled water from the river for distillation and purification. Antomine closeted himself in his cabin to perform some forbidden alchemy on the raw terrestrite, though Jonathan rather doubted the Lux Guard could be fixed. If the Illuminated King wasn¡¯t creating entire armies of zint-fueled soldiers, then it was unlikely field repairs were an option.

    Eleanor took herself off on the hunting expeditions, while Jonathan prowled the campsite, lending a hand where needed and going over his notes otherwise. Sunlight was closer than ever and stirred him to restlessness, but he was well aware of the limits of both machines and men. There were no ports in the east with zint, and few with any comestibles fit for the human palate ¡ª barring Terminus, and Jonathan still had no idea what to think of that place. Not to mention limping into dock with such damage proclaimed weakness to all the predators that would surely be watching.

    The weather of the east fortunately left them alone to their work, though once a storm passed far to the south. Luminous rain soaked a landscape that writhed beneath its touch, and velvet lightning, violet and violent, struck the ground. Some few bolts lingered, slowly fading and cooling into towering trees that sprouted twisted fruits before the storm even passed. What that would have done to unprotected flesh didn¡¯t bear thinking about.

    The repairs necessitated a full assay of their supplies, and after all the patching and fixing was done, the state of the hold was less than inspiring. They weren¡¯t out of replacement parts and stock, but were running surprisingly low, especially on such things as glass and tooled brass.

    For most it was a restful interlude, but Jonathan was glad when Montgomery declared the Endeavor fit to fly again. Ukaresh was the last great landmark and the last piece of the puzzle he¡¯d put together from the failure of the previous expedition. It was also by far the most dangerous stop of the voyage.

 Chapter Twenty

    ¡°That is an ill sight,¡± Antomine said, considering their destination through the observation window as the Endeavor approached the city.

    The towers of Ukaresh shone in the distance, the east¡¯s dark mirror to Beacon. No central light marked the city, nor was there a wall like those that surrounded human settlements to keep out the dark. The subdued, tenebrous radiance that marked every street and building blended with the colors and shapes of the east, so that Ukaresh seemed to simply grow from the landscape rather than being placed in defiance of it. The borders of the city were blurry and ambiguous, overgrowing the tangled trees and mushrooms and being overgrown in turn.

    ¡°The purpose of civilization is to create something distinct from the savagery of nature. Mingling it with untamed lands results in madness ¡ª or is the result of it.¡± Antomine scowled at the pale, shimmering colors of the city, illuminating a jumble of different styles crammed together. Squat, rounded myceliplank huts lay adjacent to dwellings made of slanted stone walls, both of which rose over what seemed to be tangled pits of black wire that glowed from within. Some things were clearly human, others clearly not, and many rode the line of ambiguity. Even as they watched, one particular lumpen building raised itself up on stilts like some enormous creature, ambling around the perimeter until it set itself down atop a mound of completely dissimilar style.

    ¡°I would advise being somewhat more polite to those who actually live there,¡± Jonathan said dryly. ¡°The people of the east hold we of the west in no better regard, and there will be worries enough without starting an altercation.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s right though,¡± Eleanor said, staring at the city. ¡°It¡¯s a strange sight.¡±

    ¡°No stranger than any other city we¡¯ve seen,¡± Jonathan remarked. ¡°Less than some, even. This one at least has people we can converse with, and goods we can purchase. You may find it better to spend some of your gold here rather than wait to return to Beacon.¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± Eleanor said, eyeing the panoply of buildings doubtfully. ¡°I¡¯m not sure how much I trust it.¡±

    ¡°A wise attitude,¡± Jonathan acknowledged. ¡°Ukaresh is a place that recognizes few laws save that of power. It pays to be cautious.¡±

    Antomine¡¯s face twisted in something that was almost a sneer, but he didn¡¯t cast any more aspersions on their destination. The Endeavor had little company, as Ukaresh lacked the air traffic of the cities of men. The weather of the east was too hazardous for such ventures without the sorts of protections Jonathan had ensured. Flying over, there were no obvious spots to tether, at least until Jonathan directed Montgomery to a particular building, one that he had used on his previous travels.

    ¡°I¡¯ll negotiate the payment for our berth,¡± Jonathan told Montgomery, hefting the case that he¡¯d retrieved from one of the crates in his cabin. The inhabitants of Ukaresh had odd tastes and appetites, some objectionable and some not, and so he¡¯d obtained a few sundries in Beacon. Assuming the proprietor of the lodging had not changed, the insect collection he¡¯d brought along would be more than adequate recompense for the Endeavor¡¯s place and safety. ¡°You can tie off on those,¡± he added, pointing out the jutting crossbeams of some dark wood that hung out over some kind of rooftop pavilion.

    ¡°Aye,¡± Montgomery said, and began passing orders. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll be giving leave on this one,¡± he added, staring out one of the replaced windows of the bridge at all the variety of not-quite-human forms on the streets below. There hadn¡¯t been enough stock to fully replace everything on the bridge, so the edges were patchworks of salvaged panes held in place with hastily-machined frames. ¡°Everything about this city makes me uneasy.¡±

    ¡°Probably for the best,¡± Jonathan agreed, before descending to the cargo deck in preparation for tethering. Eleanor and Antomine were there as well, the latter with only one guard. It seemed that the damaged Lux Guard was beyond the inquisitor¡¯s abilities to repair after all.

    ¡°Are you certain you wish to leave the ship?¡± Jonathan asked Antomine, not actually interested in the answer but hoping to prompt a recusal on Antomine¡¯s part. The inquisitor¡¯s presence might create issues with those that called Ukaresh home. ¡°This is not a place that is friendly to those of your persuasion.¡±

    ¡°I am an inquisitor, the hand of the Illuminated King in such distant lands,¡± Antomine said, touching the medallion hanging around his neck. ¡°He would certainly want to know the disposition of a place such as this.¡±

    ¡°Very well,¡± Jonathan said, having no wish to argue with that sort of motivation. He saw no reason to provide any special warnings beyond that; they could see as well as he that this was an alien place with alien people. Raw and savage, to the sensibilities of someone raised in Beacon.

    The airmen hurried back inside after tying off the lines, more disturbed by the strangeness of Ukaresh¡¯s atmosphere than they were by the dead places the Endeavor had visited before. Jonathan hooked his feet into the descent line and let himself be lowered to the pavilion, with Antomine and the Lux Guard after. As Eleanor¡¯s maids were on their way down, a small oval door in the wall of the uppermost story opened, the proprietor stepping out to meet them.

    Jonathan referred to him as a man for lack of a better term, because while his general shape was human, the details were profoundly different. Rippling cords of muscle moved under skin that looked black and slick as a beetle¡¯s carapace, and his head had multiple gleaming, lidless eyes and a pair of mandibles that covered his mouth. Eleanor made a muffled noise of disgust and Antomine bristled with disapproval, but didn¡¯t actually say anything as the man approach.

    ¡°Mister Jonathan!¡± The words came out heavily accented but understandable as the man flung his arms wide in welcome. ¡°You have returned! I did not think I would see your face here again.¡±

    ¡°I did find a reason to come east again, Mister Crispin.¡± Jonathan found the man¡¯s effusive friendliness rather off-putting, and to prevent any untoward contact he presented the case with the insect collection instead. ¡°I do not expect us to stay overly long, but I assume this will suffice for payment.¡±

    ¡°Oh, my!¡± Crispen grabbed the case with a sudden jerk, lifting it up to shining black eyes. He lifted the lid and took a deep breath, mandibles trembling. ¡°What a delectable selection. Yes, yes, this will do, Mister Jonathan. Feel free to keep your ship here as long as you like.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± It wasn¡¯t his ship, but Jonathan didn¡¯t bother to correct Crispin, instead waving up at the bridge lights on the Endeavor. He turned to his companions, finding most of them exhibiting ¨C or suppressing ¨C various degrees of disgust at the lubricious noises Crispin was making over the collection of dead insects, and beckoned for them to follow. ¡°Keep your weapons close and ready. Ones such as we will not fit in here.¡±

    ¡°Are they all¡­¡± Eleanor started in an undertone, and jerked her head at Crispin¡¯s receding back.

    ¡°No,¡± Jonathan said shortly. ¡°Many are far stranger.¡±

    The inside of Crispin¡¯s inn was lit with a murky light that seemed to flow like currents between a series of spheres embedded in the ceiling and walls, revealing a clientele that looked more bestial than human. Long scaled things halfway between snake and centipede, puffing on hookahs of varicolored smoke; some looming shadow that seemed to be composed more of eyes than anything else; tiny winged creatures with iridescent feathers tittering and laughing as they lounged in the flowing light, bobbing upon it as if it were water.

    Jonathan ignored it all, for he had no desire to become entangled with the strange types that populated Ukaresh. They were all of them predators, and any encounters would be fraught and tense. The tapping of his cane on the floor took on a harsh and ominous cast, the inevitability of a ticking clock and a warning to any that might be eyeing their group that humans were far from helpless. He led the way past outsized and contorted furniture and down a ramp that served in place of stairs, where the plaster wall of the building was decorated by an indecipherable mural wrought in clashing colors in disturbing form.

    ¡°I can feel the eyes on us,¡± Eleanor muttered, eyes narrowed and back straight as she refused to show any weakness.

    ¡°It is the nature of things here. You can only relax when you are guaranteed safety by someone sufficiently powerful. Though, that is true everywhere, and only naked here.¡± Jonathan stopped at the bottom of the stairs, taking a moment to decipher the arcane layout, a dusky jumble of furniture and people ¨C and some things that might be either ¨C before leading his party to the door.

    Outside of Crispin¡¯s inn the lighting was scarcely better, cast as it was from a haphazard assemblage of devices and flames. Illumination in all shades of the spectrum revealed a crowded street of forms both monstrous and miniscule going about their own strange business. Jonathan attempted to decipher the street signs, and Antomine stepped up beside him, squinting out from beneath his broad-brimmed hat.

    ¡°What, precisely, are we looking for? I mislike taking any help or succor from a place like this.¡±

    ¡°You may not like it, but some things are only available here.¡± He kept it vague deliberately, as either Antomine or Eleanor may have balked if he revealed things too early. ¡°There are certain materials and writings that could not possibly be smuggled into Beacon.¡±

    ¡°Indeed, I would not pass much of what we¡¯ve seen thus far,¡± Antomine said grimly. ¡°This place is a congregation of all that we protect humanity from. I would be remiss if I did not question¡ª¡±

    Antomine¡¯s voice continued, but was stripped of meaning, leaving only empty noise. The symbology on walls and posts blurred and faded. Language itself fled from everyone nearby as words themselves failed.

    A tremor went through the street, buildings trembling as from the footsteps of some great titan, each one louder and closer. Jonathan came to an abrupt halt, taking a deep breath as the landscape shook. Eleanor tried to ask something but her lips moved without meaning, and there was nothing but noise that drowned under the force of the approaching presence. Other inhabitants fled, darting down other streets and into buildings, but Jonathan did not, for he was familiar with the phenomenon and knew it was there for them.

    The ground tore itself apart, a great long crack reaching from the shrouded distance and growing toward them with each heavy footstep. The walls of the buildings nearby shuddered, windows shattering and fractures appearing in stone, wood, and steel alike. The chasm came to a halt just in front of them, and for a fraction of a moment there was silence. Then, She stood in front of them.

    Eyes blazed golden; commanding, mesmerizing, amused. Dark hair flowed and billowed, a cloak of gem-studded sky. Skin gleamed marble, flawless and imperishable, with forms and features that would consume a man¡¯s dreams until his dying day. Jewels adorned that perfect figure, each one of a size and clarity as to be a royal treasure, serving to accent rather than cover the hard muscle and soft curves; nakedness as an armor for a figure that seemed far greater than it was. As if a giant stood before them in the body of a woman. Lips the color of fresh blood parted to reveal pristine white teeth, each one slightly pointed.

    ¡°My Jonathan,¡± she said, voice a throaty purr, laden with promises both carnal and lethal. She spoke a tongue not of man or beast, but of the primordial fires as they birthed creation. ¡°You bring something to my city that should not be. Even for Ukaresh, some things are too old and extraordinary to be allowed.¡± Her eyes shifted, looking at Antomine with the faintest curl of a lip in a sneer. ¡°Others are simply unwelcome.¡±

    ¡°My lady,¡± Jonathan said carefully. For all that men could ¨C and had ¨C fought to the death simply to be in her presence, this was not a reunion he had been eagerly awaiting. ¡°We are merely passing through to further east. I don¡¯t bring any business that should upset your city.¡±

    ¡°Ah, but you have already upset it,¡± she said, ground trembling as she stepped forward and showing she was a head taller than Jonathan, looking down as she extended a hand with razor-sharp nails toward Jonathan¡¯s cheek, then jerked her hand away just before she touched. ¡°Such a terrible light,¡± she said, almost dreamily, then turned her regard to Eleanor. The woman was a head taller than Eleanor, too ¡ª she was always a head taller than anyone, no matter who they were. ¡°Perhaps I can forgive you for bringing such an interesting morsel with you.¡±

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Eleanor swallowed visibly under the full and terrible attention of the woman, whose every motion made the city shudder around them. For just an instant there was a sense of something great and dark and abyssal reflected beneath Eleanor, and then quailing away from the earth-shaking titan above. The woman used one finger to tilt Eleanor¡¯s head up, inspecting her like a butcher looking at a cut of meat.

    ¡°Introduce us,¡± she said, not as a request.

    ¡°Eleanor McAvey; Inquisitor Antomine,¡± Jonathan said shortly, leaving aside the Lux Guard and the maids, whom he knew were beneath the woman¡¯s notice. ¡°Eleanor, Antomine, this is the unquestioned ruler of Ukaresh, She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed, the immortal Ukari.¡±

    ¡°Immortal?¡± Antomine asked skeptically, finding his voice at last.

    ¡°Yes, little candle-man,¡± Ukari purred, letting Eleanor go and walking three steps away them. On the first step, the walls of the buildings to either side slid apart, rearranging themselves about the group. On the second step, the chasm in the street ripped itself from the ground and set itself in the ceiling as the main beam of a great hall. On the third, a throne of gold and ivory twisted itself into being, and suddenly they were standing in a bright and opulent petitioner¡¯s hall, with monstrous subjects standing or squatting or hovering as they waited for an audience with She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed.

    A negligent wave was enough to scatter the assorted subjects, those who knew the moods of She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed unwilling to risk any displeasure. Ukari reclined on her throne, illuminated by her own light and nothing else, regarding the group of humans. The Lux-Guard stood unmoving at Antomine¡¯s back, while Sara and Marie had fallen deep into their maid personas, standing demure and silent behind Eleanor in hopes of escaping the attention of such a monster.

    ¡°I can hardly see what drives you,¡± Ukari said one forefinger tapping the arm of her throne. ¡°Dare you speak it?¡±

    ¡°There is no mystery,¡± Jonathan said, having no reason to conceal it even if he had dared to. ¡°I have found sunlight.¡± In Beacon none had found it believable, let along compelling, but She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed stared at him for a long time before inclining her head to show a slight bit of respect.

    ¡°If that is what drives you,¡± she said, her voice carrying a dozen warnings without quite speaking any of them. ¡°But why the little candle-man? If his candle-master sent him to find my secrets then they have both very sorely miscalculated.¡± For a moment it was if the throne room were haunted by some voracious lamia, coiled about them with teeth bared wide to expose its devouring hunger.

    ¡°The Illuminated King has no interest in adopting that which dwells in the dark,¡± Antomine said, equally brave and foolhardy. He peered out at She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed from beneath the broad brim of his inquisitor¡¯s hat, eyes burning white. ¡°There is obviously power in what you have, but none of it is a power we would want.¡±

    ¡°Of course not.¡± Ukari laughed darkly, and the bright lights in their wall sconces guttered and dimmed. ¡°He prefers to cower behind walls, clinging to illusions and desperate to deny the reality of the dark all around him.¡±

    ¡°There is no illusion in the truth of humanity,¡± Antomine said, his hand rising to touch the inquisitor¡¯s symbol hanging around his neck. ¡°Humans don¡¯t bend to the dark; we bend it to suit us. Walls put borders on the darkness, and allow us to walk free and without worry.¡±

    ¡°An imagined safety, one that does humanity no favors,¡± Ukari replied, confident, amused, utterly unmoved by Antomine¡¯s temerity. She seemed to welcome the inquisitor¡¯s disagreement; a lucky thing, for had he incited her displeasure instead, he would have not continued existing. ¡°Without the fight, humans are weak and decadent, beliefs and morals based on some fantasy of a world as it should be.¡±

    ¡°Oh, there is a fight, but it is not the human way to seek out and master the darkness on its own terms, to become its king ¡ª or Queen,¡± he added, inclining his head briefly to Ukari. ¡°We master ourselves to conquer the dark, forcing it to our terms. Our fight is one of spirit over sword, to become a light against the dark. Becoming the monster in the darkness is an abandonment of all that makes us what we are.¡±

    ¡°A pretty little story,¡± Ukari said with a rich, throaty chuckle. ¡°Yet you still have come out here for ¡ª what, sunlight? Do you think it is any less part of what you call the darkness, simply because of its name? No doubt your candle-master wishes to find a greater light to make his own, trying to find what I already have ¡ª the secrets of eternity.¡±

    ¡°I am only here to find out what the truth of it is, regardless of what that may be.¡± Antomine spoke stiffly, though Jonathan very much doubted he would dare to lie. For himself, Jonathan tended more toward Ukari¡¯s view on things, finding himself dismissive of those who lived within Beacon¡¯s walls ¡ª but he would also admit he was hardly an exemplar of humankind.

    ¡°Perhaps you even believe that, but in the end even your candle-master needs to embrace what you find out here to survive.¡± Ukari waved a hand dismissively, then sharpened her eyes and her tone. ¡°But as for you, I do not welcome deluded deceivers who hold no regard for the gifts of me and mine. Well, Jonathan? What should I do with this little candle-man?¡±

    Jonathan found it quite tempting to ask Ukari simply to remove him. The crew could hardly hold Jonathan responsible for the actions of a capricious queen, and Eleanor was not likely to worry overmuch about Antomine¡¯s fate. Yet the inquisitor had been mostly a help, and might still have some role to play with his peculiar talents. If it were necessary, Jonathan was entirely confident of his ability to remove Antomine himself.

    ¡°I believe he will still be useful in the future,¡± Jonathan told her, tapping his forefinger on the handle of his cane and ignoring Antomine¡¯s look. ¡°If it please you, I would like him returned to the ship. I¡¯m certain he has no further interest in Ukaresh.¡± Antomine snorted, but quietly, and added no actual words. Ukari made a negligent gesture and Antomine vanished, along with his Lux Guard.

    ¡°Now, your other friend is far more interesting,¡± said She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed, leaning forward ever so slightly to look at Eleanor, whose eyes went wide. Jonathan had some idea of what she was feeling, the sensation of a bare-fanged predator panting on one¡¯s neck. He even had some sympathy, but not much ¡ª this was simply the nature of the east. ¡°I do adore a woman who is not afraid to let shadowed secrets into her heart.¡±

    ¡°Thank you? Your Highness?¡± Eleanor sounded uncertain, as well she should be. Ukari¡¯s attention was a precarious thing.

    ¡°So why have you decided to accompany this dangerous man so far from your home?¡±

    ¡°Freedom,¡± Eleanor replied promptly, stiffening her spine. ¡°When I go back I want to be able to spit in their faces, throw away my debts, and go my own way on my own terms.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I like you,¡± Ukari said, smile widening to show teeth. Jonathan took a moment to think; he had intended to guide Eleanor in a certain way regardless, but with She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed in a pleasant mood, he could perhaps shortcut several steps.

    ¡°My lady, I had intended to show Eleanor to the Black Garden,¡± Jonathan said, breaking into Ukari¡¯s scrutiny. She turned the smile his way, along with the full force of all the bloody glee behind it.

    ¡°So formal for a lover,¡± she scolded him. ¡°You used to call me other things.¡±

    ¡°Ukari,¡± he said, conceding at least that much, though he would not have dared to use her name if she hadn¡¯t invited it. ¡°I would hesitate to ask a favor, but if there is any way I could negotiate access¡ª¡±

    ¡°I am curious myself how she would take it,¡± Ukari said, while Eleanor seemed to be struggling with her previous statement, glancing between Jonathan and Ukari in disbelief.

    ¡°If that can be done quickly, we can be out of your city in short order,¡± Jonathan said, offering her a bow. ¡°And stir up as little trouble as possible.¡±

    ¡°I welcome the trouble.¡± Ukari laughed, and extended a hand toward Eleanor, who found herself far closer to the throne of bone and gold than she had been a moment before. ¡°Well, morsel? Do you dare to see what the Garden has to show you?¡±

    ¡°I¡ª¡± Eleanor licked her lips, entranced by the deadly magnetism of She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed. ¡°What is the Black Garden?¡±

    ¡°A place that only women can go,¡± Ukari said, which was not something Jonathan would have chosen as a selling point, but he would never have the insight into people that the ruler of Ukaresh did. Something about that, whether it was words or intonation or something unspoken that passed between the two of them seemed to sell Eleanor on the idea, and she reached out to take Ukari¡¯s hand.

    The two of them vanished in an odd blurring of vision, as if seen through an increasingly distorted lens. The throne room seemed to relax, sagging back into place after the strain of bearing the presence of She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed. Only Jonathan and Eleanor¡¯s maids were left in the great opulent room, amongst the treasures and tapestries that had been unnoticeable in Ukari¡¯s presence.

    ¡°Sir?¡± Marie spoke, and Jonathan turned to regard the pair. ¡°Where exactly are we?¡±

    ¡°The center of the city,¡± he said, and pointed his cane to the far door, a massive arch framed with shimmering gems the size of carriages dangling on heavy iron chains. ¡°I will accompany you back to the ship,¡± he told them, as Eleanor would be cross with him if something happened to them. Considering his plans for her, she would already be in a rather poor mood, and he didn¡¯t want to compound that. ¡°And we should make haste, before the usual audience returns.¡±

    Neither Sarah nor Marie needed any further urging to hurry toward the exit, both of them readying their pistols and Jonathan walking briskly by their side. His cane tapped a warning note against the fire-veined dark marble of the floor, announcing to any who might bar their way the temerity of such an idea. His sharp eyes picked out some types lurking in the shadows just outside the doors, the sort of parasitic creatures that always gravitated toward the halls of power.

    A tall, oily being with multiple segments oozed over toward them, what passed for a face stretched into a parody of a friendly smile. Both Sarah and Marie leveled their weapons, and Jonathan gave the thing a glare. Really, it should have known better than to approach anyone who had survived a private audience with Ukari, but such leeches could only survive by ingratiating themselves with real power.

    ¡°Feel free to shoot anyone who bothers you,¡± Jonathan said aloud, and the smile faltered as the thing took in the pair of softly glowing zint pistols pointed its way. Then it snarled and slunk off, and Jonathan continued through the gleaming, treasure-filled entrance hall until they emerged into the sudden noise and motion of central Ukaresh.

    Beings on two legs and four, or even six or eight, scurried about their enigmatic business. Ramps and walks crossed between buildings above and open tunnels below, connecting architectures both striking and profane, while lights of a dozen different types cast shadows in a variety of shades across the stone of the street. The air of the city was heavy with foreign and unnamable perfumes and exhalations of alien life. It was clean, however; Ukari would not stand for anything else.

    It took Jonathan a moment to gain his bearings, forcibly transported as they were and with Ukaresh being in the habit of changing its landmarks. The marble and glass of the palace was always at the center, but it required a certain twisted logic to reason out the direction and route back toward where the Endeavor waited. There were personal conveyances here and there; a spider-legged cart or a glass bubble on wheel, but none that Jonathan would trust with either himself or the maids.

    Instead he moved briskly along the street, a cautious eye out for the inevitable trouble. Ukaresh was not completely lawless, and yet it could not be characterized as orderly. Outbreaks of violence were not uncommon, but anything that threatened to spiral into more than a personal spat was quashed with murderous enthusiasm. Most of those who inhabited Ukaresh were dangerous enough that few actually tried, despite the uncooperative nature of many of the strange creatures that crawled or walked or flew its streets.

    A trio of ordinary humans, however, were clearly out of place. The smarter individuals would realize what that implied, but there were always those just dim enough to see Jonathan and his companions as easy targets. Even as a younger and wilder man visiting Ukaresh, he¡¯d been beset more than once, which had certainly sharpened his senses and skill with a blade. Older, wiser, and more driven, he didn¡¯t fear any of the inhabitants that might cross their path.

    That assurance meant that none dared to accost them for a good distance. Sarah and Marie were more obviously out of place, noticeably strained if not actually frightened, weapons ready and eyes darting over to each new passerby or mechanical conveyance. It was a form of weakness that invited trouble, and soon enough a small group of airborne creatures plunged out of the sky with a laugh and a scream, aiming themselves at the pair of maids. Four claw-tipped limbs undulated and clutched with frantic hunger, each of the creatures babbling something in a language foreign to the human mouth from a bulbous, leering face.

    To their credit, neither woman panicked, nor did they hesitate in taking aim with their pistols and shooting at the things. Bright zint bolts flashed upward, most missing and tearing sizzling holes in or through walls and walks. The ones that did hit elicited ear-shattering squeals of pain, turning plunging dives into uncontrolled falls. Jonathan¡¯s sword whipped through the air and spitted two more, the remaining few from the group shrieking as they scattered and fled.

    ¡°Unless you want to take any trophies, we might as well continue,¡± Jonathan said. The very brief fracas had attracted some attention, from some fuzzy spider-thing draped in silks dangling above to a rodent-faced centipede peering out of a nearby tunnel entrance, and it was best to move on and leave the city to its business. He wiped the still-pristine blade of his sword-cane with his handkerchief and sheathed it once again, beckoning the maids to follow.

    The return path to the Endeavor was a brief tour through a kaleidoscopic geography, through geometries unreasonable to human sensibilities and taking circumlocutions that crossed through spaces that should have been forbidden by ordinary laws of shape and volume. The very first time he had been to Ukaresh, in a now distant youth, he had been bedazzled and bewildered by the riotous variety, so unlike the orderly streets of Beacon. Now he found its labyrinthine turnings and garish colors to be merely tedious, and better understood why Ukari showed so little interest in most of it.

    When they reached Crispin¡¯s building, the street was only slightly damaged and the walls were mostly intact; such was not always the case when She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed moved upon the world. This time, the surroundings were in good enough repair that there was no need to consider moving the Endeavor. A fortunate occurrence, as there were few places in Ukaresh that would be even marginally safe for a human airship. Jonathan doubted that was coincidence; Ukari did nothing by accident.

    Jonathan accompanied the pair back to the descent line, and saw them up before returning to the chaotic streets of Ukaresh. He had no wish to answer the questions Antomine would surely have, and no need to wait for Eleanor with bated breath. She would succeed ¨C or not ¨C on her own merits, and she was the only one Jonathan trusted could navigate Ukaresh on her own.

    He had purchases to make on behalf of the ship, to replenish what supplies he could ¡ª and preparations that did not need other witnesses. The Arch of Khokorron demanded a price he could no longer pay himself, and so he needed a substitute. The only option he knew of required a sacrifice.

 Chapter Twenty-One

    Jonathan strode confidently through a deep warren underneath the streets of Ukaresh. Freed of his human companions, Jonathan felt no need to maintain his restraint, and the rapping of his cane on the tunnel stone tolled like approaching doom. The crowd parted in front of him of its own accord, averting their gazes from the sunlight burning behind his eyes.

    The tunnels were stone and metal, lit by tubes that cut the already cramped space in half and forced the subterranean inhabitants to squeeze by to one side or the other. A spiderlike being with a head bearing three faces looking in three different directions tried to crowd in behind Jonathan, then thought better of it and diverted down a side-passage. A troupe of wild-furred creatures with grotesquely distorted limbs, eyeless and yet in every other respect bearing perfect and flawless skin and features, ambled in the opposite direction and flattened themselves away from his presence.

    There was no telling how many of the strange beings were from their own distinct race and how many had been changed, corrupted, or controlled by secrets and mysteries found out in the dark ¡ª if there was a difference between the two to begin with. Just as in the city above, the tunnels below were punctuated with rare but sudden bursts of violence, whether one being preying upon another or a disagreement escalating to its inevitable end.

    He bypassed all of that, walking down toward the Pits of the Condemned ¡ª one of the few places that traded in living beings. Those consigned to the Pits were generally those who had attracted the ire of the truly powerful, either by demonstrating too destructive an appetite or too unruly a temper, and were not to be allowed in even a place so free-spirited as Ukaresh.

    Even for him, there was something disconcerting about the vast, hushed space deep beneath Ukaresh. Arched galleries ran in every direction, lit by flickering torches whose flames never consumed their chalk-white wood. Broad and voracious holes gaped in the uneven brickwork of the floor, hungering maws that sucked down light and sound, hiding whatever might be in their depths. Every stone above and below radiated weariness and age, defaced engravings of the same long face repeated at every intersection, watching sadly from gouged-out eyes.

    Through it all wound a faint strain of strange music, both soothing and entrancing. It was quiet but pervasive, an orchestra in miniature on a stately amble through a complex assemblage of notes. While the music itself was pleasant, the source was anything but.

    ¡°Welcome!¡± The sing-song voice of the Keeper of the Pits rang out as the creature itself ambled into view, a blasphemous amalgamation of myriad limbs from insectile to avian emerging from an enormous steel barrel. It had added an additional head and neck since Jonathan had seen it last, with bulging eyes and a stitched-closed mouth. The Keeper¡¯s voice came through four other heads, voices harmonizing despite none of them sharing any similarities. Some eldritch engine growled and puffed within the metal torso in a steady beat behind the music, venting steam and sound through pipes emerging from the rotund body.

    ¡°Greetings,¡± Jonathan said, using the same tongue. Trade pidgin, a cobbled together awkward bastard of a language, ugly yet serviceable ¡ª much like the Keeper itself. ¡°I am looking for something large. Something robust. A life that could drown mine.¡±

    The esoteric functions of the Arch of Khokorron were very much a mystery, but he knew enough to understand it would require more than a perfunctory offering to let him cross it a second time. Something ¨C someone ¨C of importance, of power and history. Nor did he have any desire to use any of the passengers or crew ¡ª that was far too dark a deed to survive the cleansing light of what awaited in Bright Defile. He had doubts any of them would suffice to begin with; even someone of Antomine¡¯s stature couldn¡¯t measure up to Jonathan¡¯s presence.

    ¡°Certainly, good customer!¡± The Keeper sang cheerfully, punctuated with a sharp whistle from the steam venting through its back. ¡°We have many new entries to the Pits! Come this way!¡± The engine inside the Keeper¡¯s body grumbled, and it moved off through one of the many identical arches. Jonathan followed at a safe distance; it was only his own discretion that would keep him from joining the other condemned in one of the endless holes that stretched in every direction.

    There were no cries, moans, or pleading from any of the pits, but the enforced quiet was only more eerie. The only noise was the Keeper humming musically in four different pitches at once, a disconcertingly harmonious effect. Something so offensive to the eye should not be so pleasant to the ear. Even the noise of Jonathan¡¯s cane was muffled, refusing to echo from the worn bricks.

    He memorized the turnings, as every point within the Pits was identical save for the staircase up. The Keeper had its own sort of integrity, but it was not to be trusted for anything but keeping and delivering merchandise. Those who entered its domain did so at their own peril, but Jonathan was confident in his own ability.

    The Keeper stopped at one pit in particular, no different from any of the others, and hummed a high note. The torches flared, the light suddenly reaching the bottom of the pit and revealing a creature with stripes of all colors, bearing a particularly feline cast yet with a cruel tilt to its eyes and jaw. It seemed almost frozen at the bottom of its pit, as if suffering from some particularly soporific effect ¡ª though Jonathan knew it was music that soothed the savage beast.

    ¡°This one is old! And heavy! And large! And has killed so, so many things!¡± The Keeper seemed pleased with its selection, and Jonathan had to admit it was a good one. Despite the nature of the Pits, Jonathan could feel the weight of the being¡¯s presence, something that bespoke an understanding of profound secrets.

    It would do for Jonathan¡¯s purposes. He would let the Keeper think what it wished about his reasons for purchasing that particular creature, though Jonathan would have to leave it in the Pits until it was time. There was no way he could contain such a thing, whether in the Endeavor or some place in Ukaresh.

    ¡°I will take it. You will hold it here until I am ready to retrieve it?¡± Jonathan hefted the heavy case he¡¯d brought with him. While gold and silver were valued enough currency in Ukaresh, some things were valued far more, by the right people.

    ¡°Yes! Yes! What will you pay?¡± The Keeper rounded on him with deceptive speed, the heads peering at the case. Jonathan hung his cane on the crook of his arm as he opened it up, withdrawing several musical instruments packed within: a violin of rich red wood, an ivory flute, and a brass trumpet. All of them were well-used, and while not in the best shape that was hardly the point. It was the hours of music they had played.

    ¡°Will these do?¡± Jonathan asked, setting out the instruments on the ground and stepping back. Three of the Keeper¡¯s limbs picked them up, bringing them for its various heads to inspect. Then reached up to open a small hatch on the top of its body and dropped the instruments in, slitting its eyes in pleasure.

    ¡°Very good! Very much good!¡± It seemed happy, and yet belying its words it took the opportunity to lunge suddenly at Jonathan, the warbling sounds of strings and woodwinds coming from somewhere deep inside it. Jonathan took a quick step back and grabbed his cane, belting the Keeper across the nearest face and not bothering to control his strength. The Keeper skidded back from the force of the blow, myriad limbs gripping the brickwork, and then it laughed like a symphony. ¡°I will wait! You will return!¡±

    ¡°I will,¡± Jonathan confirmed grimly, staring down the abomination and letting the sunlight surge through his soul. Five pairs of eyes stared him, then one by one looked away, blinking as smoke rose from their eyelids, scorched by the sight. Satisfied that he¡¯d made his point, he turned away and traced the path back to the stairs.

    He ascended to the city proper, determined to find some rather more mundane purchases while he was out and about. Even if much of Ukaresh was suffused with items and services for those with exotic tastes and temperaments, ordinary interests and appetites still existed. Jonathan trusted none of the food or drink, as there were additives common to the east which would not sit well with humans, but other things were relatively safe.

    At one stand he purchased several dozen potted flowers ¨C with gold, as he didn¡¯t know the particular vendor ¨C and had them sent to Crispin¡¯s building. At another stand, he acquired several sacks of spices he recognized to replace the flagging stocks of flavorings aboard the Endeavor. Venturing into a region of close and smoky ceilings, he negotiated for billets of steel and brass to be sent back, though there was no carisium so far east.

    The only other business he had in the city waited on Eleanor, and there was little he could do to speed that along. While he was not privy to the secrets of the Black Garden, he was passingly familiar with what knowledge there was of the place, buried somewhere below Ukaresh. Of the secretive Sisters of the Immaculate Thorns that safeguarded it, and the rumors of the fruit they could provide.

    He had witnessed one particular feat himself, one that he needed to pay for his passage through the Arch of Khokorron. There had been other options, but none so sure as the fruit of life that the Sisters could produce. As a man, he could not even speak to them, but Eleanor would be welcomed.

    Returning to the Endeavor, he found Crispin directing the cleaning away of several corpses from the landing where the airship was tethered. The bug-man clicked his mandibles in Jonathan¡¯s direction, clearly happy about the largesse, and Jonathan inclined his head. Despite the disturbing appearance and odd habits, Crispin was well capable of safeguarding the Endeavor from most forces in Ukaresh.

    There were no airmen posted at the base of the descent tether, but when he tugged on it he could see a pair of heads peer out of the hatch above ¡ª the brawny and wiry pair that he had seen so often. Then the descent line started moving, and he held onto the rings as it brought him up to the ship. He had intended to return to his cabin and wait for Eleanor to reappear, as it would be on her terms, or Ukari¡¯s. Yet Antomine was waiting for him the moment his boots touched the deck.

    ¡°Mister Heights,¡± he said severely, white-pupiled eyes glowing. ¡°You will account for what Ukari has done to Eleanor immediately.¡±

    Jonathan frowned, planting his cane on the floor and regarding Antomine. The Lux Guard stood silently behind him, but of the two he found Antomine more dangerous. All the more dangerous for confronting Jonathan in front of witnesses, which forced him to consider the Endeavor¡¯s crew. He didn¡¯t want to start having trouble so far into the journey.

    ¡°I mere suggested an opportunity that, given the knowledge, she would have sought out of her own accord,¡± Jonathan replied, choosing his words with care. Not only would Antomine detect any lies, but he would have to account for his lies under sunlight. Untruth would burn, and if he was not careful, so would he. ¡°It was mere fortune that She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed found her interesting and so hastened the process.¡±

    ¡°We do not tempt people into corruption, nor hand them off to foreign rulers,¡± Antomine said, biting off each word with obvious ire. ¡°I have been understanding of your actions on this expedition, Mister Heights, because the Illuminated King is very interested in sunlight and there are certain realities to traveling in such savage lands. But that is not the same as allowing you to do whatever you like.¡±

    ¡°I hardly forced Eleanor to do anything,¡± Jonathan said, utterly unmoved by Antomine¡¯s veiled threats. ¡°She made the decision all on her own.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be disingenuous.¡± Antomine scowled, fingers toying with his inquisitor¡¯s medallion. ¡°If you know what someone will do if you tell them a certain thing, you¡¯re as responsible for their actions as they are, if not more so. The Inquisition deals with the temptations of forbidden knowledge all the time, and those who indulge in them are often more victim than heretic.¡±

    ¡°If you blame me for Eleanor¡¯s behavior, then what are you proposing? That you become her guardian, a grown woman with knowledge of secrets the inquisition does not condone?¡± Jonathan shook his head slowly, fingers tapping on the handle of his cane. ¡°I do not think you would find that a worthwhile endeavor.¡±

    ¡°She does not deserve any less consideration due to her secrets, or her choice of employers,¡± Antomine said, pointing a finger at Jonathan. ¡°If choice it was! She has told me that you were the one who introduced her to the Reflected Council to begin with.¡±

    ¡°I do not imagine you actually care much about some years-ago decisions,¡± Jonathan said, refusing to rise to the bait, though somewhat surprised Eleanor had revealed so much about her past. ¡°If you have some wild idea about my manipulations of those aboard, I can merely state that I believe everyone on the Endeavor has some part to play in our journey to find sunlight. Myself, you, her, Captain Montgomery, the crew ¡ª everyone. I do not believe it unreasonable that I would bring people I find skilled and competent.¡±

    ¡°Do not confuse the issue,¡± Antomine said, clasping his hands behind his back. ¡°What have you led Eleanor into, and why? You are many things, Mister Heights, but you do not strike me as needlessly cruel or depraved. I have even seen flashes of compassion, from time to time, so surely you have some purpose for it.¡±

    ¡°I cannot precisely tell you,¡± Jonathan said, and held up a hand to prevent a protest. ¡°If I were to expound in detail, then you would be subject to a price that you could not pay. I dare not even hint too much, for even if you were to figure it out from logic and reason, the penalty might still be exacted upon you. What I offered Eleanor was power of her own ¡ª but also a chance to help me with the price I shall not speak.¡±

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    Antomine peered at him suspiciously, clearly not convinced. Yet, Jonathan was speaking the truth and Antomine had already shown the ability to detect any kind of falsehood. More, as an inquisitor he knew well the nature of secret knowledge, and how too many details could result in some searing revelation or creeping horror. Or simply render someone vulnerable to a greater power.

    ¡°I do not believe that your goals are worth such a sacrifice,¡± Antomine said at length. ¡°Anything that demands that kind of price is not to be trusted. It is already done and cannot be undone, but the Illuminated King will make the judgement about whether it is worthwhile.¡± The young man scowled at that, but his orders had clearly prioritized finding sunlight over the usual considerations of the Inquisition. ¡°However, I cannot trust even the most innocuous of actions from you any longer. These purchases ¡ª the metals and spices I understand, but the flowers?¡±

    ¡°Perfectly mundane, I assure you,¡± Jonathan replied, somewhat amused that Antomine had latched onto so small a detail. ¡°There are places where a cold fire ¨C rather like unflame ¨C burns without light. Any time we need disembark, we simply take a flower or two on the end of a pole and use it to ensure we don¡¯t run into any of these pockets.¡±

    ¡°That is suspiciously reasonable,¡± Antomine replied, not sounding reassured.

    ¡°It is a trick that I learned some years ago from a native,¡± Jonathan explained. ¡°There are tricks for all the hazards here, but we are already protected against most of those thanks to our time in Angkor Leng.¡±

    ¡°Yes, and I commend that foresight even if I now suspect the path itself,¡± Antomine said, disgusted. ¡°I will not offer toothless warnings about what may happen if you continue to threaten the integrity of the men and women on this ship, but neither will I allow you to act with impunity. I will inform the captain and crew you are to give no orders and go on no excursions without me being notified.¡±

    Jonathan thumped his cane on the deck, a sharp beat like the booming a great drum, cold fury warring with cold calculation. He refused to let Antomine curb his behavior or present the slightest barrier to his destination ¡ª and yet, Antomine¡¯s threat was fairly toothless despite his words. The greatest threat the inquisitor posed was influencing Montgomery or his crew to simply turn around and head back to Beacon, and it was far too late for that.

    There were still dangers ahead, but Ukaresh and the price required to pass the Arch of Khokorron had been some of the things Antomine would most object to. He still might, but he was hardly capable of stopping either Jonathan or Eleanor from leaving. So there was, perhaps, no real reason to defy Antomine just yet. Not until he tried to cross the line they had both been maintaining.

    ¡°When Eleanor returns, we will be going back into the city. That will be the last excursion, as you put it, here in Ukaresh, and then we should be on our way. I do not foresee any troubles, for our business is entirely straightforward ¡ª but of course I can make no guarantees.¡± He refused to directly agree to Antomine¡¯s terms ¨C not that they had been put in the form of a question ¨C but would stretch a point to meet him partway.

    ¡°And that business ¡ª that price you mentioned?¡± Antomine asked. Jonathan let his lip curl in a sneer.

    ¡°Indeed; I have already finished my mundane tasks. The days are long past when I would wander such a city for the novelty of it.¡± Jonathan waved it aside. ¡°Is there anything else, Mister Antomine? If not, I believe you have a captain to see.¡± It was perhaps unwise to rile the inquisitor, and let him know how little Jonathan thought of his authority, but so far from Beacon there didn¡¯t seem any point in pretending. Perhaps if Jonathan intended to return, there would be cause enough to be conciliatory, but he¡¯d already burned all his paths back.

    Antomine gave him a long, level look, and then turned on his heel to head for the stairs. The airmen scurried afterward, clearly relieved the confrontation was over. Jonathan took a moment to double-check his immaculate suit, letting the others get ahead, before he ascended to his own cabin to wait. There was no telling how long Eleanor would be ¡ª though he doubted it would be more than a day or so. Unless something went terribly wrong, and Jonathan would be forced to consider less palatable alternatives.

    He settled himself in his cabin, stretching out on his bunk. As much as he was driven to move forward, there was little to be done at the moment, so it was better to reserve his energy. He would need it to deal with the final task in Ukaresh.

    What woke him was a feeling of hysterical avarice, a bloody living hunger descending upon him from above. His hand shot out to grab Eleanor¡¯s wrist as he rolled out of his cot onto his feet. She laughed at him, hair disheveled and eyes wide, burning darkly as she tried to wrest the hand with the dagger from his grasp.

    ¡°Eleanor!¡± His voice was a whipcrack as he tore the weapon from her grip, feeling something darker and wilder trying to grasp at him from her touch. She didn¡¯t respond to her name, struggling to claw at him with savage ferocity, cackling and lost in some bloodthirsty fugue.

    Jonathan let the sunlight well from his soul, pushing back the shadowed hunger trying to clutch him, the red tooth and claw of whatever accompanied Eleanor. Her manic laughter faded somewhat, but then she lunged at him with a sudden look of sultry lust. He found that no more palatable than her murderous reverie, and held her at arms length for a moment before slapping her sharply.

    The impact jarred her, and her eyes cleared. Jonathan had seen the like before; knowledge was jealous and secrets were dangerous, and being exposed to some profound facet of the world could break people. Those who had already glimpsed things beyond the ordinary were often more robust, but if the understandings were too disparate it could be even worse. He had thought Eleanor would have had no issues, from what he knew of her, of She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed, and of the flavor of the secrets involved. Clearly he had misjudged.

    ¡°Jonathan,¡± she said, tittering, and then baring her teeth. ¡°Did you know? What it¡¯s like? What they do?¡±

    ¡°I am not privy to the secrets of the Black Garden,¡± Jonathan said, studying her closely. She was wilted, bedraggled, smelling of blood and sap and other things. Stains spotted her clothing, some of blood, others of less determinate origin. At the same time she brimmed with a fierce vitality, an inexhaustible energy that didn¡¯t sit on her correctly, like an ill-fitting coat.

    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s just¡ª¡± She laughed, and then sobbed, and then hiccupped to a stop and then glared at him. ¡°Let¡¯s go kill something,¡± she said, more a demand than a request. ¡°Let¡¯s go harvest something.¡±

    ¡°I had, in fact, intended to do just that,¡± Jonathan said cautiously, releasing her at last. He was more than a little disturbed by her manic behavior, by the sudden appetites behind it. She had always had a cruel streak, paradoxically matched with her empathy, but that had transmuted into something else. Something he had certainly not intended.

    ¡°Yes!¡± Eleanor¡¯s fingers curled, the glint in her eyes taking on a sinister cast. For a moment he could see the lamia of She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed lurking in Eleanor¡¯s bared teeth, some faint shadow of that great devouring mother. She threw open the door of his cabin with a bang as he tugged at his suit by reflex and secured his cane from where he¡¯d placed it by the door, then hastened after her. If nothing else, he didn¡¯t want her to attack anyone else on the way out.

    Fortunately for all, she hadn¡¯t carved a bloody swath on her way in, but he was certain he would have noticed the sort of malevolent hunger let loose aboard the ship. Eleanor might not have even been fully coherent if she¡¯d been allowed to indulge that way. There was no question about how she had returned to the Endeavor without incident, however; he was familiar enough with Ukari¡¯s humor to be certain on that score.

    Jonathan kept himself right at her shoulder as she pelted down to the middle deck, a crippling bloodthirst rolling out ahead of Eleanor like a great crimson tide. Sarah popped her head out of her cabin, and the sight of him and of Eleanor¡¯s dark glee was enough to send her back inside without saying a word. Antomine was not in evidence, which Jonathan assumed was calculation rather than fortuity. Antomine or his Lux Guard might have been able to hold Eleanor off physically, but it was better to not invite an attack to begin with.

    She breezed out of the ship, jumping down rather than taking the tether, which was something she would hardly have done before. If anything she would have leant on her other esoteric knowledge, rather than brute force. He followed at a more sedate pace, despite her obvious impatience, not wanting to indulge the compulsions she was following more than necessary.

    The creatures inside Crispin¡¯s respite had no desire to stand in Eleanor¡¯s way, giving her more space than they¡¯d afforded him before, despite her every movement being designed to affront. Even Jonathan felt himself slighted for what reason he knew not, and he tightened his grip on his cane as he focused past that unnatural provocation. Only once they were outside again did he manage to get in front of her, calling her attention with the sharp crack of his cane on the stone.

    ¡°Eleanor! This way,¡± he told her, directing her along one of the streets. ¡°We¡¯ll be headed underneath Ukaresh; I have what you want waiting there.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± she snapped shortly, distracted from appraising the passers-by like cuts of meat. ¡°It better not be far.¡± She licked her lips, and it looked like her teeth had been stained with blood.

    ¡°It won¡¯t be long,¡± Jonathan assured her, though it was, in fact, a not inconsiderable distance. One that would be shortened both by Eleanor¡¯s frenetic energy and the sanguine menace she carried which cleared streets ahead of her.

    He did not regret his choice of introducing Eleanor to the Black Garden, for it was entirely necessary, but he had a certain burden of responsibility. Eleanor¡¯s new personality and drive was utterly unsustainable, and a mockery of her true goals. Jonathan knew he¡¯d have to do something to help her master and suborn the secrets she had discovered ¡ª or at least reconcile with them.

    That would be later. For the moment he needed the naked awareness she exhibited, that of one whose mind was newly exposed to some fundamental aspect of reality and was acting in perfect accord with it. In such a state of mind he knew she would be able to perform the dark miracle that the Black Garden was known for. Once the deed was done, he could help her into a frame of mind that was more controlled and less potent.

    The back of his neck prickled from Eleanor¡¯s panting bloodlust, and he kept himself at ready in case she should see him as a target again. He was no victim, and betrayed no weaknesses, so that was unlikely, but as flush and unbalanced as she was there was no telling what she might do. The occasional crazed tittering echoed from behind him, and Eleanor¡¯s footsteps were inconsistent. She¡¯d stop to look at something, rush forward to match pace with him, then dart away again like an overexcited child. Admittedly, one with a dagger, hungry knowledge, and a willingness to kill. Had there been anyone willing to stand in their way Jonathan doubted they would have survived more than a few seconds.

    After an interminable walk Jonathan arrived at the Pits of the Condemned once more, bringing Eleanor down the long ramp into the still gallery of arches. Eleanor laughed and darted forward, looking fearlessly over the edge of one of the pits. Disconcertingly, her voice didn¡¯t seem to be muffled by the ancient solemnity of the place, nor did she seem to notice the gouged-out eyes of the watching engravings.

    ¡°Oh, yes. I can feel so much here to harvest.¡± She looked like she was about to jump down into the pit, but a sudden crescendo from the Keeper¡¯s music broke her focus, along with a tuneful clatter as the creature approached on its grotesquerie of limbs. Eleanor whipped around to face it, her dagger appearing in her hand.

    ¡°Keeper, I wish to be taken to my purchase,¡± Jonathan said, stepping up next to Eleanor and holding out his cane to keep her from attacking the beast. Not that he would personally object to the Keeper¡¯s destruction, but there was no telling what that would unleash.

    ¡°Of course!¡± The thing said musically, dozens of different types of feet padding against the stone as it directed them through the endless identical arches. Eleanor hopped from foot to foot, fingers flexing unconsciously as she looked at the pits they passed. Jonathan kept as close an eye as he could on her, worried that he would lose her in the pits that stretched out in every direction.

    Soon enough they were at the purchase, and the Keeper hummed its note to illuminate the sacrifice. The massive near-cat was still frozen at the bottom of the pit, and the Keeper hummed a different note. The walls of the pit shrunk, not moving, but distorting as if they had previously been seen through a thick lens; some trick of the light rather than true distance.

    ¡°Can you harvest this one for me, Eleanor?¡± Jonathan asked, taking care to keep his tone polite even though that was the entire reason he had brought her along.

    ¡°I can.¡± Eleanor fairly crooned the worlds, stepping forward with her dagger raised. He could not properly understand what came next, for it touched on dark and obscure secrets forbidden to him, but there was an impression of blood, of dark and crawling vines, of great leaves and roots reaching down into the heart of the world. Of the savage thirst of growing things.

    Then it was done, and there was no more sacrifice, just a spreading pool of blood on the floor and a single fruit in Eleanor¡¯s outstretched hand. It was red and smooth and beat like a heart, enclosed by a translucently-thin lacework scrap of hide and fur. It seemed like some demented paper lantern, but for the terrible vitality it radiated with every thudding contraction.

    Eleanor laughed delightedly, stripping off the skin-husk and lifting the fruit as if to take a bite of it herself. Jonathan¡¯s grip on her wrist stopped her, as he plucked the fruit away with his other hand. She whirled on him with a murderous glare, hand bent into a claw and going for his face. He jerked his head away and hastily stowed the fruit inside his jacket, feeling like his hand was wet with the blood ¡ª though it came away completely clean ¡ª and focused on Eleanor.

    The corruption of her mind by the Garden¡¯s knowledge was worse than he had thought; the simple act of taking the fruit had driven her entirely feral. It was something he could have dealt with in time, save for the Keeper¡¯s presence, musically huffing and so obviously ready to spring. Jonathan whirled, pulling them both out of the lunge of the stitched monstrosity, and at the same time felt vines clawing at the edge of his vision as Eleanor tried to enact the harvest once again ¡ª on him.

    When it came to esoteric knowledge, all of it was true, even ¨C and especially ¨C if it was entirely contradictory, so possession of some was not necessarily proof against others. Yet Jonathan had faith in sunlight, in the purity, sanctity, and the reality of it. He let it burst forth from deep inside him, a sudden scorching blaze to drive back the dark grasping roots of nature¡¯s hunger.

    Just as he intended, the presence of the sunlight denied the primacy of the dark vines and crimson appetite. What he did not intend was how the Black Garden responded, peering out through Eleanor and taking in the light. Neither of them understood each other¡¯s secrets, but that was hardly necessary for the knowledge to join together in a palpable twisting of the Black Garden¡¯s nature. The darkness shifted to something greener, something greater, flourishing in the one true light. It shocked through Eleanor, and echoed down to the source of the secret itself.

    Despite being green, it was no less consuming, for the Garden itself seemed to burst forth into the Pits of the Condemned. Something clawed its way out of Eleanor to bathe in the pure radiance of Jonathan¡¯s memory, and while both Jonathan and Eleanor were protected, the rest of the pits were not. The Keeper made a musical noise of confusion and amusement is it gained two new limbs, woody trunks bursting forth from its barrel, and it waved them cheerfully ¡ª before the barrel itself burst asunder and a blood-slick trunk soared upward toward the ceiling, roots cracking the stone of the floor.

    Eleanor screamed, trying to wrestle herself away from Jonathan¡¯s grasp, blood leaking from her eyes and tongue and nails as around them, every pit trembled. In every direction, by the flickering light of the torches, hundreds of trees grew, one from each pit, making the ceiling tremble and the ground shake. The Garden had come to the Pits.

    Jonathan reluctantly put away the sunlight, the scorching, domineering radiance fading from his mind as Eleanor slumped. The Black Garden, no longer black, continued to grow regardless, limbs piercing through the ceiling. Chunks of stone rained down into the Pits, and Jonathan simply turned and ran, dragging Eleanor after him. He sprinted toward the staircase, and just before he ascended he caught sight of one of the endless identical defiled engravings.

    It was smiling.

 Chapter Twenty-Two

    Jonathan hauled a comatose Eleanor though the passages below Ukaresh. After only a few steps he scooped her up into his arms as he dodged confused creatures and snarls of tree limbs winding through open spaces. The warren of tunnels was in no danger of collapsing, for the city was made of older and sterner stuff even than the Black Garden, but the bloodthirsty plants had introduced more than a modicum of chaos.

    The normal edge of traveling through Ukaresh had taken on a different flavor, as those who might have preyed upon an unwary passerby were themselves hunted by the shifting and rustling branches of trees. It was a preoccupation that would not last long, but Jonathan took advantage of it to rush headlong, cane hooked over one arm as he carried Eleanor. When he emerged from the warrens he found the streets had been transformed into a dense forest, dark green leaves glittering and drinking in any light they could find.

    The city trembled as Ukari stirred in her distant palace, the tremors of She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed taking an interest. Jonathan knew that the overgrowth was of little moment; it could be cleared with a wave of her hand if she wanted, though it was more likely she would let it do as it wished. Challenges such as these kept Ukaresh honest. Yet he hadn¡¯t merely introduced a new and living decoration to the city, and it was her reaction to the Garden¡¯s new nature that worried him.

    He sprinted along cluttered streets, jumping over or circling around stalled conveyances ¨C wheeled, legged, and otherwise ¨C ducking tree branches that moved with a distinct malevolent animus. Buildings and inhabitants alike fought back, peripatetic shops and monstrous creatures crushing and tearing. Jonathan dodged a falling trunk that groaned and snarled the whole way down, twigs lashing like knives, and vaulted up an angled storefront to get above street level.

    It wasn¡¯t quite possible to traverse by rooftop, as the buildings of Ukaresh were an eclectic collection with domes, pyramids, slopes, and entirely open ceilings, but it still gave him enough height to take shortcuts. As he leapt across streets and slithered down the sides of domes or steep-sloped roofs, he could see that in some places the outburst of overgrowth had already been cleared. Around the big bulk of the palace, the trunks and branches were being actively twisted into something else, though he didn¡¯t know how long Ukari would be distracted by the emergency.

    Crispin¡¯s came into view at last and he burst through the door, ducking a branch that had grown through a window and bolting up the stairs. Finally he made it out onto the pavilion where the Endeavor was tethered, finding three crew hacking at encroaching twigs before they could get too close to the lines. Jonathan simply jumped onto the descent line, holding Eleanor with one hand and steadying himself with the other.

    ¡°Loose them and come up,¡± Jonathan snapped at them, preferring to leave as soon as possible. One of the men stopped chopping at wood and unclipped the tethers, the other two piling on after him as the people watching above started hauling in the lines. The Endeavor bobbed upward, leaving them swaying as they were rolled in, but Jonathan¡¯s grip was firm and he jumped off onto the deck the moment the line cleared the hatch.

    ¡°What did you do?¡± Antomine stood waiting with his Lux Guard and the maids, outraged and incensed.

    ¡°Helped Eleanor,¡± Jonathan said shortly, passing off the unconscious woman to her attendants. ¡°The new knowledge was too much for her, but I didn¡¯t anticipate this reaction.¡± He turned to the nearest airman. ¡°Tell the captain to get us going as fast and as high as possible,¡± he said, and the man bolted for the speaking-tube.

    ¡°This latest debacle does not exactly inspire trust,¡± Antomine bit out. ¡°You were supposed to be merely performing an errand.¡±

    ¡°The errand went fine,¡± Jonathan said, turning to look out at Ukaresh as the ship¡¯s engines sent them lurching forward. ¡°However, I needed to stop Eleanor from hurting herself. Sunlight has many effects, but it seems that mere exposure to it changed the nature of the Black Garden. It has learned something.¡±

    Antomine¡¯s lips twisted. He didn¡¯t know what the Black Garden was, that much was clear, but it was easy enough to guess. The devouring forest was being beaten back, but the disposition of Ukaresh had been permanently altered.

    ¡°I won¡¯t pretend I care about the chaos you¡¯ve sown in this particular foreign port, but you are proof of why the Inquisition is so careful,¡± Antomine said. ¡°All you have done is leave destruction in your wake.¡± Jonathan waved it away, unconcerned with that particular opinion.

    ¡°My worry is more the opinion of the mistress of Ukaresh,¡± Jonathan said. ¡°Surely she will realize the origin of this particular issue.¡±

    ¡°Can we survive her displeasure?¡± Antomine asked after a moment, more concerned with pragmatic reality than further castigating Jonathan for his actions.

    ¡°I certainly hope so,¡± Jonathan said, pausing briefly to consider his resources. ¡°I have nothing that would truly halt her wrath, but if you can blunt her first reaction, perhaps I can use words.¡±

    ¡°Me?¡± Antomine asked, raising his eyebrows. ¡°I¡¯m fairly certain I have nothing that can stand up to that.¡±

    ¡°No challenge to her primacy would work,¡± Jonathan agreed. ¡°I know not what your secrets are, but if you can offer an invitation instead, that may give her pause.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± Antomine said, brows furrowed as he thought, his white-pupiled eyes fixed on Jonathan though not really seeing him.

    ¡°Jonathan!¡± Ukari¡¯s voice flayed the air, the howl coming from all the way back in the palace, which was receding visibly as Montgomery pushed the engines to their limits. Glass crazed and cracked from the sound, as Ukari suddenly towered over the city. She looked the same as before, impossibly perfect and illuminated by her own glory, but writ so large that she could have seized the Endeavor with one hand.

    She reached for them, gargantuan claws poised to grip and rend, as Antomine stepped out onto the railed walkway that encircled the cargo deck. Jonathan joined him, unable to perceive what mysteries Antomine was invoking as his white eyes glowed, and the reaching hand paused for a moment. Jonathan took the opportunity to bow before looking far, far up at the golden eyes high above.

    ¡°My Lady Ukari,¡± he said, completely unworried about being heard. ¡°I apologize for the unintended effects of my attempts to address Eleanor¡¯s behavior. Certainly I never intended to disrupt Ukaresh, let alone the Black Garden.¡±

    ¡°You wish to call it an accident?¡± Ukari sneered, the voice of She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed hitting with nearly physical force. It wasn¡¯t volume, despite her titanic size, but the hammer blow of each primordial word backed by righteous fury. ¡°You come to My city, abuse My hospitality, and strike at one of My pillars?¡±

    ¡°I fully admit that my visit was not what I wished,¡± Jonathan said, picking his words carefully. As he had told Antomine, challenging Ukari was always doomed to fail, so diverting her with something unexpected was the best approach. ¡°I certainly thought that Eleanor¡¯s introduction to the Black Garden would only be helpful. Never did I imagine that the Black Garden itself would be affected.¡±

    ¡°Yet it was!¡± Ukari leaned down, baring pointed teeth from a mouth large enough to eat the Endeavor in a single bite. ¡°The Black Garden is gone and you are responsible.¡±

    ¡°If I may point out, Lady Ukari,¡± Jonathan said respectfully. ¡°The Black Garden is not exactly gone. It has changed ¡ª and it has changed due to sunlight. Whatever its new form is, whatever new insights it has discovered, it is perhaps the only thing this side of the Arch of Khokorron that holds those secrets.¡± Aside from himself, of course, but he was not amenable to staying.

    ¡°Do you think that is enough to offset what you¡¯ve done?¡± Ukari growled, but she was clearly less incensed now that he had pointed out how potentially valuable the change was. He had no idea what the end result would be, but it would be valuable.

    ¡°No, and I can only beg your forgiveness,¡± Jonathan said, not too proud to grovel at least a little. Being too obsequious would end as poorly as being too defiant, so he kept his tone strictly polite. ¡°I would prevail upon what remains of our relationship that you focus on what you have gained rather than what insult has been done to you.¡±

    ¡°Our relationship.¡± Ukari laughed, a low throaty growl, and she pointed a massive finger at the airship. ¡°You were always shameless, Jonathan. I liked that about you.¡±

    Jonathan inclined his head, judging it best not to speak. She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed stood there, a titan, looking down at them with eyes of molten gold and an enigmatic twist to her lips.

    ¡°In recognition of what we once shared, you may live,¡± she said at last. ¡°But you will not go unpunished.¡± Ukari lifted her hands, spreading them wide. ¡°I cast you out, Jonathan Heights. You and yours are no longer welcome here. Ukaresh is forbidden to you, from now until the end of time.¡±

    There was a great rush of wind, a roar like the crack of thunder, and Ukaresh was gone. The ship¡¯s spotlights shone down on cracked stone and tangled briars. Lumpen mushrooms pushed up through buried shapes that might hint a city had once been there, though that might just have been the play of shadows on the corrugated landscape. Jonathan let out a long breath, very much aware of how lightly he¡¯d gotten off ¡ª mostly because he had merely transmuted the Garden, rather than destroyed it. Beyond which, Ukari had clearly enjoyed the chaos the destruction of the Pits had wrought, and if she had been in a truly foul state of mind no words or force would have stopped her.

    ¡°Is the city simply gone?¡± Antomine asked, looking out on the dark desolation.

    ¡°It is for us,¡± Jonathan confirmed, turning away from what that he had once marked as the center of the true east, a port without which any significant exploration was impossible. ¡°I do not know the extent of the mysteries that Ukari is familiar with, but if she says we are forbidden, we will not find it. Others may, but not us.¡±

    ¡°Likely for the best,¡± Antomine said, matching pace with him as they headed for the stairs. ¡°I will have to consider very closely the future of this expedition, Mister Heights. We were lucky, and just because you managed to deflect that thing¡¯s wrath you are not absolved of rousing it to begin with.¡±

    ¡°That is simply the nature of venturing so far out,¡± Jonathan said impatiently. ¡°Anywhere you go, anything you do ¡ª everything in the east other than raw wilderness is steeped in powers and secrets. Every landmark has a protector or ruler, and mere wariness or caution is insufficient to contend with them. If you are so worried about stirring the demons out here, then you should not have come, for that is inevitable in a journey such as ours.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps, but you seem uncommonly careless,¡± Antomine said. ¡°Or uncommonly destructive. You are not merely risking yourself, but all of us, and in ways beyond mere injury or death.¡± He stopped at the stair well, reaching out for Jonathan for a moment before stopping himself. Jonathan¡¯s simmering presence clearly warned the inquisitor away from laying hands on him. ¡°I will attend to Eleanor,¡± he said instead. ¡°I suspect Captain Montgomery will need a new course.¡±

    Jonathan¡¯s hand tightened on his cane as Antomine strode off, but he wasn¡¯t so childish as to reject the suggestion; he had intended to visit the captain regardless. He took a moment to regain command of himself and then ascended to the bridge, cane tapping brisk warning as he strode along the halls. He still halted at the entry to the bridge to be granted access, and judging by Montgomery¡¯s sour look he was no more pleased than Antomine. The captain was, however, far more conversant with the hazards of exploring the dark and didn¡¯t bother to castigate Jonathan for what had happened.

    ¡°Since we don¡¯t have a city to steer by, it puts a right hole in our navigation,¡± he said instead, nearly chewing on his pipe as he directed Jonathan over to the maps. ¡°We¡¯ve got to get our bearings again.¡±

    ¡°Certainly,¡± Jonathan acknowledged, looking over the map where Ukaresh had been. Even its symbol had been erased, as if it had never existed, but fortunately he was more familiar with the immediate surroundings than other places in the far east. Markings showing danger were scattered over the entire area, but some of those dangers could be useful.

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°I believe the best way to move forward would be to allow ourselves to be pushed backward.¡± He slid his finger to one of the symbols below their location on the map. ¡°Trying to cross the river south will put us in a trap, leading to a sargasso of sorts. We can burn our way out of it with fire dust, and we will be somewhat further away but we will know precisely where.¡± He tapped a point on a ridgeline to the south and west.

    ¡°Can¡¯t follow it east, huh?¡± Montgomery eyed the map, where a vague line of a river traveled toward their destination for a few dozen miles before terminating.

    ¡°The river itself leads nowhere. Crossing it, no matter what direction you go, will put you in the sargasso,¡± Jonathan said, turning away from the map. ¡°In fact, it will look like an ocean. A powerful enough light will show the other side until you cross, at which point it recedes in every direction. Once we arrive at the sargasso the mists can be burned away ¡ª otherwise it is not unlike the way that corpse trapped us before. Perhaps they are in some way related, but that is not why we are here.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± Montgomery said, frowning at the map and then turning to give orders. Jonathan left him to it and returned to the passenger¡¯s deck. He stopped before his cabin, hand on the latch, and then turned to knock on the door to Eleanor¡¯s room. Antomine answered, eyeing Jonathan with disfavor.

    ¡°I gave her some meditations to do,¡± he said, in response to Jonathan¡¯s unasked question. ¡°She¡¯s struggling with a great deal of confusion.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not confused!¡± Eleanor¡¯s waspish voice came from behind Antomine, free of either hysteria or bloodthirst. ¡°Let him in.¡± Antomine glanced back, then stepped out of the way. It was the first time in the entire voyage that he¡¯d even been in Eleanor¡¯s cabin, and she¡¯d decorated it with wall hangings and pieces of art that clearly had come from the places they¡¯d stopped along the way.

    Rather than lying in bed like an invalid, Eleanor was closeted in an overstuffed armchair bolted to the deck ¡ª he wasn¡¯t even sure when that had been brought on board. Her hair was undone and a stack of classical religious texts lay on the table at her elbow. Judging by the worn covers, they had been donated by Antomine.

    ¡°Well?¡± She demanded, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at him.

    ¡°I merely wanted to see how you were doing,¡± Jonathan said, tapping his fingers on his cane.

    ¡°Pretty terrible,¡± she said bluntly. She didn¡¯t look too put out, but he well knew what it was like to grapple with a sudden and profound insight. Knowledge couldn¡¯t be unlearned, new perceptions could never be removed, so all that could be done was wrestle with whatever harsh truths had been revealed.

    ¡°I would like to apologize,¡± Jonathan said. It was at least two-thirds genuine; he would not have deviated from that course regardless, but he hadn¡¯t thought it would affect her so much. Or that there would be such a connection between the Garden¡¯s secrets and those of sunlight. ¡°I knew only a little about the Garden, but I had expected it would lie along your path to begin with.¡±

    ¡°Well, it wasn¡¯t,¡± Eleanor said bluntly. ¡°It was horrible. And you left me alone with her. Do you know what she¡¯s like?¡±

    ¡°I do,¡± Jonathan said imperturbably. ¡°I would have thought you would find her fine company in other circumstances.¡±

    ¡°Maybe, but you know what? I think she was disappointed in me,¡± Eleanor said bitterly. ¡°That¡¯s the worst thing. I¡¯m just¡­¡± She trailed off and then snapped at him. ¡°Just go! Both of you! Out!¡± Jonathan inclined his head for a moment and retreated, followed by Antomine.

    ¡°Did you at least get what you needed out of that mess?¡± Antomine asked sourly.

    ¡°I did, in fact,¡± Jonathan said, touching his coat where the fruit still beat slowly in his pocket. ¡°For which I am thankful. The way forward is complicated slightly by the lack of a city for reference, but we should be back on course in a few days.¡±

    ¡°The Arch of Khokorron,¡± Antomine said, matching Jonathan¡¯s stride. ¡°What should I know in advance?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re still some days away,¡± Jonathan cautioned. ¡°More than a week, perhaps. The Arch itself merely serves to allow passage to deeper reaches, traveling it properly requires certain provisions. Nothing too esoteric for you; it is simply a matter of traveling through it. I am the only one at risk.¡±

    ¡°I will hold you to that,¡± Antomine said darkly, and stalked off to his cabin. Jonathan returned to his own and wrapped the heart-fruit in paper, which he then stashed in the secure compartment of his safe. It was mere prudence, and besides which he didn¡¯t quite trust that Eleanor would be satisfied with paltry words. Not the ones she¡¯d said, and not the ones she had yet to say. He judged it well within her character to try and repossess the fruit of the Garden.

    So far, the twisted perspective necessary to open the hidden compartment had kept it safe, and while nothing was certain given Eleanor¡¯s own secrets, it was the best option he had available. Best to remove that temptation, or else be forced to remove Eleanor entirely. He would prefer not to be driven to that extremity.

    He found himself in the observation room once again as the ship headed south for the next few hours, its searchlights revealing very little but a thorny waste below them. In the distance there were flashes of varicolored lightning from the east¡¯s peculiar weather, and pools of luminous vapor were dotted here and there on the ground, but nothing of real note revealed itself. Eleanor walked in, sneered in his direction, and took herself to the other side of the small room. She stared fixedly out the window, but her reflection in the glass revealed wild and reddened eyes.

    Earlier in his life, in another time, he might have attempted to comfort her, or to make amends, but he was at a loss now. The future became more sharply curtailed the closer they drew to the goal; the consequences of the present less relevant. The demands and niceties of ordinary human interaction seemed unimportant, yet he knew they could not be ¡ª both for the pragmatic goal of reaching sunlight, and the transcendent one of being worthy of it.

    ¡°Eleanor,¡± he said, and paused. He couldn¡¯t assure her it would pass ¡ª it never did. What she faced was truth, and truth was not transitory. Nor could he say it got easier as time went on, for many burdens only got heavier with age.

    ¡°In my experience, it is best to find a goal to drive toward,¡± he said instead, as she looked toward him with sullen resentment. ¡°Something where you can subordinate and use what you know. A secret hanging over you is far different than one you can harness for a task.¡±

    ¡°Great,¡± Eleanor said bitingly. ¡°That is fascinating and helpful.¡± Jonathan didn¡¯t reply. He knew better than to try and interrupt a good mad. She would remember and possibly use his advice sometime in the future, but only if he didn¡¯t push. Such an understanding was almost a secret in its own right; he knew with a few carefully calculated words he could ruin her future, turn her onto a path of self-destruction.

    Jonathan blinked and let the sunlight in his soul chase away the shadows of such dark thoughts. He could not fully atone for what he had done to Eleanor, but he could set her on a proper course instead. That required a certain degree of delicacy and judgement, and he would have to pay close attention to her in the future ¡ª but for the moment, he could only leave her be.

    Instead of attempting any more conversation, he selected one of his notebook and began extracting what he had written of the Arch of Khokorron and its environs. Unlike much of the east, which teemed with strange life and odd phenomena, the area around the Arch ¡ª starting just before it and stretching far into the distance ¡ª was a waste, barren and crumbled. The creatures there were small, harsh, and venomous, but with luck they wouldn¡¯t need to spend much time on the ground.

    On the sargasso that was their next destination he knew very little, only having been forced there once, when he was far younger and less observant. He was certain about being able to burn away the mists that entrapped the area, but of what inhabited it he had little idea. It was not very fearsome in his memory, but he had been quite young.

    Antomine joined them in the observation room some hours later, the three of them taking a meal together in strained silence. The state of the supplies was obvious by the gaminess of the meat, the mismatched flavorings that attempted to cover it and failed, and the watered-down ship¡¯s ale. They weren¡¯t out of food or drink, but there was a clear strain, given the recourse to less preferable victuals.

    The only words Eleanor spoke were to ask Jonathan to pass over the pot of mixed seasonings he had prepared for himself, which he did with equanimity. The maids ate together at a different desk, using it as their table, with no pretense of attending Eleanor. That seemed an odd note, but he had no idea what she had said or done under the influence of the Garden¡¯s secrets.

    ¡°This detour you¡¯ve sent us on,¡± Antomine said abruptly. ¡°You did say that you would keep us abreast of such developments. I am aware that I have little context for what we might find out here, and what importance it might have, but there is no reason to keep me in the dark. Or the rest of us.¡±

    ¡°So far as I am aware there is nothing exceptional about the sargasso save its penchant for trapping the unwary.¡± Jonathan said, mindful that he had, in fact, failed to inform either of his fellow travelers about their next stop. It was an unnecessary lapse and he took himself firmly to task for it. ¡°The intention is to use fire dust to burn off the edges and simply leave along the south shore, and thus follow the ridgeline to the Dead Battle and thence to the Arch. Without Ukaresh I am uncertain as to the disposition of the more northerly route.¡±

    ¡°This is not a place to be uncertain in,¡± Antomine observed.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Jonathan agreed. ¡°I am not aware of any landmarks of note between the river and the Arch ¡ª and we should not have to resupply again until after we pass through. From my knowledge, I would say two weeks to crossing the Arch.¡±

    ¡°Two weeks,¡± Eleanor said, biting off each word, measuring the time by the state of their supplies. ¡°Then we have to actually reach the destination. And at least three more months back.¡± He¡¯d seen the phenomenon before on other expeditions, where someone¡¯s world narrowed to how much longer they¡¯d be away from home. Admittedly, Eleanor had better reason than most.

    ¡°Returning should be easier,¡± Jonathan assured them. ¡°Men are creatures of the west, and going home does not draw so much trouble as leaving it. Montgomery needs only the one instrument to find a course that way. Half the reason we have found so many obstacles is that we are not meant to be in the east.¡± Jonathan took a sip of ale, patting his lips with his handkerchief. ¡°We are as alien here as any of the creatures we¡¯ve seen would be in Beacon, and our presence drags and catches at the nature of the world. Returning west would be running before the wind, if you like, rather than into a storm.¡±

    ¡°And thus the reason why it is so important to ensure we stay human, and not succumb to strange knowledge that might twist us and the place we live,¡± Antomine said pointing his fork at Jonathan.

    ¡°Yet operating entirely in ignorance of the world outside is just as much a risk,¡± Jonathan rebutted. ¡°Though I¡¯ll grant you, exploration is a uniquely hazardous occupation.¡± In the end, every explorer would reach a limit. Either they would find themselves unable to voyage out into the darkness without twisting themselves beyond the bounds of humanity, or they would find something out there so alluring they vanished into the greater world. The members of the Exploration Society were the former, which was likely why they were so infuriated by his success. Simple impotent envy.

    ¡°The Illuminated King himself authorized this expedition, did he not?¡± Antomine speared another forkful of braised and sauced meat, the ingredients and spices entirely sourced from the east. ¡°Yet the explorers are a small group of fringe individuals. And so they should remain. Humanity does benefit from a handful of rare outliers, but too many and they pull us all apart.¡± He chewed and swallowed. ¡°Thus why it is not something anyone should advocate for.¡±

    ¡°It seems rather moot, out here beyond civilization,¡± Jonathan said, finishing the last bite on his own plate. While a certain amount of expertise with the culinary arts had kept eating from being a chore, it was certainly not something to relish. Especially as each passing day and league brought him closer to his destination. ¡°We are all the outliers here, one way or another.¡±

    ¡°But we don¡¯t stay out here.¡± Antomine sipped wine, rather than ale, though it was equally watered down. ¡°Eventually, captain and crew and passengers return home. We transmit our experiences and knowledge, and how we treat both of those tints what filters out into the core. Not to mention that it¡¯s better that we don¡¯t come back monsters, let loose on the homeland.¡±

    Eleanor scowled at the last, throwing down her fork and vanishing back to her cabin, leaving a portion of her meal uneaten. The two maids shared a glance and, by some silent mutual agreement, Sarah rose and took both her plate and Eleanor¡¯s with her as she went after her nominative mistress. Antomine looked both surprised and slightly embarrassed, lifting a hand to rub at the back of his neck in the manner of the youth he looked and only infrequently acted like.

    Jonathan expected that particular barb was, if not merely a passing commentary on the perspective of the Inquisition, actually directed at him. It wasn¡¯t one he was even particularly concerned with refuting, since he well knew that what drove him was no longer any ordinary human desire. He would have called it better, for the quality of sunlight was far above any of the ephemeral concerns of the mundane world, but after all his experience he knew the folly of trying to convince anyone of such a thing.

    ¡°I hope that you will have helped Eleanor regain control of herself before she returns to Beacon,¡± Jonathan said instead.

    ¡°Why, Mister Heights, is that an actual speck of human compassion?¡± Antomine raised his eyebrows, his tone only partly mocking. Jonathan refused to rise to the bait.

    ¡°I imagine that most of your fellow inquisitors are perceived as less than friendly,¡± he remarked instead, laying his fork neatly crosswise on his empty plate. ¡°The behavior of all men should be appropriate to the time and the place. I am out here for a purpose, and much of our success rests on me. My knowledge of the east is unique; some of it cannot be written down, much of it is better left without records where more impressionable minds may find them.¡±

    ¡°You do have a point,¡± Antomine said, standing and taking his plate. ¡°But I am not quite convinced that you are merely serious-minded, Mister Heights.¡± It was not exactly a devastating blow, but that was the parting shot he chose to leave on, returning to the galley with his dishes. Surprisingly, the inquisitor was a deft hand both at cooking and cleaning up, a skill necessary for long shipboard stays, and performed his share of the chores without complaint.

    Jonathan watched him go, feeling as if he had failed to grasp some vital point, missed some subtext in the conversation, despite Antomine being fairly blunt. Then he cleaned up his own place and followed, leaving Marie alone in the observation room. Eleanor didn¡¯t emerge, just Sarah with the dishware.

    She still hadn¡¯t shown herself by the time the river appeared nearly a day later, its waters dark and troubled in the Endeavor¡¯s lights. Someone, clearly remembering Jonathan¡¯s description, focused the most powerful beams off into the distance, where they played on the far bank a mile or so distant. Yet as the ship moved out over the water, that shore seemed to founder and crumble away, an ever-growing expanse of water stretching out around them.

    The vibration of the engines became strangely muted, and mist plumed upward from the waters. It shrouded the landscape and wrapped itself around dark shapes in the water as they passed deeper within, as if it were a heavy blanket over the world. Slowly it became clear that the shapes were craft; ships wooden and iron, rotted and rusted in shallow water. Other shadows emerged higher up, of airships still floating despite the depredations of time and tide, wrought in strange and puzzling designs.

    They had entered the sargasso.

 Chapter Twenty-Three

    Jonathan preferred not to spend much time within the sargasso. He was only using it so they could get their bearings, which was so against the nature of the place that it was certain to resist. Yet, compared to some of what could be found in the east, a place that was merely becalmed was not particularly fearsome. In truth, he suspected the careful business of using fire dust would be more hazardous than the place itself.

    He descended to the bridge, nearly bumping into the crewman sent to fetch him, and found Montgomery in deep conference with the navigator. The captain straightened up when Jonathan entered, and gestured wordlessly to the triskolabe, where the various instruments contained therein drifted aimlessly. That was unexpected, but hardly concerning.

    ¡°It should clear once we burn away the mist,¡± Jonathan said, waving at the plumes of vapor drifting outside the front window. In places it was thick enough to throw back a wall of white from diffracted zint-light, in others it merely hazed the view of drifting and decaying shapes in the water or air.

    ¡°It seems a tricky proposition to do that without incinerating the ship,¡± Montgomery observed. ¡°We¡¯ll need to tether somewhere.¡±

    ¡°Certainly,¡± Jonathan peered out the front window. ¡°Any cluster of vessels will do, but the larger the better. More fuel for the fire dust to work.¡±

    ¡°Is that a good idea?¡± Montgomery said skeptically. ¡°It¡¯s bad luck to burn a ship, and there¡¯s no telling what¡¯s aboard these things.¡±

    ¡°Then perhaps we can find something already wrecked to break apart,¡± Jonathan said, a touch impatiently. ¡°I¡¯ll grant you that simply throwing fire dust into the air is not a sufficient approach, but it should be a straightforward operation to halt and find some fuel.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± Montgomery said grimly and started passing orders to the pilot. There was no need of a navigator in such a place. From the peculiarly soft feel of the engines, any sort of movement was difficult, and Jonathan wasn¡¯t certain anything that drifted away in the mists could be found again.

    He left Montgomery to it, having little input on the search for proper anchorage. The man knew the requirements, and no esoteric knowledge was necessary. Jonathan¡¯s main contribution would be handling the flame dust, and that required more care than actual skill.

    In anticipation of the next steps he descended to the cargo deck, bypassing crew who were removing supplies from crates there for maintenance, and proceeded to where the fire dust was stored. Lifting the obsidian cask from the careful packing, he broke the wax seal and lifted the lid enough to see the shifting, orange-glimmering stuff inside. It occurred to him only belatedly that if someone had pilfered the fire dust, he wouldn¡¯t have known and they would have had to resort to more desperate measures to escape.

    He repacked it and latched the crate shut again, not knowing when they would actually need it, before returning to his cabin. Neither Antomine nor Eleanor were in evidence on the passenger deck, and only Sarah was in the observation room. It made him uneasy, as driving his fellow passenger to Antomine rather than keeping her on his side shifted the balance of power, but he doubted it could change anything at this late date. They had come too far to simply turn around; the real concern was doing something contrary to Jonathan¡¯s advice and thus imperiling the expedition.

    After so many issues he had very few preparations remaining in either his safe or his crates to address any trouble they might find. The next time they were forced to tether and resupply, they would have to hold off whatever things lurked in the dark by might of arms and force of will alone. Thus far they had not been overly careless, but it had been amply demonstrated how even the smallest lapse in judgement could result in catastrophe.

    A knock came at the cabin door, interrupting his search through his earlier notes; an effort to find anything he may have recorded regarding the environs outside the sargasso. He had thought it unlikely, but lacking any better use of his time he had sheafs of old paper scattered over his desk. Jonathan opened the door to find one of the airmen, and raised his brows in silent inquiry.

    ¡°We¡¯ve spotted a ship,¡± the airman said. ¡°S¡¯got Flame Cult insignia and we think it has people on it!¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± Jonathan said, pressing his lips together to keep from berating the man. None of that was relevant to him, save for the fact that this was quite far from where the Cult of Flame normally operated. Though considering the properties of the sargasso, there was no telling from where ¨C or when ¨C the ship in question hailed. He picked up his cane and followed the crewman down to the bridge, where the ship in question was clearly visible.

    It was an older airship, with a body of myceliplank and an envelope of treated canvas, quite unlike the sleek metal of the Endeavor but still clearly of human design. From the bulky shape underneath the tattered envelope it was some sort of cargo hauler, and the red insignia of the Cult of Flame was painted over it in a dozen places. Some of the icons were faded with time and others newer, but overall it gave off the air of a venerable vessel, aged but not old.

    Jonathan wasn¡¯t sure what it used for lifting gas, as it was still mostly buoyant despite significant damage to its envelope, but it had also tethered itself to the underside of one of the floating alien wrecks. Ropes rain from the listing airship to the odd derelict, some inscrutable geometric shape that seemed to be all wood skeleton, with nothing remaining of whatever machinery might have provided locomotion. It was hard to miss why Montgomery thought it had people ¡ª they were clearly visible, waving frantically from tilted railings.

    ¡°I see nothing untoward about them,¡± Jonathan said, studying the scene for a moment. There were certainly things that preyed upon the unwary by pretending to be in distress, but Jonathan didn¡¯t think this was one of them.

    ¡°Aside from being Cult of Flame heretics?¡± Antomine interrupted, arriving at the bridge and stepping through the door. ¡°I would think that was issue enough.¡±

    Montgomery frowned at Antomine, but Jonathan himself was indifferent. While trafficking with the people of the Godforge was technically forbidden, there was a brisk smuggling trade and he¡¯d never found the south particularly objectionable. It certainly wasn¡¯t as strange as the east.

    ¡°Flame Cult or not, they¡¯re still men, and a good captain doesn¡¯t leave airmen in distress,¡± Montgomery said stiffly. ¡°Especially not in a place like this.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m for it,¡± Eleanor butted in, appearing behind Antomine and crowding in on the three men. ¡°Don¡¯t know that I get a vote but we¡¯re getting out of here anyway, wouldn¡¯t take much to at least tow that ship with us. Besides, we¡¯re using the fire dust to break the mists right? Wouldn¡¯t the Cult of Flame be able to use it better than we can?¡± She talked rapidly, as if afraid she wouldn¡¯t be allowed to finish her sentences, but Jonathan had to credit her logic.

    ¡°They would indeed,¡± Jonathan said approvingly, though more to support something that would undermine Antomine¡¯s point of view than out of any real emotion of his own. Eleanor gave him a flat look, which he ignored. He hardly expected her to be happy over a single endorsement. ¡°Even if they have no proper clergy among them, the lay members of the Cult of Flame still have enough passing familiarity with their god to handle it more safely and apply it with more finesse.¡±

    ¡°You cannot be seriously thinking of consorting with such people,¡± Antomine said in disbelief. ¡°I can cede that it¡¯s necessary to deal with unsavory elements here and there, but this is hardly necessary.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re getting a lot more upset about a bunch of lost guys than actual monsters,¡± Eleanor said with a sneer.

    ¡°It is not the completely alien that is the most tempting, but that which is closest to the familiar.¡± Antomine frowned at Eleanor, his hand reaching for his inquisitor¡¯s medallion. ¡°The Cult of Flame serves a god that has its own interests in mind, not those of humanity. Yet it cloaks itself in a familiar skin, which is the greatest danger.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve got a hard time convincing me that a bunch of poor bedraggled airmen are a greater danger than She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed,¡± Eleanor said, tone contemptuous and cutting. ¡°I for one would like to do something to help people where there isn¡¯t something monstrous at play.¡±

    ¡°You say that now, but I very much doubt you¡¯ve met one of their clerics,¡± Antomine said darkly.

    ¡°Nor will we now, I expect,¡± Jonathan said. ¡°Else they would have already done what we intend and burned their way out.¡±

    ¡°No Cult of Flame ship flies without at least a junior deacon,¡± Antomine pointed out.

    ¡°Accidents happen,¡± Montgomery grunted, turning back to the bridge viewport. ¡°Heaven knows we¡¯ve seen enough of that out here. I¡¯m not going to propose we give them half our supplies or anything, but we can definitely work together to leave this place.¡±

    Antomine gave Montgomery a sharp look, then glanced around at the rest of the bridge. Jonathan could see the calculation behind his eyes; if he pushed on the topic he would not find friendly ears. The fastest way to undermine authority was to assert it when it would have no effect, so Antomine eventually decided against forbidding the enterprise.

    ¡°I will preside over any meetings or discussions,¡± Antomine said instead. ¡°And ensure that nothing illicit occurs.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d welcome that,¡± Montgomery said politely, and as far as Jonathan could tell he actually meant it. Ordinary men had far more respect for the role of the Inquisition than people like himself or Eleanor. The captain began giving orders and the men worked the bridge controls, steering the ship around to the half-floating vessel and the strange apparatus to which it was tethered.

    Even if Jonathan didn¡¯t see or sense anything beyond the obvious, Montgomery wasn¡¯t foolhardy and had the artillery and the chase guns manned before they moved any closer. Their approach was cause of apparent jubilation from the other ship, haggard men shouting and jumping and clapping each other on the back.

    The men of the south spoke a different tongue than that which was common in Beacon, but most airmen had a smattering of the language. As did most inquisitors, for obvious reasons, so Jonathan was not surprised when Antomine followed the bos¡¯n out onto the exterior walk below the bridge to take part in the shouting exchange that followed. Jonathan himself could follow most of it, but Eleanor scowled, brow wrinkling as she listened.

    ¡°Why is it ¡ª I can tell something.¡± She struggled to voice what exactly bothered her so. ¡°There¡¯s something odd behind their words. I can almost see a pattern behind it?¡±

    ¡°The more you learn, the more you can see and interpret,¡± Jonathan said, standing at the doorway with Eleanor. He didn¡¯t notice what she was talking about himself, but he was familiar with the phenomenon. Something about her experience with the Garden must have given her insight that he lacked. ¡°But it is best not to try and pursue such connections unless you know exactly what you are doing. I believe you have no desire to become conversant with any more profound secrets at the moment.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± she said flatly. She didn¡¯t turn away, though her expression contorted into one of deliberate non-concentration, her shoulders hunched and her hands shoved in her pockets.

    The negotiations didn¡¯t take overlong, and soon enough the bos¡¯n returned. Montgomery had the ship move closer, airmen in flight suits running lines over to the other craft. Some crew stayed on the guns, just in case, but the Cult of Flame men didn¡¯t seem to have any mischief in mind.

    Soon enough the two ships were connected, a rope bridge strung along the tethers, and the ranking airman clambered his way over to the Endeavor. Montgomery met him in the canteen, which was cleared out for the purpose, allowing Eleanor and Jonathan to attend along with Antomine. In a way this was not his business, nor Eleanor¡¯s, but Montgomery was no fool and knew that it was better to have the expertise and muscle they represented.

    ¡°Lieutenant Azhir ¡ª reporting, sir!¡± The lieutenant was a classic example of a southerner, short and swarthy, skin reddened and rough, as if chapped by too long next to a fire. Instead of the tattoos that many airmen wore, southerners used brands, and Azhir had several symbols on his upper arm that indicated successful voyages.

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°Sit down,¡± Montgomery said, waving at an empty chair across from him, and Azhir dropped into the seat. ¡°Tell me, Lieutenant, what happened to your captain?¡±

    ¡°He was ¡ª with the deacon,¡± Azhir said, casting nervous glances at where Antomine stood glowering, hands clasped behind his back, with the Lux Guard looming at his shoulder. His command of the tongue of Beacon was rough, but understandable. ¡°Something came from Tor Ilek. Dark fire. And the deacon invoked His Name.¡± Azhir did not dare to speak the name of the fiery god he worshipped. ¡°We were safe ¡ª but they were gone. Scorched shadows.¡± His hands waved in eloquent accompaniment to his chopped words.

    Montgomery very carefully did not look in Jonathan¡¯s direction, but Eleanor snorted. Jonathan merely found it interesting how it implied the Cult of Flame ship had arrived at the sargasso through a different body of water. Not that he was surprised; the sheer variety of vessels implied a broader net than merely some small river in the east.

    ¡°I see,¡± Montgomery said instead. ¡°My condolences. And how did you arrive in this place? We were south of Ukaresh, which is quite far from Tor Ilek.¡± More than a month of journey, though some paths through the east were shorter than others. There might well be routes available to the Cult of Flame that men of Beacon could not take ¡ª like the Bitter Pass, where their fire would keep them warm.

    ¡°We followed the Khorus river,¡± Azhir said with a shrug. ¡°We were ¡ª we headed south, but then this happened. That was two weeks ago. The wrecks have only so much.¡±

    ¡°Well, you¡¯re in luck.¡± Montgomery gestured toward Jonathan. ¡°This gentleman knows how to get us out of here, and while we don¡¯t have much in the way of spare supplies, we can at least get you out, and near Ukaresh.¡±

    ¡°We have fire dust,¡± Jonathan said, when Azhir¡¯s gaze swung his way. ¡°If we burn the mists off, we will be able to exit at a particular point. In truth I am surprised you didn¡¯t manage it yourself.¡± The man¡¯s expression cycled through surprise, greed, awe, and suspicion as Jonathan spoke, finally settling back into a reserved politeness.

    ¡°We had already traded our supplies,¡± Azhir explained. ¡°Our hold is full of metals and spices. Can¡¯t burn metals or spices.¡±

    ¡°What exactly was your ship¡¯s mission and destination?¡± Antomine interrupted, after clearly holding himself back during the earlier exchanges. Azhir hesitated, eyeing the inquisitor¡¯s uniform and the symbol around his neck, but did answer.

    ¡°We were just trading goods at Monake,¡± Azhir protested, which Jonathan recognized as another name for Danby¡¯s Point. He hadn¡¯t been aware it was frequented by the Cult of Flame, but that was the point of smuggling. Besides, they merely needed to tether some other place than Beacon¡¯s outpost, and the Inquisition would be none the wiser.

    ¡°Trade what?¡± Antomine demanded, still glaring at the man.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have a manifest,¡± Azhir protested. ¡°The usual goods. Valuables, information.¡±

    Antomine gave him a hard eye, but if there had been an ulterior motive for the journey, it had been lost with the deacon and the captain. What was left was a ship with cargo that was dead weight and a number of desperate men. Even when they were freed of the sargasso they would have to contend with the weather of the east ¡ª but the Flame Cult had their own ways of dealing with such things. After a few other sharp questions resulted in more protestations of ignorance, Antomine let it drop. It would have seemed a perfunctory investigation, save for the fact that Antomine could sniff out lies and untruths with ease.

    ¡°We were hoping you¡¯d be able to give us a hand with the fire dust,¡± Montgomery said, taking out his pipe before realizing he had nothing to smoke, but pointing the stem at Azhir regardless. ¡°I expect you have more facility with that than we do, and can get it done more quickly with less hazard.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Azhir said firmly, despite his worn appearance. ¡°Any airman of the Godforge knows powdered flame.¡±

    ¡°Then I don¡¯t see any reason to stay here.¡± Montgomery gripped the stem of his pipe between his teeth, even though it was unlit. ¡°Send me four people who can handle the fire dust and we¡¯ll figure out how we¡¯re going to do this.¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir!¡± Azhir leapt to his feet, saluting with fists pressed together, rather than with one hand like they did in Beacon.

    ¡°That was suspiciously easy,¡± Eleanor muttered, as Montgomery had the bos¡¯n show Azhir back to the Flame Cult ship.

    ¡°They want out, and it¡¯s clear that they wouldn¡¯t have a chance taking over the Endeavor,¡± Jonathan said. ¡°They have nothing to lose by cooperating in good faith.¡±

    ¡°And yet they are still part of the Cult of Flame,¡± Antomine said. ¡°Nothing they do can be trusted, for as much as they share our form they share little else. I agree they are desperate men, and are not likely to deliberately compromise this chance ¡ª nevertheless, keep a close eye out. Something simple and straightforward to them may be anathema to us.¡±

    Eleanor shook her head, but Antomine was right. Someone from the Cult of Flame might well casually set something ¨C or someone ¨C ablaze, simply because to them that was a better state to be in. Then there was the hidden pattern in their very words that Eleanor had noticed, something that might seduce the unwary or, worse, enlighten them to see the fire that southerners did. Jonathan imagined that was unlikely, simply because Montgomery had flown south before, but there was no inoculation against knowledge.

    Montgomery left to supervise the transfer of crew, with Antomine following. Eleanor impatiently blew away the lock of hair that had stayed over her face and frowned at Jonathan. Then she suddenly marched out of the room without saying anything. He had no idea what had set her off, especially since she had been so in favor of helping the Flame Cult ship, but she was still clearly suffering from an excess of insight.

    Jonathan took himself to the cargo deck, so as to take possession of the fire dust, and eyed the floating wooden hulk to which the Flame Cult vessel was tethered. Any material would have worked, as it hardly mattered to fire dust, but the construction might make it easier to tow pieces into place ¡ª assuming the properties of levitation were retained by its fragments.

    Enacting the plans took time, more than Jonathan had anticipated. The southerners had to be brought aboard the Endeavor and approved by Antomine, the plans discussed and refined, and men outfitted with flight suits and tools to begin breaking apart the floating wood. The Flame Cult men ended up being Jonathan¡¯s responsibility, as he was the one handling the flame dust, a charge that Jonathan accepted so as to ensure they were on their way as soon as possible. He wished to be done with the sargasso and resume their course.

    ¡°We merely need to set the mist alight and drive it back,¡± he told the four cultists in the language of the south, his hands resting on his cane as he regarded them severely. Three of them quailed under his attention, which Jonathan found rather pitiable, and the fourth was far too fascinated with the cask under Jonathan¡¯s arm.

    ¡°Pay attention!¡± He snapped, and they all jerked and composed themselves into a more acceptable demeanor. ¡°We are far more concerned with avoiding igniting ourselves than we are with efficiency or scope. On the previous occasion I visited this place it only took a small pinch of fire dust and a complete circle. We need to fully break the surroundings of the mists, but that is all. We need no further ritual, no greater pattern.¡±

    ¡°So, a circle ritual,¡± one of them said, and Jonathan had to restrain himself from using certain choice words. For the Flame Cult there probably was no distinction between the use of fire and a religious ceremony, in any context and for any reason.

    ¡°As simple as it can possibly be,¡± Jonathan said. ¡°I remind you that we are not devotees of your god and we have a member of the Inquisition aboard. It will be in your best interests to err on the side of what will achieve the ends I have outlined, even if you deem it blasphemous.¡± That drew some uncertain looks, but judging from the general quality of the men ¨C far below the crew selection Montgomery had decided on for the Endeavor ¨C they were the sloppy sort. Nobody had poor habits in just one area of life, and if they were willing to take half-measures when they dressed and walked and talked, they would be more willing to cut corners on religious observances.

    Perhaps that was why Azhir had sent them over. That one was no fool, at least, but as the ranking officer he was in charge of preparing his ship to finally move once again. Jonathan would have to work with the material he had been given.

    Once he was sufficiently certain the flame cultists wouldn¡¯t immediately do something stupid, he allowed them access to the cask. Unlike a resident of Beacon, they could touch the fire dust with no fear of instant immolation or even worse fates. Indeed, it seemed to want to leap out of the cask into their hands of its own accord, more like a living thing than a proper tool.

    Jonathan only allowed them to take a small portion, the minimum amount necessary to set into place on a single fragment of wood. Endeavor¡¯s crew could only free pieces of the floating remains so quickly, and Jonathan stayed on the railing of the bottom deck to dole out materials as needed.

    ¡°God, I¡¯m so useless,¡± Eleanor said abruptly, appearing next to him as he watched the operation play out under the Endeavor¡¯s spotlights. ¡°My idea and I just sit and watch. Every time I look at them I don¡¯t see people, just¡­¡± She wrinkled her nose, taking an aggressive pull of the cigarette that dangled from the long-handled holder she used. ¡°Things to harvest.¡± She glared at him, clearly blaming him for the state of affairs, which he had to admit was not unwarranted.

    ¡°It is no sin to understand your own rules and limitations, and conduct yourself accordingly,¡± Jonathan said after a moment. He was aware that Eleanor was hardly looking for answers, even had he any to give, but he could at least try and soothe her conscience. For the most part she would have to work through her troubles herself, but he would prefer that she not do any damage in the meantime.

    Eleanor grunted and wandered off again, and the Cult men returned for another portion of fire dust. They seemed entirely incapable of placing the stuff without a brief, ritualistic chant, but it was perfunctory and made no difference he could see. Even Antomine couldn¡¯t find any issues, though of them all he suspected Eleanor would have been the best at discerning it. Something he would not recommend she try, not while she was still raw and vulnerable to the deeper patterns of reality.

    The Endeavor¡¯s crew continued to cut a goodly amount from the floating wooden geodesic, which was large enough that the removed chunks were barely noticeable. Each one was anointed with fire dust and towed out to a safe distance, slowly building up a perimeter. Some of the material made its way back to the Endeavor for curiosities and keepsakes, though Jonathan suspected it would be harder to get past the Inquisition¡¯s strictures than the raw gold they¡¯d picked up.

    As straightforward as the process was, it still took several hours, during which the only other noise in the sargasso was the faint lapping of waves far below and the occasional sigh of mist-scented wind. Jonathan preferred the desolation to other possibilities; fighting some beast or lurking predator would have made establishing the fire dust circle a fraught proposition.

    ¡°Everyone¡¯s clear,¡± the bos¡¯n reported once the preparations were complete and both crews had retreated to their respective vessels. The ring of floating wood was barely visible in the blowing mist, a staccato ring of dark specks enclosing them, and the remainder of the fire dust was packed away in its cask. Jonathan stood at the rear of the bridge, for whatever contribution he could make once the mists were burned away.

    ¡°Light it up,¡± Montgomery ordered, and a thin snake of flame raced away from the Endeavor; a rope sourced from the Flame Cult ship that served as an impromptu fuse. The fire dust ignited next, a sudden billowing wall of flame and heat, orange-red tongues reaching up and consuming the mist around them.

    In the wash of flame, every airman on the bridge flushed red with a sudden fever, an instant malaise as the fire dust recalled the heat of the dream from Angkor Leng. They would likely never be truly rid of it, barring some insight sufficient to throw off the lingering touch of the convalescent god. Some of the men noticeably wilted, but none of them dropped despite the onset. There was nothing to be done save work through it.

    The light of the fire and the sudden removal of the mist cast illumination out to reveal a vast expanse of water, derelicts and wrecks scattered throughout it. Then that, too, began to burn, the vista wavering as the fire consumed the mirage itself, ripping great rents in the apparent landscape. What was left was a stretch of barren and desolate hill, dry and parched, with a series of long-empty canals and fallen locks. Then the fire died away, leaving the two ships and the skeletal floating wood.

    Fire bloomed from the engines of the Flame Cult ship, a propulsive inferno that sent the damaged vessel off to the south. It was abrupt, but Jonathan didn¡¯t blame them for wanting to leave. Antomine had still wanted to down the vessel with the Endeavor¡¯s guns, though he was careful not to say so too loudly, and clearly disapproved of the act of charity when it helped Beacon¡¯s neighbors. Fortunately it couldn¡¯t rightly be called treason, as the Flame Cult was not at war with Beacon and neither the Endeavor nor her counterpart were official navy.

    The accomplishment certainly improved the general air aboard the ship, which had been dour and strained after Ukaresh. Enthusiasm had been lacking for some time, though Jonathan didn¡¯t consider it a true issue. The men had their gold and looted objects to comfort them, with thoughts of becoming rich when they got home. There had been difficulties, but nothing he would consider a true catastrophe.

    ¡°Seems straightforward from here,¡± Montgomery said, eyeing the map. The expanse of hills led eastward, to where they could find a less deceptive river and make their way toward the Arch of Khokorron. ¡°Anything I should know about this route, Mister Heights?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not one I¡¯ve taken before,¡± Jonathan admitted. ¡°I have crossed these hills in the past, however, and while I would not wish to be caught in the open, there is little in the air to threaten us aside from the usual. Caution is warranted, but whatever laid waste to this area has left little behind.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll hold you to that,¡± Montgomery promised.

    The next several days passed without anything of interest passing into the beams of the Endeavor¡¯s searchlights. Partway through, one of the east¡¯s capricious storms blew through, and they had to hastily drive stakes into the packed earth to tether the ship. The raindrops fizzed and bubbled against the ground, here turning it into luminous mud, there sprouting plants that withered and died within moments. The legacy of Ankor Leng protected them from the deluge, proofing the ship against the chaotic effects of the weather.

    ¡°The hell is that?¡± Eleanor demanded, peering out the observation window after the weather cleared. The Endeavor finally had broken out of the hills and into an equally desolate valley, and below them massive figures stood frozen in an eternal battle. Towering clay statues wielded enormous iron weapons, each one humanoid but rendered faceless by a smooth helmet ¡ª one not unlike the Lux Guard wore. The statues were locked in combat with enormous skeletons, strange twisted animals long of claw and fang, grappling and biting the clay. No single figure was smaller than a house, and though they stood statue-still, they exuded an impression of savage motion.

    ¡°The Dead Battle,¡± Jonathan named it, dismissing the macabre panoply and looking ahead. ¡°Which means the Arch of Khokorron is near.¡±

 Chapter Twenty-Four

    ¡°This is not a place we should be,¡± Antomine said.

    For all its fearsome appearance, the Dead Battle was one of the few places in the east where Jonathan had found no real danger. He could not deny that there were great forces at work, both from the sheer energy the figures seemed to hold, and from the fact that the Battle had changed every time he passed it by. Yet nothing there had ever moved when he had been there to watch, or even seemed to notice those who passed over or around or even through the frozen conflict.

    Clearly the inquisitor didn¡¯t share his opinion.

    ¡°The Dead Battle stretches from the barren hills all the way to the threshold,¡± Jonathan replied, turning from the forward window to give him a scornful look. ¡°If you believe you can plot a course that goes around, you are free to try, but it is merely a curiosity.¡±

    ¡°I thought you said there weren¡¯t any landmarks of interest before the Arch,¡± Eleanor accused with a frown.

    ¡°You mentioned the Dead Battle, but I did not think it was this,¡± Antomine said, by way of agreement.

    ¡°It may look fearsome, but there is nothing here we need stop for, nor is there anything that will attack us. Unless things have greatly changed since my last visit this is, in truth, a safer course than the alternatives.¡± Jonathan tapped his cane impatiently against the deck, a dull thump in the carpeted observation room. ¡°After all the places we have been, this should not give you pause.¡±

    ¡°You know as well as I do that not all dangers are physical,¡± Antomine growled. ¡°There is something here that touch upon secrets of the Illuminated King. You may not be able to see it, but to me it shines in the dark.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Eleanor suddenly looked interested. ¡°All the way out here? Inquiring minds would like to know what exactly the Illuminated King was doing so far from Beacon.¡±

    ¡°That is certainly not your business,¡± Antomine said, and turned away. ¡°I will see how much the captain is willing to push the engines.¡± Jonathan knew that was hardly necessary, but he wouldn¡¯t object to Antomine¡¯s desire for haste so long as it didn¡¯t imperil the ship.

    ¡°Must be serious if he¡¯s so ruffled,¡± Eleanor said, taking a long draw on her cigarette. ¡°I¡¯m almost tempted to take a look.¡±

    Jonathan glanced at her, wondering if he should reiterate how poor an idea it would be to try and seek out additional insights, but he saw the bitterness in her eyes. She was talking more about spiting Antomine than finding something for herself, and Jonathan couldn¡¯t say whether that was due to the ongoing struggle with her new perspective or just her usual contrariness. Under the circumstances he thought it best to not to answer directly lest he provoke her into action in any direction ¡ª but it made him doubly glad that he¡¯d hidden the fruit he needed. In her current state of mind she was perfectly capable of destroying it.

    ¡°I¡¯m not certainly he¡¯s actually correct ¡ª or telling the truth.¡± Jonathan settled on saying something more reserved. ¡°There are clearly forces at play, but he may simply be uncomfortable with them thanks to whom he serves. Neither of us are devotees of the Illuminated King.¡±

    ¡°I suppose,¡± Eleanor said, without enthusiasm. ¡°Feels like something this eerie should have some real bite. Actual meaning.¡±

    ¡°There surely is something,¡± Jonathan agreed. ¡°One day people will delve its secrets. But so far, none have ¡ª not that have survived to share their findings, at least.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not ominous at all,¡± Eleanor muttered.

    ¡°One of the more important virtues is knowing when to practice discretion,¡± Jonathan said mildly. Eleanor simply glared.

    Jonathan expected that would be the end of it. The sight of the two forces locked in poses of desperate combat was impressive, the ferocity intimidating, but it was ultimately mere spectacle. The Endeavor flew above it all, and nothing below seemed to notice. It was only slowly and by degrees, a full day later, that he realized something was different on this particular visit to the Dead Battle.

    The observation room seemed to have slowly expanded, the windows growing larger, the carpet flowing out like water to cover the receding borders. The tableau of the Dead Battle had become more visible, despite the only illumination being the Endeavor¡¯s spotlights, almost as if it had grown smaller. In the distance two immense figures loomed, titanic mountains in the shape of people.

    They had been there all along, but it was only in that moment that he realized what he was looking at. With that understanding came change, as the mere presence of the knowledge catalyzed a shift in perspective ¡ª and all the strangeness resolved itself into an approach.

    It was a transfixing sight, taking place in a strange stretch of timeless time. Each second seemed to stretch longer, as if each had more in it than the last. The result was an enforced sort of lassitude as Jonathan glanced over at Antomine and Eleanor. It was a brief motion of the head, but it seemed slow and lazy as the surrounding stretched and warped.

    The two figures grew closer, and smaller ¡ª and yet, stayed the same. They transcended simple space and distance, sizes and positions a constant whether they were distant colossi or nearer giants. The Battle was struck by the same effect, its size and scale unmoored from the lands it occupied.

    In the ages it took for him to rise to his feet, it seemed like the Endeavor had raced across the miles, even if it had barely moved. The distant figures came into focus, with the Dead Battle between them. Neither of the two was distinct, both cloaked in shadow and obscurity, and yet naggingly familiar. Then he realized that the forms were indescribable and indecipherable in the way that the Illuminated King¡¯s true body was impossible to perceive; their size transcendent in the same manner as Ukari.

    These were beings who had grasped the oldest and most primal secrets that could be wrested from the depths of the world. Had meditated upon mysteries undreamt by mortal man, and so returned with understanding enough to shake the firmament. They dwelt here, in the east, where the understandings of men held no sway ¡ª or perhaps such things held no sway because they dwelt in the east.

    Jonathan felt it was no great revelation to understand this, gazing upon forms whose scope and nature he did not and had no wish to comprehend. In those expanded seconds he had ample time to contemplate what he saw, two Players directing a Game on an observation deck grown fat on the residue of their presence. It was enough to explain the raw presence of the Dead Battle, and why its particulars changed each time, but that they chose to make themselves known on this journey, with not a single hint on any prior expedition, put wariness into his heart.

    Then he was on his feet, and the long idyll of short seconds ended. Antomine and Eleanor jumped up as well, the latter glancing at the entrance to the observation room as if to assure herself it was still there. Penelope uncurled from where she was laying underneath a chair, stretched, and sauntered toward the two figures with unhurried grace. Some thought it was superstition, but Jonathan knew better than to question a ship¡¯s cat in matters such as these. Trusting the cat¡¯s judgement, he let the sunlight within him rise up to buoy his mind and soul and, thus fortified, he walked briskly toward the Game and the Players attending it.

    ¡°Mister Jonathan Heights,¡± one of them said. The voice was not the compelling thunder of either Ukari or the Illuminated King; it was soft, ordinary, uninteresting, and all the more deceptive thereby. It even used the tongue of Beacon, lacking any accent.

    ¡°I am,¡± Jonathan acknowledged, as Antomine and Eleanor arranged themselves behind him. Penelope sat at the board, eyeing it with interest, her tail swishing slowly. ¡°I do not believe I know you,¡± he continued, though he wasn¡¯t certain who he was even talking to. There was the definite impression that only one of the two was speaking, but cloaked as they were in their vestments of esoteric knowledge he couldn¡¯t discern more than that.

    ¡°We are acquainted, you and I,¡± the being said again, and Jonathan felt a shock of near-recognition. ¡°Once met, never strangers.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± Jonathan said, as those four words were not possible to forget. ¡°I was not expecting to see you again.¡±

    ¡°Properly speaking, the one you saw was my master,¡± the being demurred. ¡°Things such as I are lost within his presence ¡ª but I was there. Not many things draw attention so rarefied as his, so it behooves me to grant such things ¨C or people ¨C their proper due.¡±

    ¡°Not that we could have missed you,¡± the other being spoke. The voice was jagged and torn, ripped from some greater whole and hurled into reality with little care. ¡°Three children of man, dragging and clawing their way east. Drawing great furrows from the weight of their secrets.¡±

    ¡°Just three?¡± Eleanor said, speaking up out of what sounded like sheer pique. ¡°What about the rest of the crew?¡±

    ¡°Ephemeral things,¡± the raw voice dismissed them. ¡°Barely tracing the surface of the skein. Still children of men, still not of the east, but barely worth consideration.¡±

    ¡°You, though,¡± the first voice said. ¡°Lightless Life; Illuminated Order, and then ¡ª you, Mister Heights. Even we are not familiar with the hooks you¡¯ve sunk into our world.¡±

    ¡°Are you not guarding the Arch of Khokorron?¡± Jonathan asked. ¡°What I seek is just beyond it ¡ª for I have seen sunlight.¡±

    ¡°We guard it, yes, but not for that which might travel from here. Beyond the Arch ¨C through paths long closed, long forbidden, and long dead ¨C lie wild lands. A true east, from whence no salutary thing can come.¡±

    ¡°I thought we were already in the true east,¡± Antomine said skeptically.

    ¡°There is always a further east,¡± the ragged voice intoned.

    ¡°I certainly appreciate the respect,¡± Jonathan broke in, not having patience for endless cryptic meanderings after having his fill of that much earlier in life. ¡°Yet I feel there must be a deeper purpose for your welcome.¡± He also had no idea what this strange liminal expansion of the observation room was doing to the ship. Whether the entire ship was being stretched and contorted, and whether it would stay that way ¡ª and how that would impact the last stretch of flight.

    ¡°Impatience is not a virtue,¡± the bland voice replied. ¡°Yet, to the point then. Do you want to play a round?¡±

    Jonathan glanced down at the game board, the vast spread of the Dead Battle below them that was at the same time on the observation deck of the Endeavor. With eyes that had once seen sunlight he looked past the simple conflict, the outward form of which was just the barest glimpse and wholly misleading.

    Their Game, for it needed no name other than that, spread over time and distance, touching on that which must always and would never be. It was no petty thing, to rule over peoples and princedoms, but a long slow dream-drift into mysteries and histories; the kindling of secret fires and the fruits of forbidden trees. The Game was the grandmaster¡¯s execution of the Explorer Society¡¯s infantile fumbling, contending with forces vast and ancient. Each strategy reaching deep into the past and far into the future, each move made with intentions rendered esoteric and incomprehensible by the knowledge they required.

    His mind conjured a future from that alone; how, rendered imperishable by the sunlight in his soul, he could reach further into the world and wrest ever more fundamental secrets from forces and depths both physical and other. How he could shed dependence on the unenlightened, take whatever paths he wanted, when he wanted.

    All of it was a trap. It was not meant ill, but it was far too much. The greater the insight, the clearer the perspective, the fewer the choices. To take that knowledge, to immerse himself in those depths and swim those waters to be reborn anew with the terrible clarity of truth, would be to surrender himself to the power of knowing too much. All his actions would be rote, all his personal goals made irrelevant, and perhaps he would even find his pursuit of sunlight no longer worthwhile. Thus it could not be.

    ¡°I respectfully decline,¡± Jonathan said, despite the bleak temptations of a potent future unwinding before him. ¡°This is not meant for me.¡± At his elbow, Antomine let out a relieved sigh, faint but unmistakable. Clearly the inquisitor had some prior knowledge of the Players, perhaps even of their Game, and the potential Jonathan had seen was one the Illuminated King feared.

    ¡°Unusual,¡± the raw voice said. ¡°Most that come here, most that play a round, have already secured their own stakes ¨C your Illuminated King, or your She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed ¨C and so have a considered approach to it. You have not.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s not my Ukari,¡± Eleanor muttered, but quietly. Both Jonathan and the Players ignored it.

    ¡°I have my own interests, and while I respect what is being offered, those interests take me elsewhere. Beyond the Arch of Khokorron.¡± Jonathan spoke firmly, not quite fearing any sort of retribution from the Players, no matter what secrets they had behind them. Whatever motives they had were entirely orthogonal to either power or pique, and so had nothing to do with him.

    ¡°I¡¯d like to play,¡± Eleanor spoke up, hunger in her voice. ¡°I¡¯ll take his round.¡± She took a step forward past him, watching as Penelope reached out with a tentative paw and touched one of the pieces. Despite that step, she didn¡¯t seem to move any closer, as if the distance were not physical.

    ¡°You do not yet qualify,¡± the bland voice said. ¡°You are not yet yourself.¡±

    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    ¡°What the hell does that mean?¡± Eleanor asked, aggrieved, then watched in disbelief as Penelope very deliberately nudged one of the massive statues that were, at the same time, small figurines. There was a tiny shift that echoed down through interlocking perspectives and pieces of knowledge, a small realignment of what was known and what was thought. Jonathan blinked and looked away lest he understand too much and be trapped by it.

    Then Penelope sauntered away with the smugness only a cat could manage, leaping onto Antomine¡¯s chair to curl up where he had been sitting. Eleanor¡¯s face reddened from sheer force of pique, and she pointed at the cat.

    ¡°You won¡¯t give me a shot but she can go do God only knows what to your game?¡±

    ¡°Cats are cats,¡± the ragged voice said, as if it explained everything. Perhaps it did.

    ¡°Let it go, Eleanor,¡± Antomine said. ¡°You don¡¯t want this anyway.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t tell me what I want,¡± Eleanor snapped at him. ¡°I see the way you¡¯re looking at all this anyway. The Illuminated King doesn¡¯t want anyone getting this power.¡±

    ¡°There is no power to be had here,¡± Antomine said, unconvincingly.

    ¡°Eleanor,¡± Jonathan said, stirred to intervene before she exploded or, worse, tried to advance upon the Players by way of her own mysteries. ¡°I do not believe that you would accept the chains such things put upon you.¡±

    ¡°And why should I believe you?¡± She gave him a scornful look. ¡°You¡¯re only in it for yourself.¡±

    ¡°If nothing else, consider that I refused to take it. As you say, I¡¯m in this for myself, and while the offer is tempting, the price is too high.¡± Expressing the vast abyss of time and potential their Game represented was dangerous to even contemplate; simply by speaking it too well risked understanding more than he wished.

    ¡°Huh.¡± Eleanor scowled at him, stared at the two figures ¨C which were no clearer than before ¨C and then whirled about and stalked toward the exit. She passed Penelope with a muttered oath, but let the cat lie.

    ¡°This is not an offer that will be given again,¡± the bland voice observed. ¡°Rejecting my master¡¯s favor means that you will have to arrive here the hard way.¡±

    ¡°I understand,¡± Jonathan said. Antomine kept silent, grasping the inquisitor¡¯s medallion hanging about his neck. With no further words, either of admonishment or warning, the perspective broke. The Dead Battle remained below, the observation deck was no larger than it had been, and Jonathan and Antomine merely stood on the carpet looking outward.

    ¡°What did the Illuminated King tell you about them?¡± Jonathan asked, before Antomine could turn away. The nature of the pair was obvious, as was their role and purpose, simply from the offer they had made and how they had made it. Rejecting their temptation had ended the matter, yet he was not fully satisfied that they would remain uninvolved.

    ¡°That none who played their Game could be allowed into human lands,¡± Antomine said, completely ignoring the hypocrisy. ¡°They are a signpost at the line that divides that which is human and that which is not. Not the only one, of course, but the Illuminated King judged you were likely to draw their interest.¡±

    That gave Jonathan pause, if only briefly. He had never been comfortable with the attention he¡¯d been given by the Illuminated King, and to think that this encounter had been predicted ¨C had been something Antomine was waiting for ¨C disconcerted him. Admittedly it took no great foresight, knowing that Jonathan¡¯s path took him to the Arch of Khokorron and that was where the Players dwelt, but he would have preferred to know.

    ¡°Then it is fortunate I have no interest in their Game,¡± he said at length.

    ¡°What does interest you, Mister Heights? You turned down exactly what every explorer wants, and you don¡¯t strike me as someone who prefers to do things the hard way when he doesn¡¯t have to.¡± Antomine eyed him, though surely the question was rhetorical.

    ¡°Sunlight, and sunlight alone,¡± Jonathan said flatly. ¡°Without that, what temptation could there possibly be?¡±

    ¡°One wonders what you intend to do when we find it,¡± Antomine remarked.

    ¡°It is far too late to be asking that,¡± Jonathan said, and turned away. So late into the expedition, he didn¡¯t feel like dissembling or answering, let alone the vulgarity of an outright lie.

    The entire interlude had gone quite unnoticed by the crew and even by the maids, as unbelievable as that seemed. For those not attuned to esoteric phenomena the world was a much simpler place, though after even the smallest glimpse of the Players and their Game Jonathan knew he was barely more aware than the meanest airman aboard the Endeavor.

    He let Antomine relay the details, so the inquisitor could redact whatever particulars he wished. The knowledge of the Players and the Game was, more than most, dangerous to the uninitiated mind. Partly because it might allow the unready to see connections they should not, but also because they might draw the wrong conclusions. Men who thought their entire lives were controlled by enigmatic forces might become wildly erratic, even dangerous.

    ¡°So just to be certain,¡± Montgomery said, pipe stem in his mouth even if he had nothing left to smoke. ¡°These things aren¡¯t going to cause any more trouble?¡±

    ¡°I very much doubt it,¡± Antomine assured the captain. ¡°Not that there was much we could do if they were.¡± Jonathan doubted the latter statement. Mastery of certain mysteries could render a man immune to much, but not all. Never all.

    Considering the entire matter was moot, he didn¡¯t weigh in, merely looking over the maps while Antomine discussed the incident with Montgomery. The Dead Battle¡¯s shifting nature and the way it trampled down other landmarks rendered navigation somewhat uncertain, though it was its own sort of guide. He didn¡¯t fear going astray, but he did wish to be as direct as possible.

    His mind was eased when, only a few days later, the last statue of the Battle fell behind and the dull red burning-lights of the Arch of Khokorron ¨C massive red glass bulbs filled with a sourceless fire ¨C showed themselves ahead. It was not a mere hoop of metal, which one needed only pass under, but a monument wrought by forces not seen in the west. Jonathan wasn¡¯t entirely certain what obstacles it bypassed, but the desolate waste stretched far enough beyond it than none had taken another path.

    ¡°That¡¯s big,¡± Eleanor said, squinting out at what was visible though the observation window. It was mostly illuminated by its own mechanisms, great red slabs of fire behind glass, casting dim light over an agglomeration of metal. The Arch itself was miles tall and miles wide, and deeper than anyone had yet measured, with great pistons and gears churning and thumping their stentorian dignity. Metal doors that weighed more than cities stood, strong and proud.

    Within the Arch was a vast sea of writhing gears and burning-lamps, intermeshed metal and light, constantly shifting and changing in confounding convolutions. Within that chaos, patterns seemed to emerge, like froth on waves, symbols and patterns that implied one destination or another, but they vanished like the ephemera they were. It was unthinkable to enter that opening, as such a configuration would unmake the Endeavor entirely, but the passage could be temporarily tamed.

    ¡°That is an understatement,¡± Antomine said dryly. ¡°How are we to interact with such a thing at all?¡±

    ¡°There are quite a few points by which the Arch might be controlled,¡± Jonathan said. ¡°Though I hesitate to use the word. Instructed, perhaps. They will need me on the bridge.¡± He turned to leave, ignoring that the other passengers trailed after him curiously, even the maids. It was fair they would want to know what was planned.

    Montgomery greeted him with a grunt, arms folded, looking out at the mountain-sized structure. Even as distant as they were the rattle and thump of machinery sounded, faint thunder more felt than heard. Jonathan retrieved a notebook from inside his suit pocket and flipped through until he found the appropriate page, putting it down on the navigator¡¯s console.

    ¡°These drawings should guide you to the tether dock,¡± Jonathan said, as the man flipped through several pages of sketches. ¡°The machinery there is not in terribly good repair, so the party will have to be equipped with broomsticks or iron rods with the flowers I brought from Ukaresh attached. It makes traversing the area far safer ¡ª if your flower freezes, simply turn around and go another way.¡±

    ¡°There is a control mechanism there?¡± Antomine asked, stepping forward to peer over the navigator¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°There is,¡± Jonathan confirmed. ¡°One of many, but I have only seen diagrams of the others. I see no reason to attempt anything other than what worked last time.¡±

    ¡°Aye,¡± Montgomery agreed, frowning at the notebook, and then began issuing orders. They were still miles away, but the Endeavor corrected her heading, aiming for the left wall of the Arch. Even though the scale was obvious, it was driven further home as the Endeavor drew closer, the arch became larger, and still the forward spotlights didn¡¯t even glint off the metal. The navigator and the pilot consulted frequently as they drew nearer, examining the red-lit mass of machinery for the waypoints outlined in Jonathan¡¯s sketches.

    Finally the tether point became obvious, a long spar under a bulb of red glass long shattered, the fires within dead. The spotlights finally found something of substance, illuminating vast stretches of bare steel punctuated by contortions of spindle and wire, cog and gear. Some moved, and some did not, but it was not clear what had caused the damage in the first place ¡ª or if it was simply age.

    Regardless of cause, it was only a miniscule portion of a vast design, and provided an avenue for interlopers such as themselves to access the Arch¡¯s workings. Airmen went out to tie the Endeavor to the spar, which was wider than the ship and had many convenient protrusions of stalled machinery to which tethers could be affixed. Descending from the ship, they were struck by the smell of oil and a subtle heat which made several faces flush with fever, as the lingering effects of Angkor Leng made themselves known.

    That necessitated some minor shuffling of which crew went along, those most able to withstand the unnatural sickness that dwelt within. Jonathan waited while the crew discussed it, his lantern shining over an expanse of textured metal. Underfoot the spar vibrated with the motion of a vast piston only dimly visible in an intact burning-light below, one the size of Beacon¡¯s central tower and taking a full ten minutes to accomplish its reciprocation.

    ¡°Everyone have their poles and earplugs?¡± Jonathan held his own pole up by demonstration, just a rod of finger-thick steel with a flower tied to one end. There was a chorus of assent from those who had elected to come along ¡ª which included Montgomery for the first time. The captain had clearly let his curiosity overrule his common sense as he had put himself on the detail, leaving the bos¡¯n in charge. The brawny and wiry fellows ¨C whom Jonathan had become accustomed to seeing on such outings ¨C flanked the captain on either side, holding pistols in addition to their flower-rods.

    With the party ready, Jonathan stepped out along the spar, which was closer to a broad causeway despite the interruptions in the level surface from protruding equipment, little to none of which still functioned. Their lamps shone over metal both bright and dark, and occasional jagged pockets of broken glass, the edges still sharp. It was not a place fit for living beings, yet somehow vermin still managed to dwell within. Jonathan suspected they ate metal itself, perhaps drinking the oil that collected here and there in pools from broken pipes and conduits.

    Nothing accosted them on their trek across the spar, the length of a full city block, but Jonathan paused when he reached the point where it joined the Arch proper. A door proportioned for something thrice the size of a man stood both ajar and askew, bent and wedged permanently open. From within faint rustlings could be heard, as of many small forms in restless movement, and Jonathan held up his hand for a halt.

    ¡°Everyone stand aside and be ready,¡± Jonathan told them. ¡°There are some flying pests within, and while I doubt they will be particularly aggressive, they can be an issue for the unwary.¡± Seeing that the group was prepared, he thumped the door with his cane, the metal ringing like a distorted bell.

    With a sudden screeching and scratching, dark winged shapes issued forth from the dark opening. Most of them poured upward into the blackness of the sky, but some few ¨C either confused or maddened by the detachment¡¯s presence ¨C shot at the group. Blades flashed, and a pistol discharged with the characteristic zint. The corpses landed on the metal, winged rodent-things as long as a man¡¯s arm, but bearing certain disconcerting features.

    ¡°Are those gears?¡± Eleanor asked, bringing her lamp nearer to shine on a lumpen mass protruding from the side of one of the vermin.

    ¡°It seems so,¡± Jonathan said. ¡°I had seen some evidence last time but this is a more advanced infestation.¡± It was difficult to say whether the metal had grown from or into the creature, the small set of intermeshing cogs wrapped in sinew and twitching with the creature¡¯s final spasms.

    ¡°Good reason not to linger,¡± Antomine said, straightening from his own inspection.

    ¡°Indeed. Everyone keep your poles out, move slowly, and be alert. The interior is a bit of a maze, so don¡¯t get separated.¡± Jonathan doubted anyone would be so foolhardy, but he certainly wouldn¡¯t go looking for someone who lost themselves in the warren.

    He stepped through the door and hung a spare lantern high up on the wall, hooking it to some protruding coils to mark the exit, then moved aside for the rest to enter. Their destination was visible in the distance above them as an organ-like assemblage of pipes and pedals lit by another burning-light. Between them and their destination was a latticework shadow of catwalks and gantries, passages of grated metal threaded through frozen gears and seized pistons. The sound of working machinery still echoed through the cavernous space, but it was faint and far away.

    Jonathan extended his flower pole as he started forward. He had no real map for the space, as the dizzying mandala of suspended passages was far too complex to try and record ¡ª as well as being so interconnected that the greater worry was avoiding hazard, rather than navigation. The suspended metal trembled from the impact of many boots, a black abyss below them from which came the occasional gust of warm or chilled air, smelling of salt and stone. Those at the front and sides of their formation brandished the flower-bearing poles, mindful of invisible hazards and whatever other creatures might be lurking within the industrial galleries of the Arch.

    Their lanterns created a small pool of light around their feet, only occasionally throwing massive and distorted shadows on walls or mechanisms close enough to see. Jonathan followed the nearest expedient route, leading the party up a grated metal ramp in the direction of their destination. Their course paralleled a great rent in the crossing arcades, seemingly torn by something massive falling from above, circling around the damage to follow the intact pathways. He split his attention between the flower and his footing, with equal wishes not to walk into the invisible unflame and not to plummet through an unexpected hole in the catwalks.

    The first person to raise a shout was actually at the side of the party, and they all came to a ragged halt, seeing the crewman¡¯s flower turn to ice and begin to splinter. One of them splashed some bright paint well short of the edge of the effect, and the party took a wide berth around it. The second encounter came some time later as Antomine¡¯s flower crackled and froze, blocking off the entire walk and forcing them to backtrack. The man with the paint daubed it at every intersection, but Jonathan wasn¡¯t certain they¡¯d even return the same way.

    Another two levels passed by without anything untoward, the party tromping up oversized stairs and clambering across patches of inoperable equipment. At the base of a ramp to the next level a low growl came from the darkness which was not the product of any mechanism. One of the crewman turned a more powerful lamp that way, revealing the gleam of myriad close-set eyes, blinking in irregular and mesmerizing sequences. So powerful was the hypnotic effect that fully half the airmen began to walk toward it.

    Jonathan, Antomine, and Montgomery leapt to restrain them, while the remaining Lux Guard, along with the brawny and wiry pair of airmen, opened fire on the eyes. There was a truly horrific screech as something with metallic spines and myriad legs was revealed in the flashes of zint, and then it was gone, scuttling into the murk. The intervention was slightly too late for one of the airmen, who was pulled back, screaming, as his nose crystallized into bloody ice.

    ¡°You¡¯ll be alright, Molson,¡± Montgomery soothed him, one hand on his shoulder as another airman performed a brutally effective amputation of the affected appendage, to keep the slowly spreading ice from reaching the rest of the man¡¯s face. ¡°We¡¯ll get you an ivory one when we get back home.¡± He lowered his voice, leaning in closer. ¡°Or with all the gold we¡¯ve got, you can go to the Invidus Croft and get a new one.¡± That was clearly not meant for Antomine¡¯s ears, and if the inquisitor heard he gave no sign.

    Their climb resumed with more care after that, a half-dozen more flowers being sacrificed to the cause as they ascended the levels. Even as they neared the burning-light, the illumination never became anything more than gloomy. True darkness was almost preferable to the long, lingering shadows stretching out on every side. The creature never reappeared, but sounds of things moving out of sight and clambering among the machinery echoed to them, barely audible beneath the steady hiss and thump of the Arch¡¯s workings.

    Finally they reached the platform where the controls resided ¡ª though Jonathan imagined they had hardly been intended as such. It was, perhaps, a sort of relay, or maybe something even less grandiose, but had been repurposed in some distant past by explorers and the knowledge passed down through rumor and record. Montgomery directed his men to secure the platform under the sweltering glow of the burning-light, ensuring it was free of both pests and unseen hazards.

    ¡°Everyone might wish to get their earplugs ready,¡± Jonathan said, withdrawing a notebook from inside his suit and flipping it open to the proper page. He stepped up to the controls, a set of wheels and levers and pedals meant for a far larger frame than his. ¡°This will be loud.¡±

 Chapter Twenty-Five

    Jonathan put his hands to the oversized wheels of the control panel and heaved.  Despite all appearances, it was not a musical instrument nor even particularly complicated.  As the wheels moved, the lower section of the pipes shifted, metal squealing and groaning. A sudden howling of air issued forth from the device as gaps appeared between the pipes running from below and those vanishing into the darkness above.  Despite people covering their ears with cloth or hands even over their earplugs, they winced at the tearing, shrieking noise ¡ª though it was just sound, and nothing more terrible.

    The first wheel locked, and he moved on to the next one.  There were only a few arrangements that actually resulted in proper connections, though the manipulations didn¡¯t touch on the true mysteries of the place and merely opened the way.  The Arch would take its due when they crossed it.

    It took several minutes of laborious operation and some minor experimentation when his notes proved insufficient.  At length, however, the lower half of the pipes had been shifted into their new arrangement, and the vicious, howling screech abruptly stopped.  A series of thumps and groans echoed from above, and a heretofore stationary shaft running up into the darkness beyond the burning-light began to turn.  A rising growl of engaged machinery came from all about them, and things half-seen in the dull red light, beyond the bounds of the bright pool of zint, lurched into motion.

    Then it all stopped.

    Somewhere above them there came a keening wail, rising up beyond the frequencies of human hearing.  A shudder ran through the control platform, and Jonathan looked upward with a scowl.  Eleanor was the first to unplug her ears, looking around with deep skepticism.

    ¡°Is it supposed to do that?¡±  She asked, more bite than question.

    ¡°It is not,¡± Jonathan said, rising from the control panel.  ¡°Perhaps we damaged it last time we were here.¡±

    ¡°Then are we done here?  All that and it¡¯s just broken?¡±  Eleanor crossed her arms with a scowl.

    ¡°Of course not,¡± Jonathan said witheringly, as the rest of the group followed Eleanor¡¯s example and unstopped their ears.  ¡°I will investigate.  There must be something that can be done.¡±  He hooked his cane onto the crook of his arm and simply leapt up atop the console, wrapping his hands around the pipes and pulling himself upward.

    There were exclamations from below, but Jonathan ignored them as he ascended toward the noise.  His fingers gripped rugged metal as he paralleled the still-turning shaft, the lantern at his belt competing with the burning-light just above.  The glass-enclosed flame was set just off to one side, casting numerous and numinous shadows on the expanse of metal behind the turning shaft.

    The Arch of Khokorron had deep and strange knowledge built into every cog and flange, the burning-lights and their shadows revealing depths and details to the trained eye that no zint light would display.  Details Jonathan could no longer ignore, as he ascended high enough to reach the point of failure, eyes trembling and teeth clenched as he found where the control shaft connected to some larger, more elaborate apparatus.

    It was clear where the rotation stopped, but there was no apparent physical cause.  It was only in the more subtle dimensions, in the complexity revealed by the burning-light and his own sunlight-pure vision, that the failure became obvious.  Jonathan had only passing knowledge of machinery, but in this case it was a flaw in reality itself.

    Jonathan¡¯s expedition to the Arch was far from the first, and each group had been of their own race, with their own rules and their own esoteric knowledge.  Each visitation had altered the distances and dimensions, each operation had engaged the machinery with different and conflicting rules.  The drag and the weight of the secrets that the three of them bore ¨C Jonathan, Antomine, and Eleanor ¨C had finally been too much.

    The mechanism stood conceptually askew between what was and what should be, unable to complete its purpose as that purpose had been eroded.  Anyone without long experience delving through inhuman architectures would likely be entirely stymied, and even Jonathan had few options.  There were no devices he had prepared to address such an issue, nor could he leave.  He would not abide anything that impeded his path to sunlight.

    He clung to the pipes, watching the metal rotate, and focused all his esoteric understandings on what he saw.  Despite his eyes wishing to drift off in different directions, and his hands having difficulty gripping the pipes now that their true geometry was revealed, he considered the aspects and elements he saw.  The problem was, in the end, very simple: a gap needed to be bridged.  An anchor driven between what was intended and what the machine had become.

    As always, brute force could be surprisingly effective.  It took someone with the proper understanding to know where to apply it, but that was something Jonathan had spent his entire life acquiring.  He clung to the pipe with one hand, drawing his cane with the other and discarding the sheath, letting it slip into the darkness below.  Then he drew it back, hesitating only a moment.  The cane was special to him, but he could not let partiality influence his actions.  With one smooth and steady motion, he thrust it forward.

    Metal squealed as the blade punched through the rotating cylinder in an instant, plunging into the collar beyond, at angles that made his sinews creak in protest.  For a moment it hung in an impossible superposition of directions, then the machinery began to turn.  The blade followed the disjoint, seeming to shear in half as it was drawn into the untempered mysteries of the Arch¡¯s workings. For a moment Jonathan watched the cane sweep around, the blade distorted and disjointed in the way that water in a glass distorted a spoon.  It seemed to grow more and less whole as the angles changed, entrained in the endless meshing of gear on gear.

    Then he slid down, escaping the clangor and clamor as the Arch began moving in earnest, an echoing clash that spread through the far depths of the immense machine.  All eyes were on him as he landed back on the platform, but Jonathan ignored the stares as he scooped up the flower-pole he had dropped before gesturing for them to leave.  There was no sense trying to shout above the din.

    The way back down through the web of passages was much the same as the ascent, and even though the paint still marked things Jonathan made sure people continued to use their poles to probe the way.  The strange spots of instant freezing were hardly static, and indeed they had to redirect their path several times, rendering the painted guides useless.  The zint lantern hanging on the wall by the exit remained a constant, however, and by its guidance they found their way down the levels.

    On occasions the cold-spots were marked not by the dwindling supply of flowers or previously-applied paint, but by the crystallized corpses of flying-things, or even less identifiable creatures.  The sudden commencement of noise and motion had stirred them from whatever depths in which they lurked, but they had already long fled.  Just as well, as in the cacophony of noise, the sounds of any hostile beast would have been impossible to discern.

    By the time they reached the lantern, and could see the Endeavor¡¯s lights through the open door, the noise had settled into a steady thrum and a brisk wind came from above, smelling of rock and snow and ancient dust.  It hastened them out the door, onto the broad span.  The Endeavor and the long stretch of metal were both shielded by the wide-flung doors, but the patterns flung by the burning-lights within the arch shifted rapidly.  The sight was striking, but there was no greater meaning than the evolution of the Arch¡¯s passages ¡ª though that itself might well be esoteric knowledge for those alien to humanity.

    ¡°The way will be open now,¡± Jonathan informed them as they reached the tether line and unstopped their ears.  The din was still incredible, but outside it was mostly rendered as a low shaking felt through their feet and in the air.  ¡°It is perfectly safe; the only one at risk is myself.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll hold you to that,¡± Antomine said, giving Jonathan a sharp look.  It was, as ever, a toothless threat, and Jonathan ignored it as they all rode the ascent line back up to the Endeavor.  Montgomery returned to the bridge, while Jonathan went to his cabin.  The fruit was exactly where he left it, wrapped in paper in the secret compartment of his safe and pulsing with terrible life.  He stowed it in the pocket of his suit and joined the others on the observation deck as the ship swayed, the engines powering the Endeavor away from the span and around the miles-high doors.

    When the entrance of the Arch came into view the machinery had shifted, no longer working in impossible patterns but pulled back to reveal a long tunnel several miles in diameter, lined with burning-lights and extending endlessly beyond sight.  The wind picked up as the Endeavor turned and approached the entrance of the tunnel, pulling them along until suddenly they were inside.

    The strange red of the burning-lights washed over them and through them, and the machinery of the tunnel assembled itself into vistas never before seen ¡ª and perhaps that did not exist.  A slow creeping presence seeped in with the light, nothing like a person, but something cold and rigid and alien.  Jonathan reached into his pocket to withdraw the fruit, knowing what the others were experiencing ¡ª a strange sense of being familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, as the very moment of ignorance turning to knowledge was taken from them to pay the passage.  He didn¡¯t know why that particular toll was demanded, nor what was done with the proceeds, but it was one that couldn¡¯t be paid twice.  Thus he needed the fruit, or another toll that could only be paid once ¡ª that of a life.

    Yet the fruit was not there.

    He immediately leapt to a certain conclusion, and whirled to look for Eleanor.  A flash of her greatcoat showed her retreating to her room, and he leapt after her.  It was impossible to tell whether temptation had overwhelmed her, or pique, but it hardly mattered.  He slammed into the closing door to her room, tearing it off its hinges as he chased after her.

    Jonathan tore Eleanor from hiding, her form becoming visible as his fingers closed around her throat, slamming her against the wall.  Her own hand gripped the fruit, half-raised to her lips and her eyes glinting with greed and malice as she fought against him.  He seized her hand before she could close her teeth around her, her head straining forward to take a bite.  Jonathan pried it from her grip with grim brutality, Eleanor¡¯s fingers creaking as he forced them away from his prize.

    The sound of feet came from behind him as he pulled the fruit free, which he ignored because the red burning-light was collecting around him.  Hurriedly he bit down on the fruit, once, twice, and again, chewing and swallowing it with haste.  It tasted like nothing so much as dire fortitude, some monstrous vitality quivering on his tongue, and yet there was something even more.  The fruit was a life, full and entire, not merely some excess hardiness.

    As soon as it came, collecting in his gut with coiling preparedness, the red light took it away again.  Jonathan had no idea what the fruit would do to a human without the proper knowledge, as it was intrinsically part of the Garden¡¯s secrets, but its power and meaning were stolen by the Arch before they could be fully realized.  Only the taste of blood remained, staining Jonathan¡¯s lips and tongue.

    ¡°Mister Heights!  Let her down!¡±  Antomine¡¯s voice thundered and Jonathan realized he was still holding Eleanor by the throat, her nails clawing at his wrist.  He sneered at her and then let her drop, where she let out a choking, gasping wheeze.  Jonathan turned to Antomine, seeing both him and the pair of maids, the latter standing with their daggers drawn.

    ¡°Surely you are not going to suggest that retrieving what was mine ¨C something I needed to survive this trip ¨C was untoward?¡±  Jonathan raised his eyebrows at them.

    ¡°An extremity you brought upon yourself,¡± Antomine said severely.  ¡°Your protestations of innocence are hardly credible with blood upon your teeth.¡±  Jonathan frowned and retrieved his handkerchief from his pocket, wiping at his mouth and finding that it came away dark crimson.  He patted his lips and then folded the handkerchief, glancing down at a still-gasping Eleanor, trying to catch her breath.

    ¡°I care little about your judgements,¡± Jonathan said, tucking the stained handkerchief in his pocket.  ¡°You may attend to her; I will be needed on the bridge.¡±  He took a step forward, and Antomine didn¡¯t move.  Neither did Sarah or Marie, though neither of the maids looked at all confident.  ¡°Or do you intend to hold me here?¡±  He flexed his hands, instinctively reaching for a cane he no longer had.

    ¡°That depends,¡± Antomine said, producing a pistol.  ¡°Sarah, check her.¡±

    Jonathan looked on half in disbelief, half in bemusement as Sarah stepped forward to attend to Eleanor, giving Jonathan as wide a berth as she could in the cramped cabin.  Eleanor¡¯s wheezing breaths filled the air as Sarah helped her upright, performing a brief inspection before easing her over to her bed.  While she wasn¡¯t comfortable, she wasn¡¯t dying either; Jonathan had restrained himself out of respect for Eleanor¡¯s past help and whatever future aid she might be able to offer.  There was that, but there was at least one other element.

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    The part of him that regarded her as a friend had become increasingly faint as they went further east.  With sunlight drawing near, it became easier ¨C if not obligatory ¨C to shed some of what he¡¯d needed to be to return back to the west, back to Beacon, and prepare for his journey.  That didn¡¯t mean he needed to be monstrous. His goal was a thing of the light ¨C however different it was from the Illuminated King ¨C and not of the darkness favored by Ukari.

    All of which wouldn¡¯t stop him from utterly destroying Antomine if he tried to truly stand in Jonathan¡¯s way.  The inquisitor had been rather more skeptical since Ukaresh, but was constrained by what were surely orders to bring back the truth of sunlight.  More pragmatically, he was constrained by personal weakness, as he was a creature more of politics and zint ¡ª things which held little sway so far east.  Perhaps if Jonathan intended to return west, Antomine would have more authority.

    ¡°I,¡± Eleanor said, wheezing the word.  ¡°Am.  Fine.¡±  It was clearly a lie, but if she could still talk he clearly hadn¡¯t crushed her throat too badly.  Antomine lowered the pistol and Jonathan brushed past him and Marie.  He made a brief stop in the head to ensure that he didn¡¯t still have any blood on his lips or teeth before heading downward, leaving the drama behind him.  There would surely be further repercussions, but that could wait for its own time.

    He swept down one flight and headed to the bridge, the ever-shifting gears and panels and burning-lights of the Arch¡¯s passage visible through the portholes.  Montgomery beckoned him inside, looking pensive and surveying the mechanical surroundings stretching in every direction.  The Endeavor was clearly moving faster than even the engines could push it, with enormous baffles opening and closing ahead of them to alter their path of travel.

    ¡°I can¡¯t say I enjoyed that experience,¡± Montgomery said, hands clasped behind his back.  ¡°Nor am I comfortable with being so enclosed.  Tell me, Mister Heights, how long is this expected to last for.¡±

    ¡°In truth, not much longer,¡± Jonathan said.  ¡°It is a rapid transit.¡±

    ¡°Odd that it¡¯s designed for airships,¡± Montgomery said.  ¡°Instead of foot traffic.  Not everyone flies.¡±

    ¡°I suspect that if we were to approach on foot, we would find it accommodated that,¡± Jonathan admitted.  ¡°The operation I performed merely nudged it to have the correct destination.  The rest of this is of its own initiative.¡±

    ¡°Pretty sure I like that less,¡± Montgomery sighed, then reached out to pat the nearest console.  ¡°Though I¡¯m hardly going to speak ill of machines.¡±

    ¡°There should be a place to resupply once we reach the other side,¡± Jonathan said.  ¡°A small vein of terrestrite we found on our first expedition.  Foodstuffs will require more effort, but there should be more than enough fish in the lakes there.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a bit worried about the return journey, considering what happened with Ukaresh,¡± Montgomery admitted.  ¡°I¡¯d thought we¡¯d have more foreign ports available.¡±

    ¡°Going west is far different,¡± Jonathan assured him.  Without the ontological effort of traveling east, supplies stretched further, navigation was simpler, and the very paths of travel were different.  ¡°There, see?  We are nearly out already.¡±  He pointed to the walls, where black panels began replacing the metal ones, and the fantastical landscapes rendered in relief faded away.

    The black panels multiplied, spreading out and around them until at last there was only black metal with a few lonely burning-lights.  Spotlights suddenly shone on ground instead of metal as the Endeavor emerged from the other end of the Arch of Khokorron ¡ª or at least, one of the other ends.  The aperture was far smaller than the incredible monument they had entered, set into a sloping hill at the far end of a vast barren desert.

    Ahead was a spread of lonely blue points, winking in the blackness.  Each one was a great glowing flower, illuminating one of innumerable spheres of water that bubbled upward from the ground: lakes with boundaries of air rather than earth.  It was, withal, a far more hospitable place than whence they had come, if one that conformed even less to logic and reason.

    ¡°Lofted Lakes,¡± Montgomery said, glancing at the name on the map.  ¡°Even though you told me what to expect, it¡¯s strange to see.  I assume the zint is on the surface?¡±

    ¡°Aye,¡± Jonathan confirmed.  ¡°It¡¯s safer to navigate below them, regardless.  Above is unlikely and between can be hazardous.¡±

    Montgomery nodded and began giving orders, and the Endeavor swung onto a new heading.  Their path mostly skirted around the edge of the Lakes, heading north and east, but to resupply they would have to venture into the shallows.  Which was just as well, since they needed to refresh not only their zint, but their food and water as well.  Dark shapes swam within the enormous teardrops of the lakes, here and there breaching the surface to launch themselves from one body to another.

    The Endeavor¡¯s lights played over huge, leafy trunks buried into the ground as they drew closer, roots holding tight to the ground against the upward pull of the lakes, or the flowers, or whatever particular element gave the region its distinctive features.  The sorrowful blue that stood at the heart of each of the lakes only cast a wan light, illuminating almost nothing but itself ¡ª though that made finding the zint easier, as it was the only source of light coming from below.

    Jonathan stayed on the bridge, hands left to clasp together behind his back without his cane to lean on.  He stood at attention, watching the Endeavor navigate around the trunks and illuminate a thick carpet of lichens and mushrooms growing in the damp below the lakes.  While his presence wasn¡¯t strictly necessary, the bridge was preferable to the passenger deck at the current moment.

    The zint vein came into view, obvious not only by its glow but by the lack of any covering vegetation.  Nothing grew on luminiferous terrestrite.  It was a particularly ominous quality in some ways, though a reminder that it kept out the dark.

    ¡°I no longer have anything to particularly ward off the weather or wildlife,¡± Jonathan informed Montgomery.  ¡°We will have to be extremely careful venturing outside in these climes.¡±

    ¡°Aye, we¡¯ll be cautious,¡± Montgomery said impatiently, and then started giving orders to tether.  In deference to Jonathan¡¯s warning, he had the area swept with artillery first, just to ensure there was nothing hiding in the fungal snarl around the glowing strand on the ground below.  Bright flashes of zint reduced mushroom stalks and patches of creeping mold to luminous ash, and sent dark shapes scurrying away in a panic.

    A crewman went to the fore chase gun, focused below as airmen with flightsuits descended to drive tethers into bare rock.  Drops of water pattered down here and there, like inconstant rain, from the vast dark shapes above; more than one airman looked upward nervously, as if afraid the suspended water would collapse upon them all at once.  Jonathan half-expected a comment from Eleanor, but she still hadn¡¯t appeared from above.

    He pursed his lips at the thought, then shook it off and went below, to the cargo deck where the descent line was being rigged.  Lacking his cane, he borrowed a pike from the ship¡¯s armory; such a device was like to be more useful against the sorts of beasts that might find their encampment interesting.  He hadn¡¯t handled one since he was a much younger man, on one of his father¡¯s expeditions to the south, but the weapon was simple enough.

    The air outside was cool and smelled of fresh water and wet stone.  The lakes made an odd, low rushing noise, completely unlike waves on a shore and yet still distinctly liquid.  Under the glare of the spotlights, the place had little to recommend it; with the surrounding growth erased by the Endeavor¡¯s cannons, it was little more than a stretch of rock.  Once they had retrieved sufficient zint, they would have to ascend to one of the lake boundaries to supply with food and water.

    Jonathan expected merely to stand guard and stretch his legs, but as the portable distillery was being lowered, Antomine approached him with Lux Guard in tow.  Jonathan favored the inquisitor with a dark look, loosely holding the pike as he kept half an eye on the area illuminated by the Endeavor¡¯s spotlights.  Most of the dangers were held in the lakes above, but there were always beasts lurking in the dark.

    ¡°Eleanor¡¯s story of what happened was quite interesting,¡± Antomine said, by way of an opening gambit.

    ¡°No doubt,¡± Jonathan replied, already irritated by the inquisitor¡¯s manner.  ¡°It was fairly simple, so there couldn¡¯t have been too much of a story.¡±

    ¡°Events are often simple, but motivations almost never are.¡±  The young man unfolded a small camp chair he¡¯d been carrying under one arm, sitting down on it to show that it was just a casual talk.  Jonathan wasn¡¯t sure how effective the technique actually was; he certainly had no illusions about his relationship with the inquisitor.  The Lux Guard, in contrast, stood at attention facing outward, holding its rifle.

    ¡°I confess I am not terribly interested in Eleanor¡¯s motivation for stealing the one thing I needed at that very moment,¡± Jonathan told him, tapping a finger impatiently on the pike handle.  ¡°The consequences are what matter, and they could have been dire.¡±

    ¡°Indeed.  While I still do not like being kept in ignorance regarding the Arch¡¯s price, I cannot argue the necessity.¡±  Antomine waved it away.  ¡°No, I am more interested in your motivations, Mister Heights.  I would say you were more than capable of killing Eleanor in that moment, but you did not.  Despite already showing you are more than willing to remove anyone who inconveniences you.¡±

    ¡°No doubt you consider me some sort of monster,¡± Jonathan said.  It was clear what Antomine wanted: some sort of handle on Jonathan¡¯s behavior.  A method of approach, whether to understand or to manipulate.  ¡°But regardless of what you think, I am not some barely-restrained thug.  As you pointed out on the ship, Eleanor is not entirely responsible for her own actions.  I did what was required, as she was not amenable to more gentle methods of persuasion.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t even try,¡± Antomine objected.  Jonathan snorted.

    ¡°In that moment, with the actions she had taken, do you think mere words would have made a difference?  A half-second more and both of us might be dead ¡ª or you might have something far worse on your hands.¡±  He didn¡¯t point out that Eleanor still knew how to make the fruits, and if the temptation was truly too great she would succumb eventually.

    ¡°That¡¯s an awful lot of calculation for what looked to be an act of passion,¡± Antomine said, lacing his fingers together over his chest.  He didn¡¯t look at Jonathan, instead casting his gaze beyond to the boundaries of the Endeavor¡¯s lights.  ¡°I suppose I should commend your control.  If it is your control.¡±

    ¡°I am entirely my own person,¡± Jonathan said testily, though he was more tempted to simply not respond to Antomine¡¯s oblique question.  ¡°If I have control over my emotions rather than acting on impulse, I would think that is something to be commended.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a surprisingly rare circumstance,¡± Antomine murmured.  ¡°As we have gotten further east I believe you have become more erratic.  It is a worry, you see.  While the Illuminated King certainly seems to think there is something to your tales of sunlight, and he would know, that faith becomes moot if you lead us into something we cannot handle.¡±

    Antomine seemed to be worried that Jonathan was intending to purposely sacrifice the Endeavor, and those aboard her, in his quest.  Perhaps it was a fair concern, for an inquisitor.  Most people wouldn¡¯t entertain the idea of a betrayal of that magnitude, but cultists and fanatics that found the wrong sort of esoteric knowledge had no issue with sacrificing entire cities.  Jonathan wasn¡¯t certain if he should be insulted or flattered by the thought.

    ¡°I have no desire to run the Endeavor aground on the same rocks that the last expedition did,¡± Jonathan told Antomine, shifting the pike from one hand to the other.  ¡°If we come to grief it will be in spite of my preparations, not because of them.  At the same time, the places we must go are not safe, and in many ways.  What happened with Eleanor was an unforeseen consequence, and as I am not omniscient there may be more of those.  But not too many.¡±  He smiled briefly, though there was little humor in it.  ¡°We are nearly to our destination.¡±

    ¡°Yes, so you say.¡±  Antomine paused as a soft rustle came from somewhere at the edge of the pool of light, but nothing came of it.  ¡°If I am reading your maps right, we will follow the Grave of Wood to Bright Defile.  It does worry me that the dangers of these places have not yet been enumerated.¡±

    ¡°What good would it do?¡±  Jonathan asked, only half rhetorically.  ¡°To let people dwell on such things would only cause trouble.  There are no preparations we can make beyond normal care and caution.¡±  He pressed his lips together, then spoke reluctantly.  ¡°The Grave of Wood was where my last expedition did meet its end, but only because they succumbed to greed.  It is guarded, but only against those who might disturb those interred.  So long as we simply pass it by we are in no danger.  And the Bright Defile is where sunlight may be found.  The details of that even I cannot say.¡±

    ¡°Greed might be a problem ¡ª for Eleanor, if nobody else,¡± Antomine said pensively.  ¡°She is not in good control of herself.  As you have seen.¡±

    Jonthan started to reply, then thought better of it.  Antomine eyed him, then drew the correct conclusion from his actions and twisted around to spot Eleanor and the maids heading toward them.  It wasn¡¯t clear why; the three passengers weren¡¯t exactly on the best terms and there was nothing particularly special about the part of the perimeter Jonathan had staked out.  Though perhaps it was simply that they were passengers.  In the end, that alone held them separate from the crew.

    ¡°Floating lakes may be interesting, but I¡¯m awful tired of all this stuff,¡± Eleanor said, unfolding her own chair and dropping into it with a groan.  ¡°Too many things that just don¡¯t make sense or hurt to look at.  And explorers do this all the time?¡±

    She conspicuously didn¡¯t mention the incident just past, a wordless offer that Jonathan accepted.  Eleanor had very obvious makeup on her throat to cover the bruising, and her voice was a little hoarse, but she seemed determined to ignore it.  Sarah and Marie seemed less forgiving, their looks noticeably chilly.  In truth he was surprised that the three women were actually getting along; he would have thought there¡¯d be more friction between Eleanor and the ones sent to make sure she behaved.

    ¡°It is less condensed than we have experienced.  Most of the time we would stop at a destination and spend weeks or months puzzling it out,¡± Jonathan told her, watching shadows move at the edge of the spotlights.  ¡°This breakneck pace is the result of a significant amount of research and preparation.  There were any number of things to be found at each place we stopped, but that was not our goal.¡±

    ¡°I know, I know, sunlight,¡± Eleanor said derisively.  ¡°Kinda getting tired of that.¡±

    ¡°There is not much more to go,¡± Jonathan said.  ¡°We will reach our destination soon enough, and then you can look forward to the trip home.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± Eleanor said dryly.  ¡°I¡¯m not sure that¡¯s the phrase I¡¯d use, but better than going further east.  What is further east of here, anyway?¡±  She waved her hand around indicating the lakes, or perhaps just the general environs.

    ¡°I have no idea,¡± Jonathan said honestly.  ¡°This is as far as my maps go.  Bright Defile was a chance discovery, and so far as I can tell few humans have ever gone through the Arch of Khokorron.  The east is not kind to humans, and many explorers prefer the south ¡ª or even the north.¡±

    ¡°Which aren¡¯t much better,¡± Antomine said conversationally.  ¡°Though so far we have found nothing more fearsome than the Cult of Flame and the Invidius Croft ¡ª threat enough, but manageable.¡±

    ¡°If I ever go out of Beacon again, remind me not to go north,¡± Eleanor muttered.  ¡°The Croft gives me the creeps.  At least the Flame Cult guys seemed nice enough.¡±

    ¡°Only because they needed our help.  Do not mistake desperation for anything approaching acceptable behavior,¡± Antomine admonished.

    ¡°Every time you bring up something like that, it makes me more surprised you came along at all,¡± Eleanor said, pointing at him.  ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯ve approved of a single thing since we left Danby¡¯s.¡±

    ¡°I have a certain duty,¡± Antomine said, unperturbed by the accusation.  ¡°If anything, it is all the more important that I am here to safeguard the men and women of the Endeavor than be comfortable back in Beacon.  After all, where is the guardian most needed: deep within the locked keep, or at the gates?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d say we¡¯re well beyond the gates at this point,¡± Eleanor said.  Antomine chuckled.

    ¡°With that, I have to agree.¡±

 Chapter Twenty-Six

    Nothing interrupted the work of the portable zint distillery. There were odd noises from the dark, and the ever-present liquid sounds of the lakes above, but no creature breached the circle of the Endeavor¡¯s spotlights. Jonathan almost regretted that, for he would have welcomed a brief spate of exertion, but it was better for everyone else that the refueling was performed without issue.

    Antomine took more samples of raw zint, likely in another fruitless attempt to repair his broken Lux Guard, and disappeared into the ship. Jonathan preferred that to trying to make stilted conversation, and preferred to stand quiet vigil while the ship prepared for the final stretch ¡ª and the journey home. He was more than ready to leave, but found the moment of pause a useful respite, a deep breath before forging ahead.

    Once they had finished refueling, the ship ascended until the boundary of one of the floating lakes came into view, where they tethered to one of the flower-trunks while they took on water and nearly half the crew went fishing. Admittedly, several of the rods were long iron poles as thick as a thumb, and the lines consisted of spare tether cord. Many of the shadows that could be spotted in the depths were quite large, after all.

    It was, perhaps, a bit of a risk, but running out of supplies was a far more pressing problem. The cook even picked through various leaves, weeds, and pods dredged from within the water by early casts in order to find something edible. There were diseases that could strike an airship with limited supplies, and while they had thus far avoided them, there was no sense risking it at this juncture.

    Jonathan leaned against the rail on the above-deck platform, watching the hose pull water into the zint-light purifier while several men monitored rods that had been hastily bolted to the deck. Already several man-sized fish had been hauled from the water and dispatched with zint rifles, and half the above-deck was given over to butchering and disassembling the catches. The stench of it had driven Antomine and the women back below, but it didn¡¯t really bother Jonathan. He¡¯d dealt with it before, as no ship could carry all the food it needed for an extended voyage.

    All of the peaceful, useful toil actually made him uncomfortable. The east was not supposed to be pleasant or helpful; men were of the west and to find safety and succor was ill-omened. Of course it was nothing so blatant as Terminus, and there were still minor issues. A fish broke a line and sent the airmen at the pole flying across the deck, bruised and battered. One of the large fish had parasites that broke out while it was being gutted, and had to be beaten to death by the airmen helping the ship¡¯s cook. Minor incidents such as that were only to be expected, however, and barely seemed worth noting.

    In all, he was glad when they had refilled their larders and the engines started them moving once again. There was nothing he could point to but an impending sense of trouble, but to Jonathan that instinct was reason enough to move on. They edged back out of the shallows of the Lofted Lakes, skirting the border of the area toward the north.

    Here and there rivers ran below them, in complete opposition to the vertical nature of the lakes themselves, but someone else would have to solve that particular mystery. Once, he might have spent the time to investigate and catalogue the wonders of such a landmark, as well as the potential dangers for any future visitors. Though so far east, it was unlike there would be many of those from Beacon, and he would have been better off selling such information in Ukaresh. A consideration for Eleanor or Montgomery, perhaps, but he no longer had any interest.

    The Endeavor circled north and then swept eastward, ever eastward, navigating the final map. Unlike the others, which had been fleshed out by generations of explorers, both human and not, that one had been penned solely by Jonathan. Not that there was much to it, as in truth his last ship, the Discovery, had not covered much ground before coming to grief in the Grave of Wood.

    Only he, Captain Hardiman, and Stoneface had managed to make it to the Bright Defile. Only he had survived to leave. Only he had returned, ready to cross the final threshold.

    Jonathan stood in the observation room as they left the Lofted Lakes behind, flying out over a sodden and swampy plain shot through with faintly luminous mycelium. Thin yellow-green threads lay haphazardly over the ground like spilled yarn, pulsing in a slow and deliberate pattern. Forms of odd beasts ¨C or perhaps even people ¨C skittered away from the Endeavor¡¯s spotlights, but their shadows were visible tending to the fungal line. The Discovery hadn''t been equipped for a proper investigation at the time, being mostly concerned with surveying the new lands beyond the Arch, so he had no idea of their true nature.

    Wind buffeted the ship, increasing over the next few days as they crossed the swamp toward the Grave of Wood. As the deck began to sway and pitch beneath their feet, Montgomery gave the order to keep everything battened down and secured. There was nowhere obvious they could tether to shelter from the conditions, not until they reached the Grave of Wood, and simple wind wasn¡¯t threatening enough for that regardless.

    Yet with a strange sense of inevitability the cruel crosswinds rose and gusted and came together into a true storm, which bore only a marginal resemblance to its cousins in the west. Threads of lightning shot through boiling clouds rising up behind them, wisping together to form crackling spheres darting this way and that, accompanied by a growl of thunder that sounded more like the howl of the damned than a natural phenomenon. Light began to waft up from the network of filaments below, rising to color the pursuing clouds, and Jonathan descended to the bridge.

    ¡°Mister Heights,¡± Montgomery greeted him, gesturing backward at the growing spectacle behind them. ¡°How worried should we be?¡±

    ¡°I admit I haven¡¯t seen this before,¡± Jonathan said, regarding the same scene. ¡°But it can hardly be less dangerous than one of our own storms. The special protections from Angkor Leng may help, but wind is wind.¡±

    ¡°Haven¡¯t spotted any shelter,¡± Montgomery grunted. ¡°Have to see how much we can outrun it.¡± He started passing orders, and the engines surged as they were run up past their usual maximum. Jonathan gripped a holdfast, one hand automatically reaching for a cane that wasn¡¯t there before he simply widened his stance.

    The yellow-green light continued to be sucked up into the growing clouds, limning them with an unhealthy radiance and showing the scope of the tempest. The bridge rattled with the force of the engines, minor repairs and replacements that didn¡¯t quite fit correctly shaking and showing gaps in the forward windows, on consoles, in the mirrors used to view behind the Endeavor.

    Montgomery grimaced. Jonathan hadn¡¯t been involved in the inevitable maintenance, and he had no idea of the story behind some of the repairs, but clearly their time in the east had been more wearing on the ship than he had thought. If the seams were showing in the bridge, the same would be true throughout the ship. But the captain didn¡¯t order any reduction in speed, as the clouds behind them grew ever larger and a pair of dark, lightning-shot funnels reached toward the ground.

    They never reached. In a peculiarity of the east, the questing funnels instead found each other, merging into a single, long bar of illuminated wind, churning and growing as it seemed to pull the entire storm into it. In a matter of minutes the clouds had become an enormous rolling cylinder, growling and howling and ripping at the ground beneath it.

    Lightning and stolen fungal threads roiled through the phenomenon, and sparks flew as rocks ground against each other in the wind. In an instant it transitioned from a maelstrom of wind and rain to one of stone and light, chasing them with scouring debris and balls of lightning like the shots of a cannon. Perhaps it was simply a mindless thing, one of the many hazards of the lands far from Beacon, but to Jonathan it seemed to hold an almost personal ire toward the Endeavor.

    ¡°Anything you can do about that, Mister Heights?¡± Montgomery asked, only half serious.

    ¡°The only thing I have left is an amphora of unflame ¡ª and I don¡¯t think there¡¯s anything there to burn, hot or cold.¡± Jonathan considered the rolling cylinder that kept growing, stretching wider and wider behind them. ¡°It could even make it worse. I believe we¡¯re relying on you for this one, captain. If we can make it to the Grave of Wood we could tether there.¡±

    Montgomery snorted and then returned his gaze to the landscape ahead of them. The flashes from the balls of lightning, which on occasion collided in brilliant destruction, gave a far further view than even the most powerful spotlights, but Jonathan wasn¡¯t certain how to read the brief glimpses. While his eyes might have been better than most, that didn¡¯t mean he knew what to look for. Most of his time in the area had been spent on the ground, which was a far different prospect than looking for a place safe from such a terrible storm.

    ¡°There,¡± Montgomery said after the next flash, pointing at something in the far distance.

    ¡°Right,¡± said the pilot, who had apparently seen the same thing. He worked the controls and the ship tilted, creaking and groaning as the engines and fins pushed them onto a new heading.

    Jonathan¡¯s presence on the bridge was entirely superfluous, but he stayed for the unlikely possibility his expertise was needed. The crew were tense, with the howl of wind filling in the silences between words, the only real sound being that of the pilot making rapid adjustments to the vanes and engines. It wasn¡¯t clear to Jonathan what difference any of it made, but he trusted the pilot knew what he was doing.

    Once or twice a runner arrived, bearing news of some issue or another as the buffeting and jolting stressed the Endeavor¡¯s bones. It sounded like fully half the crew was on repair duty, but they could hardly slow down. Even if the rolling cylinder of destruction hadn¡¯t gained on them, it had only gotten larger, stretching miles in every direction.

    An explosive clap of thunder sounded from behind, followed by a pattering as of rain on the skin of the ship. Then it was joined by louder metallic clangs, and Jonathan caught a glimpse of several pieces of rock off the port side, falling through the beams of the Endeavor¡¯s lights. Somewhere far below them there was a larger, louder report as the main body of the bolide impacted the ground.

    ¡°Is that throwing things at us?¡± Eleanor¡¯s voice came from the bridge entrance. She gripped a holdfast with one hand, the other one holding her cloche hat in place as the ship bumped and swayed.

    ¡°I doubt it¡¯s at us specifically,¡± Jonathan responded, waving at the bridge windows. ¡°I¡¯ve seen other chunks of rock go flying ¡ª but none of the large ones have been this high. Small favors.¡±

    ¡°Very small,¡± Eleanor said dryly, wincing as another explosion of ball lightning sent a staccato flash and hammerblow of thunder through the bridge. In the light cast by that brief fulmination Jonathan could finally see what Montgomery had spotted earlier ¡ª the arrayed headstones of the Grave of Wood, resolving themselves from the distant landscape.

    At this distance they seemed frail things to block the enormous sideways cyclone that battered and crushed the landscape behind them, but if they were actually fragile they would have been gone long ago. Like everything else to be found in the dark, that which remained was protected or guarded. Even humanity¡¯s cities and rails were only kept intact by dint of constant and sustained effort.

    ¡°Anything else we should know before we try and take shelter there, Mister Heights?¡± Montgomery asked pointedly, as the engines drove the Endeavor toward the proud and solemn cemetery that stretched before them.

    ¡°Only that we cannot take anything from the Grave. I would imagine not even the wood itself, though I hardly had the chance to test such a speculation. Simply tethering there is safe ¡ª so far as I know, at least.¡± He could give no certain guarantees, as the rules of places were often puzzled out with great and laborious effort and cost. Jonathan¡¯s visit had been brief and harried.

    ¡°Right,¡± Montgomery drawled, clearly less than pleased by the reply, and returned his attention to the forward view. The storm nipped at their heels, the blowing gale helping them stay ahead of the vortex itself, but at the cost of shaking the entire vessel. The Grave of Wood grew closer, the looming shapes resolving themselves into enormous, carven biers, the crystalline figures atop distinctly bodies but with faces shrouded in cloth to obscure their features. There was no time to properly appreciate the sight as Montgomery stood behind the pilot, issuing a running litany of orders as the Endeavor began to drop altitude. The bos¡¯n shouted orders into the speaking-tube, his voice booming over the roar of the wind and the creaking of the Endeavor¡¯s frame.

    One of the panes of glass at the side of the bridge abruptly crazed and cracked, the twisting too much to take, prompting one of the crew to run over with a cloth to push the broken glass out before the wind could send it whipping onto the bridge. The smell of salt rushed through with the outside air, as they came in among the enormous biers, along with the earthy scent of wood. But it was all dead and dry smells, lacking the touch of anything living.

    The pilot swung the ship, the entire vessel rolling more sharply than Jonathan would have believed possible. Engines labored as it cut crosswise to the gale and powered into the lee of one of the biers, which was more than tall and wide enough to shelter the ship. The pounding growl of the storm was abruptly muffled, and several brave airmen jumped down with tethers, using zint devices to embed them into the rocky ground by the base of the grave. Behind the wooden wall, the sound of the ravenous cyclone grew closer, and airmen hurried outside to throw cloth tarps and metal shutters over what they could.

    Before the storm could actually reach them, there was a slow sliding noise and the impression of some great shadow passing over them. In the light of the storm they could see a massive sinuous silhouette, rearing up over the graves like some great snake. It struck with blinding quickness, out beyond the graves and into the storm.

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    Groaning and howling turned to screaming as the wind shrieked. A strange shadow-play cast itself on the next bier from the silhouette of the snake and the light of the storm, the crew watching in horrified fascination as the guardian coiled itself around the storm as if it were solid. Even Jonathan was not expecting the immense titan to simply consume the lightning-shot storm, the luminous threads vanishing into the obscured darkness of the snake¡¯s gullet. The sound of the wind and storm and pattering debris died over the next few minutes as the snake swallowed the cylinder whole and returned to the graves. For a moment seemed to look at them, then it vanished into the darkness among the biers.

    ¡°I take it that¡¯s the reason that we need to be careful?¡± Eleanor asked, staring out into the blackness beyond the Endeavor¡¯s lights.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Jonathan confirmed. ¡°I did not get a good look at it last time, but this place is guarded. Though from what I have seen, it only reacts to disrespect toward the dead.¡±

    ¡°Are those actual bodies then?¡± Montgomery broke from his running conversation with his crew to hike a thumb at the wooden monument that sheltered them. ¡°Or just tombs?¡±

    ¡°I think both,¡± Jonathan said. They seemed of the appropriate size for the construction of the Arch of Khokorron, though clearly not related to the builders of Tor Ilek and Angkhor Leng. It was difficult to piece together the history of such ancient civilizations when only a few isolated pieces remained. ¡°Regardless, we won¡¯t be investigating them.¡±

    ¡°Not after seeing that,¡± Montgomery agreed, and resumed giving orders. The Endeavor itself was listing slightly, betraying damage to the envelope from the headlong flight. It would take more than minor damage to take the Endeavor out of the air, but there was no telling what sort of subtle failures lurked in the machinery of the ship.

    ¡°Captain, the Discovery is only slightly deeper in, if you think there might be useful supplies aboard,¡± Jonathan suggested. ¡°I know it was fairly stocked when we left it.¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± Montgomery said doubtfully. ¡°But not after what, three years? And with all this salt about, I don¡¯t know how much is going to be any good. Better to leave that to the last.¡±

    ¡°Very well,¡± Jonathan said, though his fingers twitched with the desire to continue onward. There was nothing visible, but he could almost feel the sunlight, so close now. He contained himself, asserting control over his own impulses, and turned away from the forward windows. Penelope trotted past, giving him a haughty look, then sniffed at the air coming through the broken glass and sneezed.

    ¡°Well, at least it¡¯s not too bad out there,¡± Montgomery said, and Jonathan nodded.

    ¡°The last of the trek we will have to make on foot,¡± he said. ¡°The actual terrain is unremarkable. It is the entrance to Bright Defile, and sunlight itself, that is special.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll believe it when I see it,¡± Montgomery said, clearly more worried about the damage to the Endeavor. Jonathan forgave the captain for his skepticism; after such a journey, it was likely difficult to believe that the destination was really worth it.

    Jonathan left the captain to his business and went to his cabin. Over the course of the trip all the crates had been opened, and no fair few had their contents removed. His esoterica was spent, the spices and snacks he¡¯d packed all consumed. Most of what remained were his books and notes, over half of which he¡¯d removed at one point or another for consultation. They were packed back more loosely, sprawling into containers that had been emptied of their contents.

    He went through his effects with deliberation, though in the end there was nothing he could bring to aid him on the final leg. There were no tools, no tricks, no references or records from those who had gone before. At last, the Endeavor had reached the edge of the map, where none before had returned. Save him.

    Which was not to say he had made no preparations at all. The last time he had seen sunlight, he could go no further because he had neither the understanding nor the will. He hadn¡¯t earned it. He had been too concerned with himself, with his place in the world, with what he could be gained or lost.

    This second journey had been spent clarifying his mind, honing himself to the singular purpose of stepping into sunlight. He had deliberately discarded his prior concerns, shedding them as unworthy of the person he must be. And now he was here.

    Ultimately, all he ended up doing was putting the cabin in order, straight and neat. He stood at the door looking in, hands clasped behind his back, ensuring his mind was as organized as his space. Then he turned and shut the door behind him, proceeding not to the observation room, but to the abovedeck hatch.

    Emerging into the salt-scented air, he saw the extent of the damage to the Endeavor and the airmen doing their best to fix it. Lightning had scored part of the envelope and the rear of the ship, blackened in the ship¡¯s lights, with debris scattered all over. Most of it was stone and wood and fungus spat by the storm, but shattered lights and fixtures had strewn glass about as well.

    The ship was clearly battered, but none of it seemed particularly dire. He was quite nearly tempted to return below and convince Montgomery to continue onward to the site of the Discovery, but held himself back. To simply rush ahead heedlessly would be to betray the journey he had undertaken, to ensure he was prepared for Bright Defile. Jonathan had to see through the end properly, if he was to cross the final barrier.

    ¡°You seem restless,¡± Eleanor said, emerging onto the deck behind him. She squinted up at where one of the airmen was inspecting the envelope, then back down at him. ¡°Having second thoughts?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Jonathan said, uncertain of Eleanor¡¯s angle. He didn¡¯t think they were precisely friends anymore, and as far as idle curiosity went there were surely more interesting subjects around. ¡°I merely want to make sure there is nothing I have forgotten.¡±

    ¡°Always seems like whenever you pack, you miss something,¡± Eleanor observed. ¡°If you left an important object back in Beacon, it¡¯s a little late.¡± Jonathan snorted, not quite a laugh. What he had left back in Beacon remained behind on purpose.

    ¡°No, I need only bring myself. Antomine has some tools, I suspect, as I don¡¯t imagine the Illuminated King merely wants an eyewitness.¡± The inquisitor wouldn¡¯t be able to appreciate sunlight properly himself. Knowledge was jealous, and Antomine was committed to the secrets of the Illuminated King. A light that would not survive trying to adulterate the purity of what Jonathan had witnessed.

    ¡°You know at this point I¡¯m wondering if I should even go myself. What with all the insistence you have about how amazing it is.¡± She reached into her greatcoat for her cigarette holder and inserted half a cigarette; clearly Eleanor was nearly out. ¡°Last time didn¡¯t turn out so well for me.¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t force you, but it does seem rather odd to come all this way and not at least lay eyes on the destination,¡± Jonathan said. He didn¡¯t believe that either she or Antomine would be required, but their presence certainly wouldn¡¯t hurt.

    ¡°Maybe.¡± Eleanor lit the cigarette with a match and took a deep drag, staring out at the huge wall of wood by which they were tethered. ¡°I don¡¯t want to end up like you. No interest in anything, no real life. No freedom. Rather not have that kind of knowledge controlling me.¡±

    ¡°Sunlight does not seem to me to be the sort of truth you would seek,¡± Jonathan said after a moment, not quite agreeing with Eleanor¡¯s assessment but seeing no point in arguing. ¡°You may simply feel you need to turn away the moment we see Bright Defile. There is no disgrace in that.¡±

    ¡°I suppose.¡± Eleanor exhaled smoke, and Jonathan decided she would come. Her curiosity hadn¡¯t been entirely crippled by what had happened with the Black Garden. Unlike with the Garden, he was not going to suggest she actually try to understand the secrets involved. Eleanor was a creature of the dark.

    ¡°You know, I have to ask,¡± she said abruptly. ¡°How is it you always look like your suit¡¯s just been pressed? It¡¯s just eerie, but I also wish I knew how to do that.¡±

    ¡°A small and esoteric technique I discovered on my return, walking from here to Beacon,¡± Jonathan said modestly. ¡°I don¡¯t know if you have the proper background for it, but I can relate some of the details.¡±

    Whether or not Eleanor truly understood the particular oddities of the knowledge he imparted, they spent some time talking as airmen attended to repairs. The sound of banging and clanging echoed through the ship, and the groan of metal as bent fixtures or fittings were forced back into shape. Even the lights went out on occasion, as glass piping was replaced or repaired.

    ¡°We should probably take a couple days,¡± Montgomery told him, after Eleanor took her leave and impatience drove him to find the captain. ¡°Just to make sure the Endeavor is in proper shape. But we are lower on supplies than I¡¯d like, and if there¡¯s any metal or glass on the Discovery, we could use it. Those should still be good.¡±

    ¡°I believe so,¡± Jonathan said, which wasn¡¯t a lie. He wasn¡¯t entirely certain of the disposition of the Discovery¡¯s supplies, but they had not encountered the same troubles that had hounded the Endeavor. His last expedition had been considerably more innocent, not weighted down by the deeper knowledge that had dragged furrows all the way from Beacon to the Grave of Wood. ¡°The Discovery was mostly myceliplank, however ¡ª I doubt there will be much carisium there.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± Montgomery said, casting a glance to the side of the bridge where the broken pane of glass had been replaced by a thin sheet of iron. It made the view distinctly lopsided, but they certainly couldn¡¯t leave it open. ¡°Well, something is better than nothing,¡± he said with resignation. ¡°You said it¡¯s not far. Where, exactly?¡±

    Jonathan removed the last, smallest notebook from inside his suit, flipping to the sketch he had made of the Grave of Wood. It was at best an estimate, an extrapolation from what could be seen from the lights of the ship. He had no idea of the true extent of the place, but the only part that mattered was the path toward Bright Defile.

    ¡°There is a main thoroughfare, which we can locate by looking at the relative locations of the biers.¡± He handed the notebook to Montgomery, who carried it over to the navigator. Despite the strangeness of the place, navigation within the Grave of Wood required no special preparation. At least, not to get to Bright Defile. Whatever other secrets it might hold would have to wait for someone else to investigate them.

    ¡°I would not suggest going any further than the Discovery,¡± Jonathan cautioned. ¡°In fact, it might not even be possible. The final approach to Bright Defile will have to be on foot.¡±

    ¡°Under the circumstances, that¡¯s likely for the best,¡± Montgomery said, eyeing the darkness outside. ¡°If sunlight is really as big a thing as you¡¯ve been saying, I¡¯d rather not risk the ship.¡±

    ¡°That is fair,¡± Jonathan allowed. Even he wasn¡¯t certain what would happen to the artifice of man, were it fully exposed to that light of truth.

    Airmen freed the tethers on the ground and the ship shuddered back into motion, cautiously sliding out of the shelter of the tremendous wooden bier. The pilot used the angles of the monuments to steer the Endeavor, as they were simply arranged in a sort of a fan radiating out from the entrance to Bright Defile. Relatively simple calculations were all that were needed to point them toward the thoroughfare.

    Spotlights played over bare rock and drifts of dirt, accumulating against the sides of the biers. It was clear nothing had disturbed the area in a long time, not even to leave prints in the dust and earth. They moved slowly, the engines kept low either from damage or an abundance of caution or both. Jonathan stood at one side of the bridge, studying the features revealed by the ship¡¯s spotlights until he spotted something familiar.

    A particular body, whose cloth draped nearly to the ground, heralded the center path. Smooth-polished metal slabs, like flagstones the size of a city block, formed a clear avenue stretching due east. The Endeavor swung onto a new heading, and soon enough the form of the Discovery loomed out of the dark, next to the prize that had tempted it.

    The ship hung close to the ground, much of its lifting gas escaped over the past few years, with a smaller and squatter profile than the Endeavor. Tether chains held it fast next to a clearly defaced bier, an enormous sledge leaning against cracked and broken wood and chunks of salt, with the gleam of something shining coming from within. Jonathan didn¡¯t know what the bier held, and nobody ever would; trying to cross inside was what had brought the guardian down upon them, and that was not a mistake that Jonathan would repeat.

    ¡°Make sure everyone knows not to try and go inside,¡± he told Montgomery, though he¡¯d already warned against trying to take anything from the graveyard. ¡°Only the ship is safe.¡± That fact was demonstrated by the lingering zint glow from the bridge of the Discovery, showing that the guardian had not bothered with it. Anything of the east would have extinguished the zint as a matter both of course and of nature.

    ¡°Right,¡± Montgomery said grimly, and had the pilot bring them in closer to the derelict. The long iron poles driven in by the Discovery¡¯s tethers were still firmly planted in the ground, but the Endeavor drove her own. There was no telling what wear there had been in the intervening years. He joined Antomine on the cargo deck, brushing off the sleeves of his pristine suit as the crew readied the descent line.

    Their preparations were interrupted by Penelope, the ship¡¯s cat, appearing from the stairwell in a tumble of paws just as a frantic meowing sounded from beyond the open hatch. With a snap of wings a second cat, a ragged tom in tortoiseshell coloring, flew in the hatch and landed on the deck. Jonathan recognized him as Dreyfus, the Discovery¡¯s ship cat, somehow still alive after the attack and years alone.

    There was a brief standoff as the two cats stared at each other, ears twitching and the occasional low growl bubbling to the surface, before Penelope sneezed and sauntered away. Dreyfus followed after, and immediately found a friend in Sarah, jumping into the surprised maid¡¯s arms as she came down the stairs.

    ¡°Where did you come from?¡± She asked the tom, who responded with a purr.

    ¡°That¡¯s Dreyfus, the Discovery¡¯s ship cat,¡± Jonathan informed her. ¡°I am not certain how he survived these past few years, but I suppose it hardly matters.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps not,¡± Sarah conceded, already turning around to return to the upper decks and take care of the cat. The entire incident created a sense of guarded optimism among the crew, though of course the Discovery still needed to be inspected before salvaging could begin in earnest. Jonathan and Antomine led that detachment ¡ª Jonathan because he was familiar with the ship, and Antomine because it truly was his business to inspect the final fates of the men aboard.

    Surprisingly, Antomine had two Lux Guards with him by the time the descent line was rigged, showing that he had somehow managed to repair the damaged one. Jonathan gave him a sharp look, but Antomine didn¡¯t comment. The best explanation that Jonathan could think of was that the encounter with the Players and seeing the Game had stirred some understanding on the inquisitor¡¯s part, but that was only a guess.

    Jonathan stepped into the descent line, riding down to the smooth surface, where the other ship nearly touched the ground. The presence of the Discovery in person stirred vague and discomfiting memories, emotions that roiled up before being burned off by the soothing surety of sunlight. The humble vessel was a strange relic of a profound discovery, and yet at the same time merely useful scavenge. A waypoint, but not the destination itself.

    The salt-heavy air had preserved the myceliplank fairly well, other than some cracking and shrinking that loosened the individual boards. The chains holding the Discovery down had corroded, but in the still air and protection of the Grave of Wood, they weren¡¯t near to failing. There were no traces of any disturbance, despite which Jonathan kept his pistol ready, along with a borrowed cutlass, as he followed Antomine and the Lux Guards inside.

    It was exactly as he had left it years ago. Here and there uniforms puddled on the floor, with no trace of their owners. As if those wearing them had simply evaporated ¡ª which was not far from the truth. Antomine stopped at each one and muttered a few words, the Lux Guards alert as they swept through the ship. An effort soon completed, given the vessel¡¯s size, so Antomine gave the signal for airmen to come aboard and begin scavenging.

    ¡°This the furthest east any human vessel has gone,¡± Antomine remarked, looking out to where the thoroughfare continued into the darkness beyond the lights. ¡°And yet it is an abandoned derelict. There is a lesson there, I feel.¡±

    ¡°The greatest risk is always the unknown,¡± Jonathan said. ¡°That is the lesson, and it¡¯s something that anyone could conclude just by going through life.¡± Antomine gave him a disapproving look for the answer.

    ¡°Such churlishness does not become you, Mister Heights.¡± Antomine waved a hand at the Discovery. ¡°We are all expecting that you can keep the Endeavor from following in her wake. Can you?¡±

    ¡°I believe so. In fact, I would suggest that the Endeavor herself goes no further.¡± He nodded to the Discovery. ¡°Let this be the line where no ship shall pass, and we can proceed on foot from here.¡± In any case, proceeding by foot would be faster than waiting for the ship.

    The time had finally come.

 Chapter Twenty-Seven

    The detachment consisted of himself, his fellow passengers, Captain Montgomery, and six airmen ¡ª including the brawny and wiry pair and Airman Stutt. After the long trip, surprisingly few of the crew wished to tempt fate by venturing any closer to sunlight, preferring to remain on board and take care of repairs. It was a sentiment Jonathan couldn¡¯t fully understand, but it was convenient enough.

    By personal experience, Jonathan knew that Bright Defile was no more than a day¡¯s brisk walk to the east. They had a sled with supplies, but Jonathan didn¡¯t expect to need much of it. The Grave of Wood was a quiet place, with neither creatures nor weather to trouble those that tread its grounds. There was only the long stretch of metal flagstones, with the looming shapes of salt bodies and wooden biers on either side.

    ¡°Whatever possessed you to go this way after your ship went down?¡± Eleanor asked, as they journeyed along the empty thoroughfare.

    ¡°Paths lead somewhere,¡± Jonathan replied. ¡°Better to follow this one and possibly find something useful than get lost among the monuments, or the wilderness.¡± It had been a long time since the headlong flight from the Discovery, and whatever memories he might have held at the time had been wiped away by the impossible clarity of his first vision of sunlight.

    ¡°Can¡¯t say I rightly expect it to be worth the trouble,¡± Montgomery said. Jonathan was actually somewhat surprised that he¡¯d come himself, but a ship captain had to have some amount of curiosity to temper their necessary caution. ¡°Still, it¡¯d be a shame not to see what all the fuss is about.¡±

    ¡°If it is as potent as Mister Heights seems to think, I would advise everyone stay a distance away,¡± Antomine said. He trudged alongside the sled, checking over a heavy box that he¡¯d brought with him. It was something of strange manufacture, a thick metal frame with heavy clamps holding it shut, but dozens of crossing seams to unfold in complex ways. Jonathan presumed its purpose was to capture some sunlight for the Illuminated King¡¯s later perusal, though he had doubts that mere artifice could contain it.

    He could feel the draw of Bright Defile as they walked, as if he were headed downhill. No longer was he fighting against the strangeness of the east, but he had crested the final hill and found the destination he was looking for. The familiar graves around them, monstrous and cryptic, were soothing rather than puzzling. Jonathan even found himself with a smile across his face, a cheerfulness that he had not experienced in years behind it.

    ¡°Stop looking so damned happy,¡± Eleanor said, squinting at him in the lantern-light. ¡°It¡¯s rather creepy after you¡¯ve been serious this whole time.¡±

    ¡°I am merely looking forward to the culmination of this journey,¡± Jonathan said, smoothing his expression. Antomine looked at him closely, but said nothing as they continued the long trek along the thoroughfare. They broke for a meal, and he had little appetite but nevertheless forced himself to eat the hard bread and dried meat. It wouldn¡¯t do to meet the final stretch with anything less than his best.

    The dark path went straight and true, stretching ever eastward. Eleanor and Antomine traded remarks, Montgomery muttered to his men, but Jonathan kept his attention ahead. He knew not when it would come, but he didn¡¯t want to miss the moment. Just as Montgomery was starting to make noises about stopping for the night, it appeared.

    Sunlight.

    To gaze upon it was to instantly, immediately, and intimately understand what was beheld. It carried within itself irrefutable revelation of its nature, so that it would be named and known by any who saw it. All that came in the first moment, when it touched eye and mind and heart. When for the first time, the world become truly visible.

    It broke suddenly from a narrow valley between two looming mountains, existence clarified in a single step after the edge of the last flagstone. A single ray streaming down from above and filling Bright Defile, bright and pure and perfect. So pristine was the illumination that it cast no shadows ¡ª only more light. Its generosity bestowed colors more vibrant than reality could sustain, greens and browns of great trees, reds and oranges of breathtaking flowers. Even at that distance it cast a warmth that soothed both body and soul. Yet it was not without its perils.

    Visible on the straight stone path of unknown antiquity that ran into that narrow valley were statues made of salt. They stood staggered in an irregular line, showing the wear of inevitable time. Some were so old that it was impossible to tell what they had been, others were clearly creatures foreign to man, but the two newest were human.

    Jonathan stood basking in the barest hint of reflected sunlight, feeling its touch from the place it illuminated even if he had not entered the light itself, while the rest of the party straggled in after him. Each of them stopped, arrested by the impact of the sight and sensation. Each of them stared, touched by the nature and truth of what they saw.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be damned,¡± Montgomery said quietly. ¡°It really is sunlight.¡± Others had similar exclamations every single one of them poleaxed the moment they stepped off the flagstones by the impact of sunlight.

    His were the only words for a time, as everyone stood and breathed and marveled. Yet it was not sufficient for Jonathan to simply see ¡ª this was a vista he had experienced before. He yearned to go closer, to meet sunlight and not simply look upon it from afar. The impulse was right and natural, and he clearly was not the only one who had it. One of the crew moved forward, as if pulled by an invisible hand, and Jonathan put out his hand to block him.

    ¡°No,¡± the man said, and Jonathan realized it was Stutt. ¡°I need this. I can see past the bells. I can hear¡ª¡± He took another step, and Jonathan let him this time. The short, bearded man managed three more before collapsing to his knees, face contorted in agonized relief. Even that much closer to sunlight wrought visible effect upon the man, the force of the light blowing away streaming images of his body. Yet at the same time Stutt¡¯s expression eased, as whatever secrets or mysteries that hounded him from his time at the Caldera were illuminated and rendered harmless by a deeper knowledge.

    Even that far from the threshold was hardly safe. The first salt statue, one so heavily worn that it was only a pillar with the barest hint of a shape, was only an arm¡¯s length further forward. Stutt had likely reached his limit ¡ª any further and he would compromise himself, collapse under the weight of all his failures exposed.

    ¡°Most of you will find this your limit.¡± Jonathan turned away from the sight long enough to glance over the assembled people. ¡°This is as far you should go. Each step closer to sunlight will test you. Nothing will stop you from turning back, but there are consequences for going beyond what you have earned. As Captain Hardiman and Stoneface learned.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t need to get any closer,¡± Eleanor said, blinking and holding up a hand to shield herself from the light. To no avail, for sunlight cast no shadows. It was not a thing that could be blocked or sheltered from. ¡°That¡¯s not for me.¡± She shuddered, seeming pale and almost insubstantial as the shadows of her secret knowledge were stripped away. What remained was just Eleanor, and perhaps she would find succor in that given a chance, but Jonathan didn¡¯t try to insist.

    She stepped away, back from the threshold, back into darkness. After a moment of whispered discussion, Sarah, the small and dark maid, followed her. Marie, the tall and fair one, squared her shoulders, squinting into Bright Defile but betraying no eagerness to move ahead.

    ¡°I am forced to admit this is something, Mister Heights.¡± Antomine spoke at last, his pale eyes washed out by the sight before them. ¡°For this entire journey I had doubts you had really found it, despite the assurances of my king.¡± He picked up his box from the sled, running his fingers over the sealed cover. ¡°I only hope I can bring back enough to satisfy his demands.¡±

    ¡°Mister Antomine, I suspect you will find it difficult to get anything of value,¡± Jonathan remarked, freed of all unnecessary caution now that he was at his goal. ¡°The light that you and your king use is but a pale imitation of the truth you see before you. For all that you seek to harness it, the only way to use it is to ask ¡ª and I do not believe it will serve you, Mister Antomine.¡±

    ¡°But it will serve you?¡± Antomine regarded him, half with skepticism and half with contempt, but with a tiny sliver of fear showing behind his eyes.

    ¡°Certainly not,¡± Jonathan said scornfully. ¡°I have no need of that. It has never been my desire to control the secrets I find. Sunlight is no different.¡±

    ¡°Then you merely seek a greater enlightenment?¡± Antomine pressed, his fingers tapping the lid of the box. Like most of the others, he avoided looking directly at the ray of light for too long, likely finding it overwhelming to mind and soul alike.

    ¡°I seek sunlight itself,¡± Jonathan said. ¡°Gentlemen and lady. I remind you again, if you go forward ¡ª do not seek to go further than you can endure. Each step you take will allow you to see more, understand more, be more. But we are all mere flesh and blood, assembled from a long history of mistakes and compromises. Here at the end of the journey, I know that I have forged myself into someone who will not compromise when it comes to this,¡± he said, only in that moment realizing he spoke the truth of it. The necessity of the journey, and of testing his resolve. That in knowing his resolve to be true, he would not yield under pressure.

    ¡°Only you can decide what is enough, but I warn you, do not overestimate yourself.¡± He swept them all with his gaze once more and then stepped onto that smooth and narrow path. The light thickened around him, weighty but insubstantial, exerting a pressure not of physical form but of the spirit, of the self, of history and deed. It was familiar and welcomed, reminding Jonathan of the relief of returning to the ground after too long in rarefied altitudes.

    Behind him, he was aware of Antomine and the Lux Guards following, along with the brawny and wiry pair. Marie, Montgomery, and the rest of the crew seemed content with staying at the threshold and drawing what they could from that infinitesimal exposure. All of them too attached to their place in the world to even dare venture beyond it.

    Another step, past the liminal space where Stutt still knelt, and the trial truly began. Within his mind, the searing truths of sunlight rose up as a challenge, a labyrinth that challenged the very nature of a person. The last time he had been here, it had nearly defeated him. He had been uncertain, invested in his past and his way of life, his reputation and his possessions.

    Jonathan walked not just upon the level path, but in a place wrought from his self. Every person he knew, every place that he¡¯d been. Every thing he¡¯d owned, discovered, and lost. It had been there all along, but only in the revelatory light was it made manifest.

    Beacon itself, and his home within it, projected through the lens of his years there. Danby¡¯s, Autochthon Reach, and even the ruined town of Danner¡¯s Grasp ¡ª all these places lay behind him, the substance of their ideas illuminated for scrutiny. The temptation of Terminus, and settling for merely good enough; the temptation of the Players and their Game, and settling for the wrong dream. The cities of Tor Ilek and Angkor Leng; the city of Ukaresh, with She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed at its heart. By sunlight all such places could be seen, whole and entire, despite their size and distance.

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    Perhaps Ukari herself noticed some distant connection, as sunlit truth drew her from Jonathan¡¯s mind. Others appeared as well, the animated memories and knowledge of those Jonathan knew. His chauffer Johann, his housekeeper Agnes. Captain Hardiman and Captain Montgomery; the men of the Exploration Society, the betrayer Tiuni. Of course, Antomine and Eleanor.

    Strangely enough, there was something more to his fellow passengers. They were present not just as representations, but their very selves gave life to their figures. Eleanor was clearly startled to be there despite herself, even while she appeared as barely an outline, washed away by the brilliance all around.

    ¡°What the devil?¡± She asked, startled, once again trying to shade her eyes. ¡°Jonathan, if you¡¯ve¡ª¡±

    ¡°Peace, Eleanor,¡± Jonathan said, taking another careful step forward. Even prepared as he was, each moment and each movement revealed another layer, burned away another false truth, refined him one more fraction. Everything needed to be done with care, with the proper caution and dignity it was due. ¡°There is nothing to harm you here save your connection to me.¡±

    ¡°This is rather disconcerting,¡± Antomine said, behind him both physically and in the reality revealed by sunlight, a doubled image. By the strain in his voice, his comment was a vast understatement. ¡°I do not see why this was so alluring to you.¡±

    ¡°Of course not.¡± Jonathan took the question as one component of the path forward ¡ª as indeed it was. He was not struggling through some created challenge, an artificial test. It was exactly the same challenge as navigating any other part of the world, a natural consequence of the construction of reality. Just as it was difficult to scale a cliff face, or to lift heavy weights, or to endure extreme temperatures, so too was it difficult to proceed toward sunlight. Only now that he had tempered his mind and soul could he advance with any assurance.

    ¡°You are a creature of your king,¡± he said, after a moment of thought, and one more step forward against the flensing edge of light and truth. ¡°How could you give yourself to something else? To accept a reality where he is irrelevant would be to burn the whole of what you are.¡±

    Antomine, Jonathan decided, was a warning about the past. About the preoccupations and powers that ruled the human city of Beacon and its many daughters ¡ª for good or ill. Jonathan had no desire to stay and be merely part of the dark sprawl of the world, even if he were rendered rich and famous. He found such goals to be tawdry next to the purity of the truth.

    The pressure of the light changed, but did not lessen. There were no right or wrong answers; the trial was not a puzzle to be solved. Either his understanding would be sufficient to carry him through, or he would find himself crumbling. As if in reminder or demonstration, his steps brought him within touching distance of one of the salt statues, a remnant of some failed pilgrim from ancient history, one that shared Jonathan¡¯s intent but not his drive or his will.

    ¡°Are you to judge me next?¡± Eleanor demanded, her voice sharp and cutting ¡ª but all her own, the way he had known her when they had first met. ¡°Is that why you¡¯ve drawn me into this¡ª¡± She choked on whatever word she was trying to say, for naming sunlight as false or illusory was more than to merely lie. It was impossible. ¡°This crusade of yours?¡±

    ¡°It is not for me to judge you,¡± Jonathan said. ¡°Only myself. Eleanor, under the light of sunlight I tell you, I did not mean for you to be hurt by the secrets of the Garden. Now I wish you to go and live your life, as you wish to. Beyond that, I have no advice to give. A vast gulf separates us, for you are of the dark and I am of the light. I wish you well.¡±

    With great deliberation, he let go the last of his ire toward Eleanor ¡ª and his fondness for her, too. Whatever connection they had, from first meeting to last, no longer mattered. The light burned it away, and he took another step. Her phantom presence faded with something like relief, forever severed from him.

    The demands of sunlight pressed on him as they had once before, the first time that he had seen Bright Defile. Any lies or deceptions, any shadows or uncertainties were laid bare in its presence. Secrets and mysteries were unraveled and made moot.

    The insight wasn¡¯t merely into his own self, but into the underpinning of the world. Like the Players and the Game, there was an understanding of the true scope of the things to be discovered ¡ª except this was all that was true in the light, not merely sprouted in the darkness. It gave him the impression of some great expanse, where all the most profound secrets he had yet wrested from the corners of creation were bare pebbles compared to the rich and fertile country stretching before him. Such was the allure and promise ¨C the incontrovertible truth ¨C that had drawn him onward. Had drawn so many forward after that first glimpse, as the pillars of salt testified. As the Grave of Wood testified.

    His steps approached the twin statues of Captain Hardiman and Stoneface, expressions of determination and fascination etched forever in salt. Jonathan had no idea why they didn¡¯t turn back, nor what had driven them beyond their abilities ¡ª but they had not been the first, and would surely not be the last. Lack of judgement was one of the very flaws that would cause someone to crumble under the revealing light.

    Only a pace behind him, Antomine seemed to be laboring, finding the weighty demands of sunlight a burden, rather than relishing the pressure the way that Jonathan did. The inquisitor had made it further than Jonathan had expected, accompanied by his Lux Guards. The wax men showed no particular strain, but they were things rather than people, something that became increasingly clear as sunlight stripped away the trappings of humanity that had been layered upon them.

    Bright Defile drew nearer, step by step. The physical distance was hardly at issue; ten feet or a thousand miles, all that mattered was the intensity of sunlight. The layers of truth and knowledge, the continual refining away of that which was dross. The uncertainties and failures.

    ¡°Mister Heights!¡± Antomine¡¯s voice pulled Jonathan from his reverie. It was hoarse and strained, and when Jonathan looked behind him the inquisitor was haggard and worn, as if he¡¯d traveled the thousand miles rather than the ten feet. Progressively less substantial versions of Antomine streamered out behind him, the sunlight exposing his faith and belief to inscrutable truth. Jonathan himself had no ghostly images, having shed his attachments and made of himself someone ready to go into sunlight.

    ¡°This is the limit,¡± Antomine continued, needing to take a breath. ¡°This is as far as we go. I need¡­¡± He trailed off, wrestling with the box he carried, unlatching it and opening it up. The faces unfolded to expose a gleaming glass and crystal interior, a mirrored array clearly intended to trap and carry the smallest portion of sunlight. Jonathan watched for a moment, unable to tell whether the device worked or not ¡ª but the truth was something more than could be conveyed by mere artifice. Then he turned away, facing Bright Defile once again.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Antomine¡¯s voice snapped, some of the life returning to it as Jonathan took another step. ¡°I said this is as far as we go. We cannot tread any further.¡±

    Jonathan stared at Antomine with something like disbelief. It was impossible to lie or dissemble under the touch of sunlight, so he knew the inquisitor was serious. Yet Jonathan found it hard to believe that Antomine would be so incredibly foolhardy ¡ª or deluded.

    ¡°You cannot, perhaps. But I? Did you think that I came all this way merely for a taste of the fruit, and not the tree entire?¡± Jonathan laughed scornfully, no longer worried about hiding his opinion ¡ª or even able to, under sunlight. ¡°No, I know my path.¡± An expression of fond reminisce stole across his face. ¡°From the very first, I knew I would go unto sunlight, go whither truth may wend and walk the far shores of revelation.¡±

    ¡°You cannot!¡± Antomine straightened against the force of the light, closing his box with a snap. ¡°I forbid it.¡±

    ¡°You forbid it?¡± Jonathan squared his shoulders, brushing off the spotless sleeves of his suit. Its pristine nature was beginning to fray, as the secrets Jonathan knew that kept him unblemished were exposed and made moot. ¡°We are far beyond any point where your authority mattered. I have allowed you the liberties necessary to ensure that we made it here, but no longer. You are insignificant, Mister Antomine. An impotent agent of an irrelevant king. Take your box and go.¡±

    ¡°It is my role to safeguard the humanity of the Illuminated King¡¯s people! On that responsibility alone I must stop you.¡± Antomine clearly wished to say no more than that, but in the truth of sunlight he was compelled to continue. There was no dissembling within sight of Bright Defile. ¡°The idea of a man such as you mastering secrets even the Illuminated King cannot fathom is a terrifying threat to everything he has built. That is a circumstance that cannot be borne.¡±

    ¡°Then stop me,¡± Jonathan said, dismissing the petty concerns of the inquisitor and his master. ¡°You know you cannot. You never could, and the bleating of a terrified animal has never really mattered.¡±

    ¡°There you are wrong. I certainly can stop you.¡± Antomine¡¯s eyes flashed, and for a moment the presence of the Illuminated King himself seemed to radiate out from the white pupils. ¡°You are still a human, still one of the men of the west. I order you to come back.¡±

    Jonathan felt a stirring, a tether within his mind being grasped. Whether it was something that the Illuminated King had done upon their meeting, or just a natural connection by virtue of Jonathan¡¯s origins, Antomine knew how to reach some secret aspect of Jonathan¡¯s own self. An appeal to something primal, rather than a compulsion ¡ª meat before a starving beast, rather than a whip upon its back.

    It was something that likely would work on someone unsuspecting, uninitiated in the deeper mysteries and ignorant of their own drives and compulsions. Jonathan was no starving beast, and he responded to the command by letting the sunlight blaze through him in righteous fury, focused on Antomine. Memory of sunlight alone had borne enough of the essence of truth to burn the unworthy, and in the presence of the thing itself he felt it more surely then ever.

    In that light he uncovered that deep connection and let it burn away under the weight of raw reality. There would be no hidden motivations where he was going. His anger washed over Antomine, drowning out the paltry light of zint. The inquisitor screamed, the white in his pupils burning, and the Lux Guards leapt forward to seize him.

    They failed.

    The wax guardians melted in the light of the sun as Jonathan blazed, zint leaking out and the armor dropping to the ground. A great wind blew and the spreading puddles of metal and wax turned to salt, while Antomine collapsed to his knees. The white in his pupils was gone, and he looked like a man lost. Jonathan turned his back on the inquisitor and faced Bright Defile. There would be no more interruptions.

    Another step and Jonathan was closer than he¡¯d ever been, pacing another set of ancient salt statues, pitted and worn by the passage of time. The vestiges of failed understanding still clung to them, but he was firm in his convictions and all his weaknesses had been scoured from him. The reflected memories of his past were still with them, both a strength and a rod for his own back, a weight to bear while they guided him forward. The closer he got to Bright Defile, the less distinction there was between that which was within and that which was without.

    Suddenly he stood at a threshold, a point beyond which no statues stood. A deep gulf lay before him, and in that place there was no difference between a barrier of understanding and that of the land itself. A darkness, in a land defined by sunlight, yet its nature was entirely clear, for there were no secrets under the revelatory reality of Bright Defile. The final barrier was one that could only be crossed if all else was shed, for to live in sunlight was to have no shadow left.

    His empty estate was the first memory to burn, kindling like paper as that sacrifice lit up a bare fraction of that gulf. Then his connections to his chauffer and his housekeeper, two more candles in the dark. Each decision he had made to truly commit, to erase his way back, to sacrifice the past and present for this moment rose up to pay for his way.

    The death of Tiuni. The destruction of Tor Ilek, a burning city lighting his path. Each book that he¡¯d thrown from the deck of the Endeavor a single spot ¡ª like stepping-stones on his path. Laying a god to rest, the burning of its corpse lighting his way. The sacrifice of Angkor Leng, a golden city inside the dream of a god providing an ephemeral radiance. The loss of his friendship with Eleanor; his banishment from Ukaresh. The visage of She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed flashed briefly, stern and commanding, and perhaps even nodded to him before adding to the pyre. The rejection of the Players and the Game, the dark inverse of sunlight¡¯s bright truths.

    At the last, his cane lay as a thin sword-blade across the final stretch, letting go one last time, sacrificing it to cross the impossible gap ¡ª a perilous crossing, but one that Jonathan could not shrink from. The final step was in darkness washed by light, closing that last infinitesimal gap between himself and sunlight. Then he was through, and stood within the bounds of Bright Defile.

    Beyond the narrow valley was a great green country, stretching out and up in all directions, with proud mountains and clouds of purest white. In every leaf and blade of grass, every stone and drop of water in the swift and flowing rivers were writ the secrets of all time and space, and far above was a vast blue sky. And the sun ¡ª older than worlds, older than time, and vaster than anything that could be imagined. Behind him, the whole of the shrouded lands he had come from was a dim mote, floating in a gap between sunbeams, an overlooked corner of creation.

    Jonathan felt the warmth of the sun on his face, a wind wild and free at his back, and the liberty of truth before him. And he smiled.

    In the lands westward from Bright Defile there was a flash of light, and a great silhouette of a man. Jonathan¡¯s shadow stretched from the furthest east all the way to Beacon, where the Illuminated King stood in his tower. For just a moment, he was a titan fit to bestride the world ¡ª and then he was gone.

 Epilogue

    There was considerable excitement in Beacon and the lands of the Illuminated King over the apparition that had appeared at the turning of the season. But the inhabitants of those places were long accustomed to the strangeness that occasionally came from the east, such as the immense glacilium that had brought unseasonable cold before leaving again. The visitor had nearly been forgotten by the time an airship limped into port, battered and tattered, from an expedition to the far east.

    The immense wealth of gold that the Endeavor brought with it generated far more interest than the lone inquisitor or the odd trio of women who disembarked. The passengers were nobody famous, but the sheer poundage of raw metal moving through customs made half of them minor celebrities ¡ª if only to those who wished to take advantage of the windfall.

    It was said that Captain Montgomery spent a portion ¨C a breathtaking amount to most, but only a fraction of the total ¨C on the repair of the Endeavor. If the laborers complained that the ship¡¯s spine or envelope felt strangely over-familiar to the touch and the ship¡¯s cats watched them with an uncanny intelligence, that was simply attributed to the oddness of explorers and those who voyaged out into the dark. It was well known there had been an a member of the Inquisition aboard, so nothing too untoward could have occurred.

    The young inquisitor in question vanished into Beacon¡¯s tower. Most of those who saw the Illuminated King on a regular basis afterward ¨C the court functionaries and nobles ¨C remarked that his light seemed even brighter than before, his strength, if anything, greater. There was talk of pushing the boundaries of the kingdom further, of entering a new golden age.

    Yet of the inquisitor himself there was no sign. Certain rumors, rapidly quashed by those within the inquisition, suggested that he was imprisoned, or hospitalized, somewhere deep inside Beacon¡¯s tower, where none ventured save the Illuminated King¡¯s closest confidants. Other, darker rumors suggested that the young man had been somehow consumed by the King, to empower his own monstrous life, but those were only circulated among malcontents and heretics. Such things were only spread to slander the ruler of humanity¡¯s vigil against the darkness.

    Among those same people, however, spread more credible news in the weeks and months following the return of the airship Endeavor. Certain members of the Reflected Council, those shadowy figures who ruled the underworld that existed even in the city of Beacon, went missing. All that was found of them was a copious amount of blood, and a small discarded husk like that of some exotic fruit.

    Despite investigations by some very driven and bloodthirsty professionals, no culprit was ever established. Rather, those particular driven and bloodthirsty professionals as often as not vanished without ever being heard from again ¡ª resulting in a relatively peaceful stretch of time among criminal circles, as the underworld was deprived of its most feared enforcers. Such things were not well-known, however, and occasioned little stir outside of a certain select group.

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Those incidents were relatively minor compared to the excitement among the collectors of curios and artifacts at the chance to acquire some of the last few trinkets from the doomed city of Tor Ilek. Though not within the borders of human civilization, it was known to the Exploration Society, and the strange nature of its architecture was a popular topic among those who dabbled in forbidden knowledge. With its destruction, the last few remnants, no matter how innocuous, became valuable commodities.

    As nearly every airmen of the Endeavor became a very wealthy man, no few of them retired from that life, some to greater and some to lesser success. A number of them were predictably targeted by less savory individuals, especially a pair of robust fellows, one brawny and one wiry, who used their proceeds to jointly purchase their own airship. Most of the thieves and tricksters, however, found that the veteran airmen were no easy targets and, even when a few of the would-be thieves and brigands vanished save for the occasional scorched shadow, their difficulties went unmourned.

    The combined occurrences led some who considered themselves to have more wit than they actually did to label the time after the return of the Endeavor the Winter of Blood. Others tried to label it the Winter of the Shadow, to some degree of mockery. All were in agreement that there was more than the usual excitement, even for a city as large as Beacon, but nothing outlandish enough to warrant more than the normal amount of gossip. By the time it became known that Captain Montgomery was outfitting the Endeavor for another expedition, the proposed trip was no more remarked than any other minor undertaking.

    ¡°A less auspicious departure this time,¡± Eleanor remarked to Captain Montgomery on the bridge of the Endeavor, as the airship left Beacon once again. Sarah and Marie stood behind her, each one with a cat draped over her shoulder; Dreyfus for Sarah and Penelope for Marie. They no longer presented themselves as maids, but still had ended up in Eleanor¡¯s orbit.

    ¡°Considering what happened last time, I¡¯m fine with that,¡± Montgomery replied, puffing on his pipe and keeping a sharp eye on his bridge crew. Most of them were new, if experienced, and had not yet fully settled into their berths. The reasons for Montgomery himself going out again were not clear ¨C he surely had enough money for a lifetime ¨C but perhaps he was simply struck by insatiable wanderlust.

    ¡°Well, we¡¯re not going that far,¡± Eleanor said, looking at the maps she had acquired ¡ª some by legitimate methods, but most not. They stood next to the ones inherited from the Endeavor¡¯s previous journey, and were most comprehensive maps of the east to be found. ¡°Though I suppose Ukaresh is far enough.¡±

    ¡°Especially when we can¡¯t get there anymore,¡± Montgomery said with a sigh.

    ¡°That¡¯s why I needed these other maps,¡± Eleanor said cheerfully. ¡°Only occult maps can get you to places that don¡¯t exist.¡± She ran her fingers through her hair, combing it away from a face that was more youthful than it had been when she¡¯d returned from the east. ¡°Besides, now that I really understand the Green Garden, I ought to be able to find it myself, when we¡¯re close enough.¡±

    ¡°East, then,¡± Montgomery said.

    ¡°Yes, Captain,¡± Eleanor agreed, looking out into the darkness. ¡°East.¡±

    END OF CHASING SUNLIGHT

 Author Afterword & Going Forward (Also Q&A)

    I know that Chasing Sunlight was not nearly as popular as my other works, but it was something I really wanted to do. It¡¯s an odd story, I know, but I had a lot of fun doing it. Having ¡°magic¡± that wasn¡¯t some esoteric energy that could be measured or depleted, having a protagonist that was not only completely unreliable but not even necessarily good. The ability to have absolutely wild setpieces.

    Of course it¡¯s not perfect, but I think I got pretty close to doing what I wanted to do with it. Really the greatest failing was not being able to convey some of what was going on as impactfully as the Gospel of the Smiling Man, which was definitely the best¡­thing that I created. Perhaps it would have been better as something closer to the Shackleton Expedition, but that would have changed the flavor and not allowed me to build the sort of world I wanted.

    (Also, I¡¯m not certain I could have managed something as intense as the Shackleton Expedition)

    Did I learn anything? Well, I¡¯d like to think so, especially in the realm of protagonists. Yet so much of what I did in Chasing Sunlight is sort of unique to it. The intense focus that Jonathan had just isn¡¯t appropriate to most stories, and most protagonists don¡¯t have a singular goal pursued singlemindedly.

    Anyway, I had fun, but the next story is going in a different direction. It¡¯s called Systema Delenda Est.

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    <blockquote>

    When the System came to Earth, technology failed, monsters appeared, and billions died as humans were inducted into the game-like physics the System enforced.

    Unfortunately for the System, not all humans were on Earth. Some scattered postbiological individuals decided to push it back, and embarked on a decade-long crusade to eliminate the System from Earth.

    Cato is just an ordinary postbiological citizen, disgusted enough by the System¡¯s excesses to go through one of the portals on Earth and spread himself to the broader System just as Earth is completely freed. He has no magic, for the System can¡¯t be destroyed from within, but he does have the technology and knowledge of a civilization that is reaching toward the second rank of the Kardashev scale. Cato may have to operate under the System¡¯s limitations, but he certainly doesn¡¯t have to play by its rules, and fully intends to remove the threat it offers.

    ¡°¡­furthermore, I maintain that the System must be destroyed.¡±

    </blockquote>

    However, this story will not be starting immediately. I spent several weeks writing the wrong story, and haven¡¯t caught back up to where I need to be to start publishing this one.  The comic for Paranoid Mage will start at the end of February, and Systema Delenda Est will start posting in late March.

    I will also be answering questions in the comments here, for anyone who might have some curiosity about the setting or the like. The world of Chasing Sunlight is very obtuse, that''s for sure.

    Thank you all for reading!

 Not a Chapter - New Story Announcement!

    Hello, everyone! Once again I have a new story out - and in it I return (sort of) to the world of litRPGs.

    Systema Delenda Est</a>

    Book One: Invading the System

    <blockquote>

    When the System came to Earth, technology failed, monsters appeared, and billions died as humans were inducted into the game-like physics the System enforced.

    Unfortunately for the System, not all humans were on Earth. Some scattered postbiological individuals decided to push it back, and embarked on a decade-long crusade to eliminate the System from Earth.

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Cato is just an ordinary postbiological citizen, disgusted enough by the System¡¯s excesses to go through one of the portals on Earth and spread himself to the broader System just as Earth is completely freed. He has no magic, for the System can¡¯t be destroyed from within, but he does have the technology and knowledge of a civilization that is reaching toward the second rank of the Kardashev scale. Cato may have to operate under the System¡¯s limitations, but he certainly doesn¡¯t have to play by its rules, and fully intends to remove the threat it offers.

    ¡°¡­furthermore, I maintain that the System must be destroyed.¡±

    </blockquote>

    This is a hard scifi meets litRPG fantasy, reverse System Apocalypse sort of story. It will probably be three books or so, maybe more, certainly not less. If you find that idea interesting, come on over - at time of posting there are five chapters up, some 25,000 words for you to enjoy. And of course, thank you all for reading.

 Not A Chapter â€” New Story Poll

    Not A Chapter ¡ª New Story Poll

    Hello everyone! For my next story, I¡¯ve found I have a number of stories I want to do, but I am not certain what order to do them in. Most or all of these will be written eventually, but I¡¯m curious to know what people are most interested in right now.

    These are just a first chapter. Once more is written these will likely change a little bit, smooth out rough edges and alter some details. So this is not a final product, just an idea of what¡¯s going on.

    Below are four chapters from four different stories, as well as a blurb/author¡¯s notes on what is planned for the story. Please select the one you¡¯re most interested in seeing, and of course any comments you might have.

    <hr>

    Casual Blasphemy

    Blurb:

    Years ago, Antoq made a deal with a god.

    Now his service is ended. Powers returned, oaths fulfilled, he no longer walks with conquerors and kings. Instead he is simply a stranger out of place, who wants to go home.

    But home is a long way away. A long way to go without the prestige or ability he used to have, and with people who remember him when he came through with the fire and the fury of a god¡¯s chosen. The world looks very different from the shadows, and just because Antoq is done with the gods doesn¡¯t mean the gods are done with him.

    Author¡¯s Comments:

    This is meant to be an adventure story, the back half of the hero¡¯s journey. There should be more character development for the protagonist than progression as such. It¡¯s set in a mostly low-fantasy world, but with some occult-style elements in the vein of Chasing Sunlight ¡ª though the world is more familiar than that setting.

    Chapter 1

    Antoq put his pipe between his teeth and lit it with a bit of casual blasphemy.

    The heretical flame danced along his fingertips before he flicked it onto the blood-soaked front door of The Glory Institute. Gouged-out panes of stained glass windows stared brokenly over the dense fog shrouding the crumbling moor, just above the disemboweled ribs of the second-story beams where certain forces had reduced walls of the sprawling manor to dust. Fire bit deep into the ruined wood, spreading with startling swiftness as the smoke from his pipe curled upward to join the dark clouds billowing from the shattered manse.

    The clicking of gears and the sharp sound of steel on stone heralded the arrival of the local constabulary. Antoq turned to look, exhaling smoke in a long sigh, for while he should have been long gone his old bones were no longer as suited to fast movement, especially in the wet chill of the moor¡¯s pre-dawn gloom. He had wished a moment to recuperate, but as the world had not seen fit to grant him that much respite he shifted his coils to face the newcomers.

    Sharp-faced men in white and red, atop the thin-legged mechanical mounts favored by the Olstoi, emerged from the pre-dawn mists. Olstoi always reminded Antoq of the small jaguars that roamed the lower slopes of his homeland, cast in metallic shades rather than black ones, and the leader of the squad was a particularly rumpled example of such. Long, thin whiskers like spun gold protruded from a pinched silver face, and the world-weary slump of every public servant called from their bed at an ungodly hour. Even his sergeant¡¯s badge was askew, the points of the inscribed hexagram tilted from their proper orientation.

    ¡°Gods, what is that!¡± One of the men shouted, lowering his needle-thin shocklance to point at Antoq. The sergeant was somewhat brighter, raising a hand to halt his squad, sharp gray eyes studying Antoq¡¯s no-doubt alien form and maybe even recognizing him. Naga were not exactly common in their part of the world.

    ¡°Well, lads, you¡¯re a bit late,¡± Antoq said, smoke curling out from between his fangs as he looked at the sergeant, ignoring the pointed weapon. Without divine favor, the local tongue was harder to pronounce, but he made do. Behind him, fire licked across ancient wood and dried plaster, crackling as it consumed The Glory Institute with gleeful hunger. ¡°If you had been here earlier, perhaps you could have taken some of them alive.¡± The sergeant opened his mouth, closed it, gave Antoq a sharper look, and then nodded to himself.

    ¡°I remember you. Godridden, right. Two months ago?¡± The man¡¯s voice was as gruff as his look, a growl that came from a mouth used giving orders. ¡°Did y¡¯have to do all this?¡±

    ¡°Mm,¡± Antoq said, puffing on his pipe. ¡°In my defense, they involved me, not the other way around.¡± He waved a lazy hand at the burning spawl behind him. ¡°You can try to take a look, but I would not advise it.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s on fire.¡± The man that spoke was the same one who still had the shocklance pointed at Antoq, some young and hotblooded recruit with delusions of competency.

    ¡°It is,¡± Antoq agreed, and pointed again, this time directing their attention upward above the main doorway, where the flames had already peeled away the paint to reveal a malevolent sigil embedded in the beams of the Institute¡¯s venerable walls. ¡°For the best, I think.¡±

    The sergeant flinched at the sight, though several of the others merely gawped like landed fish, unprepared for the sight. It spoke well of them, for Antoq would not wish familiarity with the dread signs of a dead god on anyone. That was the burden of the godridden ¡ª something he no longer was, but it seemed that is old occupation hadn¡¯t truly left him behind.

    ¡°Be that as it may,¡± the sergeant said, tearing his eyes off the burning building, whiskers twitching as he stared at Antoq. ¡°We need someone to answer questions about this.¡± Antoq considered him, the look in his eyes, the set of his jaw, the lines around his face and mouth, and let out a long exhalation of smoke.

    ¡°The people inside did not begin their debauchery out of nowhere, and tracking their movements should not be difficult.¡± Antoq told him, drawing his coils up under him and rising to a level with the still-mounted constabulary. ¡°They were very important people and there will be similarly important relatives for whom your questions will be more than inconvenient. There will be a certain pressure to make of me a goat, and avoid all that inconvenience.¡± Embers flared in the pipe as Antoq pulled in more smoke, meeting the sergeant¡¯s gaze.

    ¡°Aye,¡± the sergeant said at last, eyes narrowed at Antoq. ¡°Can¡¯t say there¡¯s much I can do ¡®bout anyone that outranks me.¡±

    ¡°Of course not, sergeant,¡± Antoq replied, slithering to one side as a piece of flaming balcony plummeted from above, scattering sparks across the flagstones in front of the Glory Institute. ¡°I propose that instead of taking me as a suspect, you send me down to the Duke with one of your lads. Sidestep all the problems in one go.¡±

    Antoq had no actual desire to speak with the local nobility, and would far rather have slid off into the night, but without the protection of his former station or the resources to sidestep the kingdom¡¯s wrath he had little choice. Better to take control of the situation himself, and prevent the trouble from becoming more than he could handle. He was familiar enough with taking control of situations, as well as being in more trouble than he could handle.

    ¡°S¡¯pose that¡¯s fair enough,¡± The sergeant replied after a moment, his eyes straying to the burning sigil before twitching back to Antoq. He turned to his squad, raising his voice to a sharp bark. ¡°Oi! Harrison! Give th¡¯ godridden your ¡®patic. Miyash, you escort him down to th¡¯ Duke.¡±

    The youngest and least experienced of the squad, obvious both by physical size and a softness in their expression, looked rebellious for nine-tenths of a second before saluting and opening the door of his peripateticon. It unfolded into a small staircase, and Harrison took two steps down, stepping well aside to avoid Antoq¡¯s massive bulk.

    Pouring himself into the narrow bucket seat of one of the mechanical mount was a complex operation, but he managed to rest himself on his own coils as he worked the levers and depressed the pedals with his tail. Miyash was clearly the second-in-command, almost as aged as the sergeant and, impressively, radiated boredom despite the Glory Institute¡¯s indiscretions.

    The Olstoi was a compact fellow, the muscle of someone half again his size compressed into a frame only just large enough to drive a peripateticon. It overflowed his diminutive form, bestowing a distinctly swollen impression upon the unfortunate man as he manipulated dials and levers, turning the peripateticon around and leading Antoq back out into the mist. It was tempting to use the obscuring vapor to lose his guide ¡ª but the clanking and clacking of Antoq¡¯s mount discouraged stealth, and besides Antoq couldn¡¯t outrun an Olstoi on the hunt. Naga had many talents, but endurance was not one of them.

    Only when Antoq was shrouded from the sight of the rest of the constabulary did he let himself slump, all the myriad cuts and bruises, broken ribs and crushed scales making their presence known in an all-over ache. He was far too old to be dealing with unhinged elites scrabbling after powers no mortal was meant to wield. Antoq didn¡¯t even have the support of his god any longer, with only a searing black calm in his heart where the presence of a deity used to rest. Nor did he have any companions at his back, for they had gone their own way once their duty was complete.

    They always did.

    He nudged the controls as he steered the peripateticon along the road, following Miyash toward the city below. Lights shone blearily through the morning mists, and he regarded the blurry line that marked the marina with a wistful dread. Boat travel had never much agreed with him, but it would be faster than going overland, and he was a long way from home. Alas, any such arrangements would have to wait until the unfortunate affair of the Glory Institute had been settled.

    Several times Miyash turned back to look at him, whiskers twitching as the Olstoi opened his mouth to ask some question ¡ª then thought better of it and looked front once again. Antoq was willing enough to make the journey in silence, with only the mechanical noises of his vehicle and the tapping of metal on stone for company. The contents of his pipe slowly turned to ash, smoke vanishing into the hazy white of the surrounding mists, growing whiter as the first reaching beams of dawn stole across the moor.

    Antoq was glad enough of his pipe once they reached the city itself. While Sien was cleaner than many places he had endured, the press of people created unavoidable filth. The woody bite of smoke drowned out the smell of the city outskirts, the peripateticon freeing him from the need to slither through the muck and the mud. There were certain downsides to having a tail rather than legs and feet, and the cities of the more bipedal races contained many of them.

    He attracted startled looks from the few people up at that hour ¡ª lamplighters, window-knockers, urchins and thieves slinking in alleyways, occasional couriers or merchants carting goods. The presence of one of the constabulary prevented any incidents more than a few muffled oaths at the sight of a blue-scaled snake-man perched precariously atop an official peripateticon. At least, until they reached manse the squatting at the center of Sien, a towering confection of quarried white stone and brass ichor-craft, where a quartet of guards barred the way through into the manor grounds.

    ¡°Halt!¡± Said one guard unnecessarily, pushing his mount forward with a jolt. Antoq peered out at the man from under the brim of his hat, upending the pipe and tapping ash onto the road as he waited for his escort to explain things. The guards were the usual mean-minded leg-breakers employed by powers everywhere, their eyes shallow and dull and their very skins bloated with their own importance. Dangerous, in a certain sort of way, but nothing that Antoq feared.

    The highest-ranked of the guards glared at Antoq while engaged in muttered conversation with Miyash, and Antoq responded by tipping his head to the man. Idly, he removed his scraper from an inner pocket and carefully cleaned out the bowl of his pipe, further incensing someone to whom the greatest sin was not recognizing some imagined authority. It was a petty enough provocation, but Antoq had never got along well with worldly authorities ¡ª or divine ones, for that matter.

    ¡°Come on,¡± the guard said at length, beckoning Antoq forward, and he put his pipe and scraper away in an inner pocket before nudging the controls. Brass legs rang against flagstones, then thumped against grass as he was guided, not to the front door, but to the carriage-yard and stable illuminated by small glass lanterns. Given the early hour and the less-than-favorable circumstances of his arrival, it was perhaps the best that could be expected.

    His tongue flicked out of its own accord, tasting the cloying rot of corruption, faint but recent. The same scent that had suffused The Glory Institute. Perhaps he no longer had the demands of a god driving him forward, but a life of hunting the creeping vermin of creation had left him with habits that were hard to break. He was not here for a quarry, but it seemed they would collide nonetheless. There was an inevitability to it; the machinations of the divine, perhaps, or just the nature of cleansing fire seeking out something to burn.

    Antoq brought the peripateticon to a staggered, stilted stop in front of the side door there, sliding out of the machine as it sighed into stillness. The mist-touched grass was cold against his scales, threatening to turn to mud under the tread of too many boots and machines. The guard glared at Antoq and dismounted the proper way, crossing to the side door and pressing a panel there.

    It was an ichor-driven device, the honey-gold stuff shimmering in channels along the jamb as it swung the heavy steel outward with nary a sound. Antoq made sure to study the windows, which were far less defended and, should he need to make an exit in haste, would be of more concern than a guarded portal. It was the sort of thing that had been drilled into his head years ago, when he was but a young godridden and more experienced types had been drawn to his side.

    ¡°You¡¯ll need to surrender your weapons,¡± said a stiff-faced majordomo holding a lantern just inside the vestibule, doing a credible job of not staring at twenty feet of snake-man. In reply, Antoq spread open his coat, showing that he carried nothing that might be classed as such, only small sundries in pockets and a purse filled with coins taken from dead men. The last was something nobody needed to know, as corpse robbing was generally considered uncouth behavior, even when the corpses in question certainly deserved it.

    ¡°What, you go around without weapons?¡± The man stared at Antoq as if he was expecting the long-coat to be holding an entire arsenal.

    ¡°Never much needed to, lad,¡± Antoq drawled, and the guard¡¯s face pinched as he clearly struggled to imagine what that meant.

    ¡°This way,¡± the majordomo said, opening a door into a long hallway lit by some form of oil sconce, low blue flames inside mirrored globes set at intervals along the walls. It illuminated intricate paneling and a rich burgundy carpet that, admittedly, was quite pleasant under his scutes. Antoq had to quash a wave of weariness that tempted him to simply stretch out to his full length on the soft, short-piled stuff. He could sleep later, or when he was dead.

    The reek of repossessed god-stuff grew stronger as he slithered past doors and halls, noting each turn, each staircase and each house bell. Years ago, a skilled investigator in a far distant city had guided him to a particularly well-hidden cabal, and Antoq had taken time to learn from the young woman. The resulting eye for detail was not as good as his teacher¡¯s, but it had still stood Antoq in good stead ¡ª either to find things hidden, or to understand that which was in plain sight.

    Inevitably, the trail of corruption passed through the same door the majordomo opened for him, revealing a room lined with books, the shelves tall enough to require a ladder. Several chairs faced a long, low couch across a table in the center of the room, the furniture gilt and cushioned in dark blue. Antoq slid inside, noting the paunch of the copper-gold man on the couch; clearly the duke, with books at his left hand and papers at his right, weighted down by a jeweled letter opener. The reek came not from him, however, but from the thin man perched upon one of the chairs, an older fellow in fine purple and possessed of a nervous energy that set him nearly toppling off his perch at the sight of Antoq¡¯s entrance.

    ¡°That¡¯s him!¡± The older man screeched, jabbing a finger at Antoq. ¡°That¡¯s the one!¡±

    ¡°I can see that, Mikel,¡± the duke said with far more calm, studying Antoq with clear recognition. The guards stationed in the room were less relaxed, hands going to weapons. Shocklances and swords were readied, though not drawn. ¡°The firesnake,¡± the duke said, invoking the hated diminutive that had somehow pursued Antoq across three continents. ¡°I can smell the smoke from here, but no knife?¡± He looked to the majordomo, noting the lack of any confiscated weapons.

    ¡°No knife,¡± Antoq rumbled, slithering inside and keeping an eye on the dispensation of the guards. He stopped a reasonable distance away from the table, coiling his tail under himself. ¡°I passed that off to the young prince of Takahil some years ago.¡± That was an old bit of business, and Antoq misliked someone taking an interest in it, so he moved past it without further comment. ¡°If you know who I am, then that vastly simplifies matters.¡±

    ¡°But you ¡ª¡± Mikel began to screech again, only to stop as the duke held up a hand.

    ¡°You say that, but Mikel here claims that you have attacked the Glory Institute. Godridden or not, I cannot simply let that pass.¡± The duke¡¯s tone was not as outraged as it ought to have been, revealing he was either unaware of the full extent of the Institute¡¯s destruction, or all too aware of its dealings.

    ¡°It is burning as we speak,¡± Antoq confirmed, clasping his hands behind him to prevent his fingers from taking out his pipe of their own accord. ¡°They condemned themselves by delving into the forbidden teachings of The Door In The Moon. Though I would not have known if certain of their members had not abducted me from the road ¡ª and I doubt I was the first. How many travelers have vanished into the Institute, Mikel?¡±

    ¡°I have no idea what you mean!¡± Mikel lied poorly, that much was clear even to a non-Olstoi like Antoq. The reek of corruption grew stronger, the scent of long-dead gods filling the room. Nobody else seemed to notice, but there was a reason why Antoq had stopped where he did. What seemed a safe distance for an Olstoi was striking distance for a naga.

    ¡°There were too many people involved for it to be a true secret,¡± Antoq remarked, keeping the duke¡¯s gaze. ¡°Of course such a personage of yourself would not be directly involved, so all those minor nobility would be, perhaps, conspiring against you. Seeking the power of a dead god to usurp the proper state of affairs.¡±

    His tongue flicked out, then back in scenting the emotions on the air. The duke himself was to free of the taint, but more nervous than he looked. Antoq knew that the Glory Institute had at least the duke¡¯s tacit backing, and when he was younger, Antoq would have been far heavier with his hand ¡ª but he no longer was a true godridden, and he had found out it was easier to provide people excuses to do the right thing.

    ¡°Yes, of course,¡± the duke replied, seizing upon the implied offer. ¡°The Church is the proper authority to investigate ¡ª¡±

    ¡°No!¡± Mikel shrieked, scrambling out of his chair. Antoq regarded him without pity as the stench of corruption reached a peak and something began to unfold itself from within Mikel¡¯s frame, a presence old and hungry, its wrath cold and distant as the stars. The Door in The Moon was no less dangerous for being dead.

    Antoq struck before it could manifest fully, coiled muscle sending him blurring forward. His hand snatched the jeweled letter opener in passing, flipping it around as he drove the point through Mikel¡¯s left eye with all of Antoq¡¯s weight behind the blow. It was like hitting a tree, Mikel¡¯s body bending but not yielding despite how thin and frail it was. The decorative hilt bent around the eye socket, and what emerged was not blood or gore but invidious shadow, a frozen exhalation as Mikel shrieked in a multiplicity of voices.

    Then Mikel was just meat once more, collapsing bonelessly to the floor. The guards belatedly stirred into action, readied weapons pointed at him long after the danger had passed. Antoq turned to the duke, who had turned a burnt bronze in fear from his first contact with the supernatural. Or simply with murder; Antoq often forgot that most people had not seen as much death as him.

    ¡°You should get someone in here to take care of this before it ruins your rug,¡± he said. It was, after all, a very fine rug.

    ¡°Heresiarch take the godridden,¡± The duke mumbled, clearly not meant for other ears to hear, and Antoq laughed without much humor.

    ¡°Any man could have done that,¡± Antoq replied. Before, when he succeeded in purging such cults, he would have drawn some satisfaction from it at least. Now he just felt tired. He still knew what kind of disaster he had averted, but without the god in his head the task wasn¡¯t something he enjoyed or wanted. Antoq just wanted to go home, not slog through the three continents getting into fights.

    ¡°Then you¡­¡± The duke trailed off, his whiskers twitching as he glanced around and signaled for his guards to stands down. ¡°Will you liaise with the Church on this? We have a Bishop of the Thrice-Born ¡ª¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Antoq cut him off. Even when he had been godridden, he hadn¡¯t bothered with any such diplomatic niceties. Now that he was merely Antoq, he had even less desire to deal with any local factions. The sooner he could leave, the better. ¡°I have done you enough favors by removing this issue for you. But you can tell me who informed you about the knife.¡±

    That Antoq had a particular blade entrusted to him for safekeeping, however temporarily, was not entirely a secret. It was also not well known outside of certain circles, and certainly was not the kind of news that should have made it to a minor Duke in an entirely different kingdom. Perhaps it was innocent, but Antoq had learned never to believe that.

    ¡°Ah?¡± The duke leaned forward, his gaze flicking between Antoq and the body on the floor. Political to a fault, he was clearly calculating how much he could get away with not saying. Wordlessly, the naga slithered back to the table, projecting diffidence even if he was exhausted. The illusion of strength was just as important as strength.

    ¡°A merchant came by after you passed through the first time,¡± the duke said at last. ¡°Bechsel, blue type. Had a bunch of exotic animals, said he¡¯d seen you a while back. I just thought he wanted to know where you come from since, well¡­¡± He gestured at Antoq, who was very much not a local.

    ¡°Name?¡± Bechsel weren¡¯t exactly common in the kingdom of the Olstoi either, as the ant-like people hailed from the far coast, but they weren¡¯t unknown. Antoq had made landfall at a port in their territory years ago, but he¡¯d already handed off the blade by then.

    ¡°Venable Kellek,¡± the duke said after a moment, which meant nothing to Antoq. A Blue Venerable was exactly in the middle of the caste hierarchy, and the name was so common that it might not even be a lie.

    ¡°I see. Well, lad, I¡¯ll leave you to clean up,¡± Antoq said, having no desire to get dragged into local politics, and whatever connection the Venerable Kellek had was far out of time and space. Best to simply move on as quickly as possible and leave it behind, as he so often did. As he always had. Gods demanded much from their mortal hands, and he¡¯d rarely slept in the same place twice.

    The duke hesitated and Antoq began considering the options if his hand were forced. Offense, defense; allowing himself to be imprisoned and escaping; simply burning the house down. Something of it must have registered to the duke, for he hastily waved at one of the guards.

    ¡°See the godridden out,¡± he said. ¡°And fetch the Bishop. We will have to address this before overlong.¡±

    Antoq slipped out the door of the library before anyone could think better of it. At some point, the question would be asked why he wasn¡¯t acting like a godridden anymore, and he did not dare lie about his status. He¡¯d had a god in his head and he well knew what could result from any pretense he still represented them. And without the backing of a god, he was as subject as anyone else to the mercy of men.

    Something there was very little of in the world.

    The majordomo hastened after him, relatively short legs working hard to keep up with the deceptive speed a naga could achieve. Those who relied on their feet found sinuous movement disconcerting, and Antoq took enough pity on the man to pause at the outer door. Though that was at least half because he¡¯d outpaced the news and the guard stationed there was eyeing him askance and letting his hand rest on the shocklance at his waist. Given how much larger Antoq was than any Olstoi, he had to give that particular guard credit for a certain aplomb.

    ¡°Fare you well, honored godridden,¡± the majordomo lied politely, clearly glad to see the last of him. Most people didn¡¯t appreciate a corpse in their house, much less one that would bring the scrutiny of any god¡¯s representative. Antoq touched a hand to the brim of his hat and slithered out the door.

    The peripateticon was, sadly, gone, forcing him to traverse the city of his own accord. Always an unpleasant, dirty process, but one he¡¯d long resigned himself to. There was no point in subterfuge, and Antoq made purchases with dead men¡¯s money as rapidly as he could. Food, smoking materials ¨C those two were of nearly equal importance ¨C some replacements for supplies that he had expended, lost, or had taken since the last time he was in civilization. And passage downriver, again openly. Departure time was not for hours, but he still crawled into his assigned bunk.

    The noise and motion of departure pulled him from a too-short sleep, and Antoq made sure he had all his belongings properly stowed and in waterproof casings. Had there not been such trouble with the Glory Institute, had there not been some strange Bechsel asking after him, he might have actually taken the boat downriver. Might.

    He ignored the knocking at his cabin door and the call to dinner; he¡¯d eaten at least ten pounds of meat earlier and that would take some days to digest, even were he of a mind to meet fellow passengers. Instead he watched the color drain from the world as night fell, then he slipped out the cabin window once it was dark. The water was cold, but he slipped into it with nary a splash, his tail braced against the window as he lowered himself in, then began to swim.

    While Antoq didn¡¯t have the endurance to keep it up for too long, he was more than quick enough in the water to make it to the banks of the big, lazy river, sliding up and into a dense and gnarled forest. He could feel the age of the place the moment he entered the canopy, a deep and abiding patience stretching down into the earth. It wasn¡¯t like sensing the presence of gods or their touch on the world, but rather an instinctive reaction to the deep and old places of the world.

    An excellent place to lose himself, at least for a while. Perhaps by the time he made his way south, whatever furor was coming would have passed. Or at least would be less damnably tired.

    He slid deeper into the ancient forest, finding a place where roots had displaced rocks and forced them to the surface, and gathered wood. Fire was, of course, easy, as he blasphemed once again with the one small understanding he had taken from having a god in his head for so long. A spark lit from his fingertips and caught the kindling.

    So long as he kept the fire small, he did not believe the forest would mind. Most people would not believe that a forest, even one so deep and ancient as the one that stretched below the moors, had things it liked and disliked. Years of experience had disabused Antoq of any such notion. Even after all his experience there were still powers in the world he did not understand, and he suspected ones even the gods could not explain.

    The longcoat was still drying by the fire when he sensed it. Some ineffable change in the way the wind blew through the stout trees, then a faint sound from without, indecipherably liquid. His tongue flicked out and caught the scent of something acrid and dark. Not The Door In The Moon, but something else, something familiar. He sighed and packed a particularly flavorful blend into his pipe and lit it with a splinter from the fire, setting his hat aside as it came out of the darkness.

    Bones and driftwood heaved themselves forward, formed into a massive feline shape that seemed to be coated in tar. Each movement was accompanied by cracking, popping, and a raw bubbling breath, as if motion itself was painful for the thing. It seemed unfair that after so long Antoq was still capable of fearing such things, but the frailties of mortal flesh could not be so easily discarded.

    ¡°Well, come on then,¡± he said, plucking a burning brand from his fire and holding it ready. Instead of a roar or growl or any normal monstrous sound, the thing rushed forward in silence. He dropped flat, darting forward under dripping ivory talons and raking his lit torch along the underside of the monster. The burning wood hissed, almost extinguished by the black, reeking stuff that bound the detritus together.

    The monster slammed a leg down, claws drawing a burning line along his scales where he hadn¡¯t quite avoided it and adding to the catalogue of aches and pains. Antoq darted off to the side, winding his way up one of the trees as the monster whirled, darting for him much faster than anything of that size should move. It tilted its head, looking up at him and taking those horrible, bubbling breaths, sounding as if it were drowning.

    Antoq slipped through the canopy, head down and arms to the side, but didn¡¯t dare stray too far from the firelight. The creature followed, despite the lack of apparent eyes, pacing him below and with a sudden rush crashing against the trunk of one of the trees. It groaned and held, but shook hard enough to rattle his fangs, numbing scales where his coils wrapped around the branches.

    In another time or place he would have had people with him. Or, if not, he would have had a god riding along in his head, lending him power and purpose. Now, he had just himself and a few small understandings. It would have to be enough.

    He lifted his hand and once again called for the glimpse he¡¯d had of terrible truths, the cleansing flame which burns away the dead wood of the world ¡ª then dropped down on top of the thing. The thick, tar-like stuff clung to his scales, his coils sinking into the bulk of the thing as it reared back in surprise as he wound himself about its neck. The tar simply gave under his scales as his squeezed, sinking into the muck, so instead he thrust the flame against its head.

    The spark caught. With it came a glimpse of something cruel and cloying, impressions forcing their way into his head as the fire found fuel. Not in anything physical, but in the unnatural threads that wound around the thing and tied it together. A curse.

    With that understanding the monster went up like dry tinder, and Antoq wrestled himself away, scales smarting from the heat as it burned, small flickers of flame consuming any clinging residue. He breathed heavily, pulling hard on his pipe and feeling the smoke flow through his mouth as the focus of combat gave way to the cold weariness afterward. The monster itself vanished into smoke, rising up among the trees ¡ª and leaving behind on the ground a naked woman, a human, slumped unconscious on the ground.

    Antoq stared for a moment, finding that he was still capable of surprise, then slithered over to her. He could smell the curse still lingering, sunk deep into her bones. In times past, that would have been it; the god riding his head would brook no corruption. Instead, Antoq picked her up and carried her to the fire, removing blankets from his pack and wrapping her in them before bandaging his own wound.

    ¡°What am I going to do with you?¡± Antoq muttered to himself, settling into his coils and staring at the fire, smoke curling from his pipe. The affairs of gods and monsters and curses should be behind him. He was no longer godridden, his deal was complete.

    All he wanted to do was go home.

    <hr>

    Objects in Motion

    Blurb: Superheroes are defenders of law and justice, protectors of the meek. Supervillains are those who abuse their power for their own gain and terrorize the citizenry. To those on the ground, there isn¡¯t much difference between the two; the ant suffers when gods war. For Isaac Hartson, supers of either variety are violent, dangerous, and subject to no consequences to their actions. He¡¯s out to supply some.

    While a metahuman himself, he¡¯s not anywhere near the upper reaches of power, so his desire requires more than just fists. It takes a little bit of caution, as well.

    Author¡¯s Comments:

    In some ways this is in the same vein as Paranoid Mage, with a small skillset exploited to the utmost and a contest against The Power That Be. However, this isn¡¯t The Boys where everyone¡¯s a psychopathic murderer. Nor will it be like Callum where Isaac flat out refuses to work within the system. So, superhero urban progfantasy with more emphasis on fighting smarter than punching harder.

    Chapter One

    ¡°Quake in fear under the might of Dimetria!¡±

    A girl in bubblegum-pink armor landed on the hood of the armored car, denting it heavily and sending the engine into a grinding, sputtering halt. Dimetria laughed aloud as the security immediately opened fire ¡ª and the bullets hit the armor, only to simply fall onto the hood of the car. With another bound she jumped to the rear of the armored car, bringing the wrecking bar in her hand down on the locked door. The length of steel gouged out the lock and latch mechanism both, and the door swung open.

    Inside the armored car were racks after racks of softchips in padded cases, and another guard whose bullets hit the pink armor and clinked to the ground. Dimetria grabbed two of the cases, one with each hand, and then turned and left with a mighty leap, vanishing into the tangle of buildings, railways, and roads with only a few more desultory gunshots. The car didn¡¯t have any meta security because, really, softchips were not valuable enough for any real villain to waste their time on.

    Dimetria jumped several more times, attracting some attention from ordinary folks on the ground, and then ducked into the stairwell of a parking garage. Off came the painted, printed foam of the armor, as well as the radioactive blonde wig, which were stuffed into the bottom of a burn barrel. The first appearance of Dimetria would also be the last.

    Isaac Hartson had no desire to actually be a supervillain. The ones that had any success were powerful, ruthless, and terrifying, all things that Isaac was not. All the rest were either independents who were quickly squashed by either heroes or other villains, or simply employed by the bigger names.

    Superheroes were cut from the same cloth, even if they were nominally playing police rather than predator. Violent and dangerous to everyone around, impressed with their own power. Growing up in the foster care system had shown him that the people in charge were mostly out for themselves. Even the foster housing had turned out to be a coldly calculated public relations campaign.

    The waiting shopping cart had a bottle of water and some wet wipes, which were used to get rid of heavy makeup, leaving a young man in rumpled, mismatched clothing instead of a supervillainess. Isaac opened the cases, dumping the contents into a garbage bag, which went into the shopping cart, and then tossed the cases into the culvert outside the stairwell. When he emerged from the stairwell himself, he looked like any other homeless man in Star City.

    He pushed his shopping cart through the parking garage, which was old enough to lack the ever-present surveillance in the nicer parts of the city, and when he was satisfied that he was alone he opened the trunk on an old beater car and shoved the garbage bag in. Closing the car again, he continued pushing the shopping cart. His route took him out of the garage and around to the intersection where he took out a cardboard anything helps sign.

    The whim he¡¯d had to try out theatre as a kid had turned out to pay dividends. Acting was useful, as was being able to spot people who were, themselves, acting. Isaac wouldn¡¯t consider himself any great master at it, but a surprising number of people just never bothered looking past the obvious. Which was why he was making himself obviously harmless.

    The disguise wasn¡¯t entirely safe; not because he thought he¡¯d get caught but because homeless beggars were organized. Isaac didn¡¯t know which supervillain it was, but it was obvious the moment anyone took a closer look at their too-uniform signs and mysterious ability to get to high traffic areas at peak times. His chosen corner, on the other hand, was out of the way and only needed to serve for a few hours.

    A pair of heroes flashed past as he was still trying to get comfortable ¡ª or as comfortable as he could be in thirdhand clothes on a street corner. One flying, one on the ground, both far faster than human speed. They completely ignored him, no doubt searching for the brand-new villainess that had been in no database. There were certainly supers who could have tracked him, but he hadn¡¯t even robbed the whole truck. Most of the top level heroes had better things to do than account for some idiot villainess grabbing a few hundred thousand credits worth of softchips.

    Isaac stayed on the street corner for a good three hours and accumulated exactly zero donations, despite his hangdog look and rough clothing. The closest he came was a trio of gangers shoving him over and upturning his shopping cart before going on their way. Acting like a harmless, homeless bum turned out to be harder than acting like an idiot teenage villainess. He could have easily thrashed the gangers, but that would have just made his life harder. Maybe even gotten a low-level meta called in, either hero or villain.

    Once the shadows stretched all the way across the street, he returned the shopping cart to his beater car, popping it apart by taking off a few screws. Even if he had just robbed an armored truck, he wasn¡¯t about to litter the streets by leaving a cart out where someone could drive into it. Isaac wasn¡¯t that much of a villain.

    The car clattered and grumbled on the way home, the old ¡®832 Odelle rattling with the same not-quite-disrepair as it had for the past decade. Twice on the drive he saw supers, once on the streets and once in the skies, going about whatever it was that had caught Star Central¡¯s attention. Distant sirens blared, then fell silent, but the car¡¯s radio had long been broken so he could merely wonder.

    He pulled into the cramped parking lot of his apartment complex, taking a moment to shove the garbage bag into a more normal-looking gym bag and then hiked up the stairs to the third floor. Letting himself in, he took a moment to breathe and ensure he was carrying himself normally before crossing into the common room where his roommate was tapping away at a computer. Isaac probably didn¡¯t need to, given how deeply Cayleb was involved with his work, but there was never telling what a tinker talent might notice.

    ¡°Hey, man,¡± Isaac called, finally relaxing. It actually took some effort to not seem too giddy, as he¡¯d finally taken the first steps he needed. Planning, thinking, and hoping were one thing, but actually crossing the line into action was another. Though admittedly, it was only a small bit of action, the robbery serving only to empower his brother in all but name.

    Cayleb swiveled his entire body around on his padded chair; the tinker¡¯s superpower had also given him a double-sized head, so he couldn¡¯t actually turn his neck, not against the brace that supported the oversized cranium. He gave Isaac a broad grin, clearly in a good mood even for him.

    ¡°Yo, man!¡± Cayleb said, lifting a hand. ¡°You just missed a super fight.¡±

    ¡°What, someone fighting here?¡± Isaac said, a sudden flush of alarm running up his spine. One of the reasons he¡¯d chosen the apartment block was that it was near to territory run by one of his targets, but he had thought it was far enough away to avoid the low-level supervillain gang wars that were a constant feature of the rougher parts of Star City.

    ¡°Nah, over by your hospital,¡± Cayleb said, swiveling back to poke at his tinker-rigged computer setup, a nest of wires and monitors. A video came up of several flying supers slugging it out with floating mechanical spheres in the sky, energy beams drawing blue and white lines. It didn¡¯t last long, but a blur at the bottom of the screen showed one of the spheres leaving the hospital at high speed. Whoever had sent them clearly got what they came for.

    ¡°Professor Mechaniacal¡¯s work, but not his modus operandi,¡± Cayleb enthused, waving a finger at the monitor. ¡°It¡¯s too loud and too small-scale. Someone must have found one of his stashes. Bet they¡¯re going to get in so much trouble when Mechaniacal finds them.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t scare me like that man,¡± Isaac asked, slapping Cayleb on the shoulder. ¡°I know we¡¯re both metas but any real superfight is going to crush us.¡± Cayleb swiveled slightly to look at him and made a slight movement of his head, the good humor in his eyes dimming for a second.

    Both of them were just one of hundreds of children who had ended up orphaned by one particular superfight, almost twenty years ago. The school panic rooms had remained intact, but not much else had in a twenty-block radius. It was one of the biggest death tolls in Star City¡¯s history, but the villain in question had never been caught. Instead, Blacktime and his people still flouted Star Central¡¯s rule and, pragmatically, controlled most of the crime in the Five City Alliance.

    Unlike Isaac, Cayleb didn¡¯t let the thought get him down for long. He just shrugged and continued onward, an attitude that made it clear Isaac was right not to actually read Cayleb in on future plans. Frankly, the guy was a born hero, easygoing and positive, and not at all cut out with the sort of skullduggery involved with supervillains. Such as how Blacktime was actually the lover of the other member of that superfight, at least according to rumor. Glorybeam certainly seemed to hang around the area Blacktime operated more than she should, at least.

    ¡°Anyway,¡± Isaac said, brushing aside his own comment. ¡°Who¡¯s this Mechaniacal? Never heard of him.¡± That was actually true, despite Isaac knowing a lot about Supers ¡ª admittedly, not as a fan in the way Cayleb often was.

    ¡°Mechaniacal is an old school villain, his tinker stuff doesn¡¯t even use electricity! Complete mystery origin, people think he might even be extradimensional.¡± Cayleb laughed, rubbing his bald and oversized head. He had no hair at all, despite being actually younger than Isaac. ¡°Man, his stuff is slick. I¡¯d love to pick his brain.¡±

    ¡°I can just bet,¡± Isaac laughed. ¡°Hey man, lemme grab a shower, then you can run the footage for me,¡± he said, hefting the gym bag as an excuse. Cayleb waved a dismissal, turning back to his monitors, and Isaac ducked into his own room, shoving the pilfered softchips under his bed.

    Much of the room was taken up by scraps of material and a few full costumes ¡ª a couple reproductions of fictional metas, and one game character. Some people liked to cosplay as actual supers, but Isaac had always thought that was just asking for legal entanglements. Star Central was understandingly protective of its superhero images ¡ª and aping supervillains was just not a good idea regardless.

    He grabbed his towel and bypassed his costuming work to pull out some ordinary clothes before heading to the shower to complete his cover story ¡ª and chew over his next move. Isaac wasn¡¯t so dumb as to think he had a chance of actually taking out Blacktime or anyone at that level, since ultimately he wasn¡¯t that powerful a meta. The local gang leader and one of Blacktime¡¯s lieutenants was another matter.

    Crash Hardiron ¨C and didn¡¯t that just say everything anyone needed to know about the guy ¨C was, so far as Isaac could tell from his research, an old friend of Blacktime¡¯s. Someone who would have dirt, connections, and other things that Isaac could use against people. Not himself necessarily, but selling it to rival gangs or the media would be enough. It wasn¡¯t necessary to kill Blacktime or Glorybeam to topple them.

    But to even think about touching someone like Crash, Isaac needed support. He wasn¡¯t going to pull Cayleb into his actual activities, but tinker work was necessary for someone with a low-level talent like Isaac. Armor and weapons were obvious, but transportation, communication, and fabrication were probably more useful. Isaac had already spent years on costume work, so leaning into that was probably for the best.

    When he opened the door again, he heard voices out in the living room, ones he didn¡¯t recognize. Despite the fact that it was probably nothing, given that there was no yelling and Isaac was pretty sure Cayleb¡¯s chair had weapons, it was still unexpected enough to send a jolt down Isaac¡¯s spine. He held onto his towel, charging inertia into it just in case it was needed and walked out the short hallway into the room, then froze.

    There were two supers in full uniform. He vaguely recognized them, but the uniforms had an insignia everyone knew; Star Central¡¯s signature golden-rayed icon. One was clearly a tech type, an albino man with a cybernetic slimsuit and what seemed to be mechanical eyes, while the other was probably a bruiser given her oversized gauntlets.

    ¡°Isaac Hartson, D-Class Strength-type power,¡± the cyborg muttered dismissively, returning his regard to Cayleb. The bruiser eyed him a moment longer, but also didn¡¯t seem much interested.

    ¡°Hey, Isaac!¡± Cayleb said, completely oblivious to the super¡¯s attitudes. ¡°Cyberlocution there snagged my drone from the hospital fight and thinks I¡¯ve got what it takes to work for Central!¡±

    ¡°Oh, wow, bro!¡± Isaac forced himself to speak as normally as he could, now that it seemed that they weren¡¯t there about his earlier theft. The mask he used at work slipped into place, something less confrontational and slightly duller than he was at home. A slight slump of the shoulders, a bit of droop to the eyes, and a certain set to his jaw made people see him as quite a bit dimmer than he actually was. It was especially hard since he had to force down his frustration at the timing; he never would have risked the robbery if he¡¯d known Cayleb was going to get that kind of offer. ¡°That¡¯s a hell of an offer. Congrats, man!¡±

    ¡°Heck yeah!¡± Cayleb said cheerfully. ¡°Imagine all the toys I¡¯ll get to work with!¡±

    ¡°You would be beholden to a certain degree of security, Mister Ruston,¡± Cyberlocution said to Cayleb, as if in an attempt to repress Cayleb¡¯s usual cheer.

    ¡°Oh, sure, sure. Not a problem,¡± Cayleb said. ¡°When do I start?¡±

    ¡°Immediately,¡± the bruiser grunted. ¡°We¡¯ve got a van inbound.¡± Isaac nearly rolled his eyes at the word choice, figuring that the super was ex-military. Or maybe she just read too many books.

    ¡°Oh. Oh, I see,¡± Cayleb said, his cheer disappearing as the potential suddenly became immediate. Isaac pursed his lips for a moment, then crossed over to clap Cayleb on the shoulder, not missing how both supers tracked him very closely as he did so.

    ¡°Hey man, it¡¯s going to be great,¡± he said. He personally didn¡¯t trust any of the supers, no matter what their designation was, but a tinker just couldn¡¯t get by in a cramped, low-income apartment. Cayleb was practically a brother, and Isaac wasn¡¯t going to let him ruin his chances with cold feet or just because it was personally inconvenient. ¡°They¡¯ll probably have something better than a neck brace for that giant noggin of yours, too. Just remember your pal Isaac when you¡¯re tinkering up supercars or something, eh?¡±

    ¡°Hah! Yeah, don¡¯t worry about that, man,¡± Cayleb said, thumping his chest in a salute that he¡¯d picked up from one of the Tech Legion¡¯s commanders. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure I make you some good stuff.¡±

    Cyberlocution politely waved Isaac away and produced a small packet from a pouch at his waist, eyes glowing before he pressed it against Cayleb¡¯s chest. In a moment it expanded outward into a cybernetic suit, but one that wrapped around Cayleb¡¯s oversized cranium. Cayleb blinked, and then stood ¡ª something he didn¡¯t do often. His grin somehow got even wider.

    It didn¡¯t take much more time from there. Some very professional movers bustled in, secured all of Cayleb¡¯s belongings, and bustled out in less than five minutes. Cyberlocution and the bruiser whose name Isaac still didn¡¯t know stood impatiently as Cayleb shook Isaac¡¯s hand, looking about as numb as Isaac felt. They¡¯d been roommates for over a decade, even back when they were teens in the system, and it was all over in the span of maybe twenty minutes.

    The two supers bustled Cayleb away, leaving the apartment much emptier. Isaac retreated to his room and dropped into his bed, letting out a long breath as he tried to relax. Cyberlocution had probably marked how nervous he was the entire time, but hopefully only the amount of nervousness anyone would have with two members of Star Central invading their personal space.

    Without the constant hum of Cayleb¡¯s machinery the apartment was eerily silent, but Isaac couldn¡¯t sit and stew. Things may have changed instantly for his roommate, but Isaac still had work the next day, bills to pay, and rent to make. Not to mention a hundred thousand credits of stolen softchip to somehow liquidate.

    The last thought really made it hit home, for some reason. He¡¯d planned the heist in secret for months, tested his powers where nobody was watching, and planned on ways to present the loot to Cayleb. Yet it had turned out to be entirely useless; his first great crime rendered without a point.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± he told himself aloud, making a tossing-away gesture with one hand as if he could physically discard his worries. ¡°I¡¯ll figure it out tomorrow.¡±

    His shift at the hospital was just the same as any other. Saint Anne¡¯s served supers in addition to normal, and so it had some exceedingly heavy equipment that it was his job to move around. Isaac was little more than a glorified janitor, allowed to handle the megacredit machines simply because his so-called strength power came with a lot of finesse. He ran no risk of breaking anything when he moved it around, even when he was irritated.

    ¡°Come on, Isaac, we don¡¯t have all day!¡± Mister Graham said from the doorway of the freight elevator, as if he weren¡¯t responsible for scheduling and sending people out to shift equipment. Graham was a C-class psychometry super, something verging on technopathy, perfect for making sure that none of the scanners or bracers or regenerators were damaged or broken. He was also an A-class pain in the ass, taking all the credit and none of the blame for the maintenance and janitorial department and resulting in Isaac¡¯s nearly-nonexistent raises.

    In a way, Isaac was fine with that. Janitors were invisible, and that gave him more latitude to move around ¡ª and access to the hospital gave him more opportunity to find out about supers. But it wasn¡¯t like he would had much of a choice, either. Just being registered as a meta, even D-grade, closed a lot of doors, requiring overhead most normal employers would wish to avoid, and as a low grade super with, at least to the assessors, a simple strength ability, he didn¡¯t have any talents in great demand.

    The only other place he might have found a use was in construction ¨C there was plenty of that, thanks to the occasional destruction wrought by supervillains ¨C but that didn¡¯t appeal to him. More, it might expose his actual talent, which he certainly didn¡¯t want. Not only did he want to avoid being recruited by either heroes or villains, but that kind of scrutiny would make it harder for him to operate. Lacking any kind of stealth ability, he had remain anonymous.

    ¡°Coming, Mister Graham,¡± Isaac said patiently, in his persona as just another dumb strength meta, maneuvering the empty shell of a one-ton energy scanner through the halls so it could be returned to the maintenance area. The ruined device was one of the casualties of the previous day¡¯s supervillain raid, which had scavenged the components of a number of medical devices, most of which he was slowly ferrying down to the workshops in the basement.

    The ease with which he could move the shell around was thanks to his power, which wasn¡¯t actually strength. It was inertia, the resistance of something to a change in motion. Speeding up or slowing down. He couldn¡¯t do anything about gravity, since that was a constant acceleration, and the fact that he couldn¡¯t lift anything big was why he was a solid D-class power. But dropping the inertia of something huge down to near-nothing meant he could push heavy things very easily, put them around corners without effort, and wouldn¡¯t hurt a wall or a person if he rammed them.

    Even better, he could treat anything he invested with inertia as possessing either its original inertia or his changed amount. If push came to shove he could brace himself against the scanner shell as if it really were five tons, rather than the far lower inertia he¡¯d given it. Or when it came to things like his painted foam armor, he could move it as foam rather than push against the sheer amount of inertial resistance he¡¯d invested into it. The temporary borrowing and redistribution of inertia had no such benefits, and he rarely used because it was just so troublesome.

    Isaac rode the elevator down and maneuvered the shell into the maintenance bay, where Graham would almost certainly complain about it for some reason, and then went off to shift some tinker-made traction frame into one of the secure rooms. Someone was bringing a supervillain into the hospital, it seemed, as that was all those rooms were meant for.

    It wasn¡¯t his business though, so he just kept his head down and went about his work. It wasn¡¯t worth getting noticed, even by his immediate superior, and it wasn¡¯t like there was a lack of scut-work to do. Sweeping, mopping, polishing, and general fetching and carrying. Stuff that kept him essentially invisible, which was how he liked it. He¡¯d seen how often metas got picked up by one group or another, with very little choice on the part of the man or woman being recruited, and his goals were too important for that kind of thing.

    His job kept him busy for the next few weeks, during which he went about the ticklish business of fencing the softchips while he waited for word from Cayleb. One of the advantages of being near gang-controlled territory was that black markets were sure to exist, though he hadn¡¯t ever engaged with it himself. Fortunately, he did know some people from the foster home that had gone in that direction, and a few calls to some old contacts set up a meeting.

    Isaac dug through his clothes and costume scraps, putting together the proper outfit. A heavy jacket, even if it was starting to get warmer as spring wound onward; pants with chains. The blue and white armband that gangers used, even if he wasn¡¯t one. He even used some gel to slick back his short, dark hair, which he thought made him look like an idiot but was the style the local gangers used. Finally, he used one of his cosmetic pens to give himself a fake tattoo along his jaw; nothing fancy, but enough that he didn¡¯t look entirely baby-faced.

    Only once he was fully equipped did he set out, pushing inertia into his clothes as he walked the streets with the adolescent swagger of the ganger. He was a little older then most, a few years past twenty, but still could pull off the young-man¡¯s sneer. A few loitering pedestrians glanced his way, but nobody dared to bother him as he strolled up to the run-down gas station where he was supposed to meet his contact.

    Kevin was a former friend and a meta with the very unfortunate feature of having metal blades for forearms. It was the kind of thing that made him practically unemployable and so Isaac didn¡¯t much blame him for falling in with a supervillain gang, even if it was an obviously stupid decision. At least with the gangers he had some kind of worth and something like an income.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    The other meta was easy enough to pick out as Isaac approached the gas station, steel-colored arms bare despite the colder weather. Compact, wiry, with a long face framed by dirty blond hair, a weak chin, and the twitchy, glazed look of the drug addict. Isaac was glad that he¡¯d figured out a way to make himself resistant to things like bullets and blades, since he didn¡¯t trust that Kevin wouldn¡¯t jump him. Or even accidentally hit him with razor-sharp edges.

    ¡°Yo, Kevin.¡± Isaac strolled up, getting all the way into Kevin¡¯s personal space the way a superior ganger might and looking down at the man. Kevin took a step back, eyes clearing from the drug-induced haze and taking in Isaac¡¯s posture. ¡°Long time, no see,¡± Isaac continued, barging forward and keeping the posture of the arrogant superior. Not that he had anything against Kevin, but there was no trusting anyone in the employ of a supervillain.

    ¡°Hey, uh, Isaac¡­¡± Kevin trailed off, not sure how to deal with Isaac¡¯s sneer. For his part, Isaac had to ruthlessly quash any empathy. If he wanted to sell off the softchips in any kind of timeframe, he needed to deal with criminals, and criminals were dangerous.

    ¡°Y¡¯said y¡¯had a contact.¡± Isaac loomed over Kevin, even if the blade meta was actually an inch or so taller. Clearly Keven was a bruiser, not a leader in the gangs, otherwise he might have actually stood up to Isaac¡¯s swagger.

    ¡°Oh, uh, yeah!¡± Kevin nodded convulsively. ¡°Yeah, I can introduce you to Kleppy.¡±

    ¡°By all means, lead the way,¡± Isaac said, not budging from where he stood. Kevin blinked at him again, then seemed to get the hint and circled around Isaac, glancing back two or three times in the span of a couple seconds. Isaac strolled after him, hands in pockets. He kept his back straight, acting like he owned the street, but his hands were wrapped around a couple of brass knuckles that he¡¯d stuffed into his jacket. With his abilities, he could pack a pretty mean punch.

    A few minutes of walking along dirty streets brought them to a pawn shop with bars on the windows and a bright sign proclaiming that they bought anything. Which was a place Isaac could have found himself, but hopefully with an actual introduction he could do more than just try to liquidate the softchips at one-tenth cost. Inside, it seemed the proprietor was ordinary enough, but not all metas were obvious and Isaac kept the inertia invested in his clothing just in case.

    ¡°Heeey, Kleppy. Got someone who wants to do business,¡± Kevin said, trying to match Isaac¡¯s swagger as if he were actually important.

    ¡°Oh yeah?¡± Kleppy squinted at Isaac from a tanned and wrinkled face, the guy looking like he¡¯d been dealing with shady customers for at least sixty years. ¡°What have you got?¡±

    ¡°Softchips,¡± Isaac said, withdrawing a sheet of the stuff from his pockets. They were packaged like pills, in perforated eight-by-sixteen plastic trays. He¡¯d only brought a quarter of what he pilfered, just in case, and the way that Kleppy¡¯s deeply-lined face lit up with avarice confirmed that was the right choice.

    ¡°How many you got?¡± Kleppy asked, holding out a hand. Isaac didn¡¯t hand over the merchandise. A thug might, but Isaac was playing a smart thug and should be more careful.

    ¡°How much are you paying?¡± Isaac countered, returning the sheet to his pockets and looking down his nose at Kleppy. It wasn¡¯t just an act either, since the entire point of the trip was the money. There was definitely a point at which it would be better to sell them at an online auction, even if it would take a very long time to offload them if he wanted to avoid suspicion.

    ¡°Ten per,¡± Kleppy said, and Isaac just turned around. Kleppy wasn¡¯t taking things seriously, since softchips were usually closer to a hundred and fifty creds secondhand. More, when they were fresh in the packaging like they were. He¡¯d gotten two steps toward the door when Kleppy¡¯s voice came again. ¡°Hey, I¡¯m just kidding! I can pay ninety for them.¡±

    Isaac paused, turning around to look at Kleppy and raising his brows while Kevin hovered uncertainly. After a moment Isaac extracted two sheets from his pocket and held them up, showing them to Kleppy.

    ¡°One-twenty,¡± Isaac said, no humor in his voice.

    ¡°Best I can do is ninety-five,¡± Kleppy said, eyeing the softchips.

    ¡°One-ten, but I¡¯ll provide a minimum of four sheets at once.¡± That was half a box, five hundred twelve, as softchips were sold in powers of two. Kleppy chewed on nothing in particular for a bit, focused on the softchips in Isaac¡¯s hand, then shrugged. ¡°One hundred, and four sheets at once.¡±

    ¡°Done,¡± Isaac said, able to do the math easily enough, and the two boxes would net him enough for a reasonable nest egg without breaking into the amounts of money that would draw serious attention. He took out the last two sheets from his pocket and held them out, although he was still expecting some attempt to cheat him. Maybe Kleppy would just grab them and refuse to pay.

    Surprisingly, the shifty-looking man actually unlocked a cabinet underneath the counter and extracted the required credsticks, placing them on the counter and stowing the softchips in the same place. Isaac figured that Kleppy was used to dealing with metas, who wouldn¡¯t be particularly forgiving if Kleppy welched on them. Or maybe it was just the promise of future product.

    ¡°Hey, you gonna have more?¡± Kleppy asked, while Kevin hung on every word for some reason.

    ¡°Probably,¡± Isaac said, refusing to make a commitment, and turned to leave. This time nobody stopped him, though Kevin tagged along behind. For all that Isaac had known Kevin once upon a time, he definitely didn¡¯t want a drugged-up meta following him around, so Isaac popped a couple of tabs off the smallest credstick and tossed them over.

    ¡°For your help,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Enjoy.¡± Kevin pocketed the money, looked at Isaac and worked his jaw for a moment.

    ¡°Hey man, I got ¡ª I got a dealer for Fasttab. Makes everything seem so slow, like whoosh.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Isaac said, giving Kevin a scornful look that was mostly real. There was just no way he was going to join a junkie on a drug run. ¡°I stay clean,¡± he said, and waved the other meta off. Kevin frowned but scurried away after a moment, heading down the street deeper into gang territory. Isaac went the other way, keeping up the swagger so nobody thought about jumping him after clearly doing some business with the fence. Even if he looked like a ganger, that didn¡¯t make him safe, and it didn¡¯t require meta powers to slip a knife in someone¡¯s ribs or hit them over the head with a pipe.

    His brisk, purposeful walk deterred any scavengers from trying to approach him, and marching into a slightly better area of the city shed the pair of gangers following him. He ducked into an alley, taking a plastic bag from his pocket and removing his jacket and the chains from his pants, shoving them both in the bag and then ruffling his hair. An alcohol wipe got rid of the tattoo, and he relaxed his stance to the slight hunch of his janitor persona. When he emerged a few second later, he was obviously not a ganger, and was then more comfortable headed home.

    Some might have thought he was being overly cautious, but Isaac had been at the hospital long enough, and done enough research, to know how dangerous supervillains could be. Or for that matter, superheroes. They were all, without exception, brutal mercenaries who didn¡¯t think twice about destruction and death.

    When he got home, he checked his network accounts once again, still finding nothing from Cayleb. Which contributed to the growing unease and a gnawing feeling in the pit of Isaac¡¯s stomach, something that made his sleep restless and his job more irritating than ever. He went to work, returned home, went to work, returned home. Isaac had few friends outside his former roommate, and with Cayleb¡¯s status in flux it was hard to make any plans.

    Isaac returned to Kleppy¡¯s pawn shop three more times over the next two weeks, liquidating the remainder of the softchips. He used his ganger persona each time, sauntering fearlessly down the street, and nobody dared mess with him. Nobody called his bluff, either, which was fortunate since he wouldn¡¯t have been able to really fake being in Crash¡¯s gang.

    At the end of the third week after the superheroes recruited his friend, Isaac finally got a message from Cayleb. Yet he just felt a sense of foreboding as he clicked the item in his inbox, which had the header of whoops!

    Hey Isaac! If you¡¯re reading this I haven¡¯t been around to stop my dead man¡¯s switch from going off, or maybe I just forgot. If I forgot, feel free to slap me about the head. If I¡¯m not around, well, I¡¯m sure you know more about what¡¯s going on than I do. On the off chance someone needs a will, just send all my tinker stuff to Techbro, and you can have everything else.

    Isaac stared at the message, simple as it was, and felt the bile on his tongue. He rose from his computer, went to the bathroom, and spat, washing out his mouth and then chugging a glass of water. His thoughts spun pointlessly for a few minutes, his hands pouring himself another glass of water of their own accord, which downed before he turned to leave the apartment. There was only one thing he could think to do.

    In all his time in Star City he¡¯d never visited Star Central. Even when he was a kid at the children¡¯s home, despite Star Central actually funding the home, there¡¯d never been a trip out there. The enormous tower loomed in the middle of the city, taking up a full block and fifty stories tall, a pillar of white metal and dark glass, housing the superheroes that protected Star City from villains and the depredations of the world at large. For all that, the lot where Isaac parked his old, beat-up car was just like any other, if occupied by a higher class of vehicle than he normally saw.

    Isaac looked both ways before crossing the road and headed for the front doors, noting that there were more metas ¨C or properly, supers ¨C in evidence than anywhere else in the city. A sentinel inside, figures flying to and from balconies high up on the building, and there was almost certainly a tinker or two behind the slick, low-profile camera bubbles that were dotted all over the building.

    He was in his janitor persona, hair slightly unkempt, with a hunch to his shoulders and a droop to his eyelids. It put him at the bottom-most rung of the kinds who frequented Star Central, who seemed to be mostly individuals in suits or designer dresses. Or, of course, costumes.

    A gust of wind hit him just before he went inside, cold air seeming to blow right through his jacket. The interior was warm though, perfectly climate controlled as might be expected, spotless and populated with more metas than Isaac had seen in one place before. Mostly they were clustered around a desk with a sign above it labeled Tasks and Bounties, presumably loitering to wait for something they could fulfill, but many were entering or leaving a personnel-only area at the far side. Isaac ignored all that and crossed to the information desk, standing in line and tapping his fingers impatiently against his pockets.

    ¡°Can I help you?¡± A listless meta drawled, a third eye on her forehead managing to look just as bored as the rest of her.

    ¡°Uhh..¡± Isaac affected uncertainty, even if he¡¯d rehearsed dozens of lines in his mind. ¡°So, a friend of mine was recruited a few weeks ago? And I haven¡¯t heard from him,¡± Isaac explained, although he very much doubted that he¡¯d get anything useful from the receptionist. ¡°His name¡¯s Cayleb. Cayleb Ruston. Is he doing okay?¡±

    ¡°One moment,¡± the secretary said, still bored, and tapped at her computer. Then tapped again, as Isaac bounced impatiently on his feet, trying to ignore the taste of anxiety in his own saliva.

    ¡°Mister Ruston is on a classified project.¡± The voice came not from a secretary, but from a woman that had somehow appeared at Isaac¡¯s back. He whirled around before he could suppress his own reaction, eyeing a tall, busty super in a faceless black-and-gold armor with the icon of Star Central on both her shoulders. Glorybeam herself. ¡°You are Isaac Hartson. You work at Saint Anne¡¯s Metahuman Hospital.¡± It wasn¡¯t a question.

    ¡°Err. Yes.¡± Isaac said, gawking at the S-Class super and clinging desperately to his cover as a slightly dim janitor.

    ¡°Initial appraisal put you at D-Class, Strength type,¡± the woman said. ¡°I believe that may no longer be accurate. Methysia, schedule a follow-up appraisal for Mister Hartson on Monday.¡±

    ¡°Of course, Glorybeam,¡± the secretary replied, followed by the sound of keys rapidly striking a keyboard. ¡°Monday at noon.¡±

    ¡°Monday at noon,¡± Glorybeam said. ¡°Be there, Mister Hartson.¡±

    ¡°I, uh, okay then,¡± Isaac replied, although he was already trying to figure out how to get out of it. Whether Cayleb was perfectly fine and just isolated, or had been consumed by something terrible within Star Central, Isaac wouldn¡¯t be able to do what he wanted if the supers got their hands on him. No freedom, and certainly no accountability for either the supervillains or Cayleb. Not that he was going to give up, but for right now, it was time to leave.

    Isaac Hartson needed to disappear.

    <hr>

    Body of Words

    Blurb: Marcus and Cynthia, historian and linguist, are explorers of ruins ¨C the ruins of civilizations thousands of years old, out among the stars. Arriving on a new world isn¡¯t unusual for them, but that world having magic certainly is. The goal is straightforward: get back home. The path there certainly is not. The pair to contend with the native civilizations, which are powerful and dangerous in their own right, as well as the relic technology of the civilization that opened the way to this world in the first place.

    Author¡¯s Comments: In some ways the protagonists are from the same world as SDE, posthumans with some flourishes. But unlike SDE, we¡¯re working with magic. This is a breadth-oriented progression fantasy with some scifi elements. The magic system is pretty discrete and relatively low-powered, to avoid some of the inevitable cultivation world elements it¡¯d otherwise create.

    Chapter 1 ¨C Tipler

    ¡°This should really be a black hole.¡±

    Marcus stared through the viewscreen of the runabout Where There¡¯s A Whip There¡¯s A Way as it approached what looked to be an ordinary human habitat in the classic O¡¯Neill mold. A pair of counter-rotating cylinders, looking like they were made out of some silvery-matte metal hung in space, far from any star or planet. The visual was misleading, since the gravity readings they¡¯d taken from some light-years out confirmed there were thousands of stellar masses there ¡ª except none of it was in evidence close in.

    ¡°There¡¯s only one thing I can think it¡¯s made of,¡± Navigator Merle said over the commlink, pausing dramatically. The rest of the crew back on the main ship, the exploratory vessel The Well Known Jones, jeered at Merle¡¯s theatrics.

    ¡°Well?¡± Cynthia asked, Marcus¡¯ wife being the only other one on the Whip. ¡°We¡¯re the ones who are headed in there, Merle. Don¡¯t tease me!¡±

    ¡°Fine, fine,¡± Merle said, waving a tentacle from the viewscreen. As a four-ton cephalopod, her gestures were always expressive, by sheer scale if nothing else. ¡°I think it¡¯s a cosmic string.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a physicist, but even I know that¡¯s silly,¡± Marcus said dryly. A cosmic string wasn¡¯t even a physical object as such, just a one-dimensional flaw in spacetime from the birth of the universe.

    ¡°That might explain the spectral analysis though,¡± Pilot Meck said with clear reluctance, his two-dimensional avatar pacing across the viewscreen. ¡°It¡¯s the weirdest damn thing I¡¯ve ever seen, flat all the way across.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that makes me feel so much better,¡± Cynthia said with a laugh. She wasn¡¯t physically present in the cockpit with Marcus, but rather resting in a small implant in the brain of bioengineered body Marcus was wearing. Unlike the rest of the crew she wasn¡¯t actually biologically based, but rather a natural-born AI.

    ¡°Mysterious megastructure, made out of impossible materials, which can¡¯t be explored remotely?¡± Marcus laughed, as the material blocked the signals from the drones they¡¯d sent to survey it, meaning it required more than some simple programming to map the interior. ¡°It¡¯s exciting, but there¡¯s a reason we use backups.¡±

    The pair of them were not just on the Whip, but also back on the Jones. Nobody explored relics left behind by human ¨C or alien ¨C civilizations without at least that contingency. For all that they loved their work, everyone on the Jones knew how dangerous relic technology could be. The Jones had explored hundreds of ruins over thousands of years, and had run into lethal response more than once. Captain Dromall had even needed to rebuild the Jones from scratch ¨C and restore everyone from backup ¨C twice.

    ¡°True, but keep yourself safe,¡± Dromall ordered. ¡°And make sure you take plenty of recordings, dammit. I don¡¯t want another incident where there¡¯s only some EyeCam footage of a priceless historical relic before it falls apart.¡±

    ¡°Hey, you try keeping focus when you¡¯re being assaulted by fish!¡± Merle protested. ¡°Besides, it was your idea for me to be the first one down to that ocean moon!¡±

    Marcus chuckled as the crew of the Jones continued to bicker good-naturedly, steering the Whip with gentle taps on the controls. This close to the Jones and to unknown artifacts, the only propulsion they dared use was cold-gas, meaning the trip between the exploration vessel and their target was not a short one. Nor was it purely ballistic, as despite entire suns worth gravity being somehow offset so close to the artifact, there were still some bobbles here and there that he had to correct for.

    ¡°I wonder if it was never decorated, or all the decorations got worn off the cosmic string material?¡± Cynthia mused as the shuttle drifted toward the habitat. ¡°I imagine it¡¯s practically indestructible.¡±

    So far there hadn¡¯t been a need for either his or Cynthia¡¯s specialties, as there were no markings or symbols for either an historian or a linguist to decipher. While Marcus had a thorough knowledge of much of humanity¡¯s spread across the stars, something as simple as an O¡¯Neill cylinder didn¡¯t tell him much, especially one so shorn of details.

    ¡°Merle, was there a supernova or something in the area in the past, oh, twenty or thirty thousand years?¡± Marcus asked. There was no telling how old the artifact might be, but he had a sneaking suspicion it was human. One of the problems with being some fifty thousand years behind the furthest frontier of expansion was that many of the ruins and artifacts they came across were relics of some long-ago colonization effort, from megastructures to cave drawings. Not that the galaxy was abandoned, but it was an extremely large place and active civilizations were few and far between.

    ¡°Looks like there could have been a nearby gamma-ray burster four thousand years ago,¡± Merle volunteered, and Marcus gestured triumphantly at the frosted-silver surface of the habitat. Even if such cataclysms wouldn¡¯t dent cosmic strings, they would certainly strip the paint.

    ¡°Well, hopefully we aren¡¯t looking at an artifact built by Sufficiently Advanced Morons,¡± Dromall said. ¡°Remember the Nothing Factory?¡± Everyone groaned. That particular relic was one of the most frustrating they¡¯d run across, as it was a clearly functioning machine, but there were no control surfaces, no symbology, no intake or output. Just something grinding away with no hint as to its true purpose.

    ¡°Well, at least this one opens up,¡± Meck said, as the habitat grew in the Whip¡¯s viewscreen. ¡°I¡¯m going to laugh if you can¡¯t get past the airlock, though.¡±

    ¡°Fair,¡± Marcus admitted, but that was why he was in his current body. Base human for the most part, some seven feet tall with long vantablack hair and electric blue eyes. Just a touch of engineering, enough to make it comfortable. Importantly, it was human, as many of the sensors left behind after thousands of years were at the lowest level and designed to detect a human presence.

    Of course, that detection could be anything. From basic mass and shape to heat, to electrical signals or genetic markers, respiration products, or acoustic analysis for heartbeat and blood flow. Everyone used different ones for different reasons, and the easiest way to try and trip them was simply to use a human frame. Of course, that wasn¡¯t a guarantee, but it worked often enough for a first try.

    ¡°Bah, if there¡¯s a network I can at least give it a try,¡± Cynthia said, as it wasn¡¯t just spoken languages Cynthia specialized in. It wasn¡¯t like anyone expected her to be able to compromise a clarketech system, but it was surprising how often just being able to ask work for things worked.

    Meck eased the Whip into place by the airlock, which was large enough to hold the little runabout and didn¡¯t require any of the extensive adaptation mechanisms the Whip carried. Marcus took it over for the final approach, as once it was inside the doors closed and cut them off from the Jones and their primary selves. The exterior cameras showed that there were markings on the walls of the airlock, and a set of squares that probably denoted tether areas for craft similar to the runabout. Lacking reason to do anything different, Marcus nudged the whip forward to align with one of the squares and shot out the Van der Waals tethers to hold it in place.

    Once the ship was stationary, air began to hiss into the sizeable airlock, and Marcus made a face at the composition.

    ¡°Oxy-nitrogen, bang on for base human. Dangit, I really was hoping for an alien relic this time.¡±

    ¡°What, clarketech isn¡¯t alien enough for you?¡± Cynthia asked with a laugh, her current avatar ¨C a leggy blonde kemonomimi of a species he didn¡¯t recognize ¨C lounging in the corner of his vision. ¡°Whoever produced this was probably about as far from normal human as any alien is likely to get.¡±

    ¡°You say that, but I say that we¡¯ll still find swear words and lewd graffiti in the corners if we look,¡± Marcus challenged.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take that bet.¡±

    ¡°You haven¡¯t won it yet,¡± Marcus warned her.

    ¡°Hope springs eternal,¡± she sighed.

    Lights on the far side of the airlock illuminated a set of doors, and Marcus unbuckled himself from the pilot¡¯s seat as Cynthia coaxed the Whip to disgorge their drones. A few dozen small, flying types were racked on a larger, mobile box that used Van der Waals tendrils to move itself about, able to operate in any environment. A surprising number of their excursions had been in microgravity.

    Marcus studied the symbols above each of the doors, concluding they were probably some sort of sequential designation ¨C not necessarily numbers, but something similar ¨C given that they were each denoted by a single glyph. Everything was recorded to the drone memory storage, to be eventually puzzled out. Choosing one at random, he stepped up to it and it opened for him, sliding sideways in a needlessly complex way for an airlock, but he couldn¡¯t complain too much.

    The hall beyond was off-white with bright blue stripes on each wall, lit by some indirect glow from the ceiling corners. Nothing special, so Marcus hurried along, drones in tow. At least the inner hull didn¡¯t cut off the signal the way the outer one did, so he still had a link back to the Whip. When he reached the end of the hall though, there was an elevator ¨C the design of which was similar no matter what technology was being used ¨C so he had one of the drones abandon its charges, smaller flight drones buzzing into the air as it stayed to be a relay point.

    ¡°You¡¯d think that after thousands of years, we¡¯d find better technology than push-buttons,¡± Cynthia mused as he poked the elevator call button, and the doors slid open.

    ¡°It¡¯s a little odd to see no digital screens anywhere,¡± Marcus agreed as he pulled himself inside a blue-striped box, finding that there were only two buttons, one above the other. ¡°But at least it¡¯s easy to interpret.¡± He poked the bottom button, the small aerial drones buzzing around him as the doors closed. There should have been holdfasts to keep from bumping into the ceiling of the elevator as it moved, but there was nothing ¡ª but neither did the elevator seem to accelerate.

    ¡°Is it broken?¡± He wondered aloud, which wouldn¡¯t be surprising given the age of artifact.

    ¡°Ping time to the relay is increasing,¡± Cynthia reassured him. ¡°We¡¯re going down, so I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on. Something clarketech-related, I¡¯m sure.¡±

    ¡°If they have artificial gravity, you¡¯d think they¡¯d use it on the residential areas,¡± Marcus mused, as the elevator slide along with nary a vibration. The strangeness continued as, despite descending toward the rotating inner surface of the cylinder, microgravity continued, all the way and including when the door opened again.

    There was no grand habitat, no central living area. Just another long hall, silver with blue stripes, stretching out however many miles. More doors lined the hall, each with a five-character code, but the codes themselves were unlit. It was the strangest habitat he¡¯d seen for certain, not fitting either residential or industrial uses, but there was clearly some purpose behind it.

    ¡°Definitely alphanumerical designations,¡± Cynthia mused as he floated forward. ¡°In fact it matches ¡ª¡± She was interrupted by both of them suddenly getting a slew of strange errors from the network, and he froze for a moment, clutching onto the handhold of his helper drone, while Cynthia worked at it.

    ¡°That is odd¡­¡± Cynthia muttered. ¡°Move forward a bit more?¡± Marcus complied, steering the drone another few inches along the hall. In response, Cynthia made grumbling noises as she worked before finally sighing. ¡°I think I know what¡¯s going on, but I also don¡¯t really believe it.¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound good,¡± Marcus observed, not really worried, because if it were serious the conversation would be much different. And likely be inside the Whip, having bailed on their current body.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have all the math for the theoretical framework of a Tipler cylinder, let alone this version of it, but so far as I can tell it¡¯s a little like the inner boundary of an event horizon. Space is time and time is space; relative time to the Whip and thus to the outside is almost entirely determined by how much space we traverse down here.¡±

    ¡°Huh,¡± Marcus said, chewing that over. He didn¡¯t know the equations either, and most of his knowledge of physics was merely by-the-way, but that didn¡¯t mean he was dumb. ¡°And we¡¯re floating because somehow offsetting the rotation is how the artifact keeps us from being flung about by our own relative time passing. I guess?¡±

    ¡°Or we could just be just making things up. This is all weird super-tech stuff,¡± Cyntha said with an exaggerated shrug. ¡°I sure couldn¡¯t say, and I won¡¯t even try. Just have to tweak the code a bit to account for the issue.¡±

    ¡°So long as it¡¯s nothing too bad,¡± Marcus said, drifting forward. The first dozen or so doors were closed, dark, powered down, but after that their alphanumeric labels were lit, and they opened at his approach. Each one opened into a truly enormous room that was, despite its side, devoid of anything but two features. Each of them had, side by side, two massive floor-to-ceiling pillars, one active, one inactive, to judge by the lights. After poking his head through seven active doors and finding the exact same features, he figured it was time to enter one.

    After making sure the pair of them were backed up on the Whip, Marcus pulled himself through the door and into the room, which had the same illumination as everywhere else. The drone pulled him along the floor toward the pillars, both of which were dark gray and decorated with white illuminated panels that probably had some sort of meaning, but looked abstract to him. Before touching either of them ¨C which was probably a bad idea but was why he had backups ¨C he circled around to inspect them. Each of them had an obvious, man-sized alcove at the rear, along with some genuine writing. While Cynthia still couldn¡¯t translate the writing from so few samples, the lines on the floor made it obvious that the active column was an entry and the inactive one was an exit.

    ¡°Shall we?¡± Marcus drifted toward the entrance alcove, ordering the other drone carrier to stay as a relay and directing a half-dozen of the atmospheric drones to attach themselves to his harness.

    ¡°Oh, let¡¯s,¡± Cynthia said. Marcus grinned and pushed off the drone, floating into the alcove. He expected some sort of elevator transport, perhaps even a clarketech version of the same. Instead there was a flash, and gravity returned ¡ª but everything else was different. Marcus fell five feet onto a slate roof, and rain washed over his helmet.

    ¡°The hell?¡± Cynthia said, a fast-forward warble as she shifted into a higher framerate. Marcus couldn¡¯t do that, but he slipped into crisis mode anyway, crouching down on the slippery stone as he looked around, trying to assess the surroundings for information and threats.

    While Marcus wasn¡¯t really a dedicated combatant ¨C they had Captain Dromall for that ¨C he wasn¡¯t an effete scholar, either. Crawling around the decaying remnants of ancient, spacefaring civilizations ¨C human or not ¨C was a dangerous task. His suit noted an oxy-nitrogen atmosphere, trace organics in line with human-base biology, while his eyes saw a dark, rain-swept village out of some old novel, tongue-and-groove wood with slate roofs. The rain and darkness blocked anything further, as it seemed to be night ¡ª and the only light came from burning buildings.

    ¡°HEAP,¡± Marcus said to Cynthia. ¡°We¡¯ve been dropped in a scenario.¡± Hostile Environment Adaptation Protocol was the somewhat oddly named collection of approaches meant for the astoundingly common situation of getting stuck in a virtual simulation, angelnet, or otherwise artificial construct of a world. It was a flip of a switch to consider everyone and everything in the environment as being purposely constructed to elicit particular behaviors from anyone inside it; essentially, a paranoia about the world¡¯s malevolence that presumed an intelligent agent controlling it all.

    ¡°Yeah, but I think this one might be real,¡± Cynthia replied after a second. ¡°Had connection for three nanoseconds after we arrived, which is about right for the timing delay of the alcove with. Space is time and time is space, after all. I think we got shunted into a Tipler Oracle, because all the timing issues just vanished. We¡¯re sideways to spacetime here.¡±

    ¡°Assuming that¡¯s true, that¡¯s actually really neat,¡± Marcus said, thinking it over. A Tipler Oracle was, at least theoretically, a pocket universe generally designed to run some infinite-computation problem in finite time, but there was no reason something else couldn¡¯t be done with the technology. Anyone who could weave cosmic strings into habitats could likely make such miracles if they wanted, and with the oddity of the Tipler Cylinder, make even more of a mockery of linear time.

    The exit, wherever it was, probably would put them out at the same moment they¡¯d entered; after all, space was time and time was space. The entrance had been probably been precisely sited specific point in spacetime, which implied some awful causal problems, but the Tipler Cylinder had already put them there so that was nothing new. ¡°All moot if we don¡¯t get back out of here to report back.¡±

    ¡°So let¡¯s see what¡¯s out there,¡± Cynthia said. They each took control of a drone, which were not exactly built for gusty, rainy weather, but smart enough to compensate. A feed popped up in a corner of Marcus¡¯ vision beyond the range of what his eyes fed him, linked into his visual cortex as the drones flitted out over the village.

    The buildings were laid out in concentric circles, with an honest-to-goodness outer palisade, and the buildings on fire described a wedge outward from an obvious entry point in the palisade. That was the broad overview, but Marcus was more interested in who actually lived in the village. His drone followed the sounds of shouting and splintering wood to the front of the band of burning buildings, where the cameras captured a number of what seemed like homo sapiens serthentis ¨C save for the wrong type of horns ¨C defending against someone much larger and more bestial. Gorilla sapiens lupathicas was the closest thing he could think of, but to put it more pragmatic terms, a giant gray-furred ogre was attacking a village of a bunch of deer-horned humans.

    While it wasn¡¯t guaranteed that the larger and less human-looking thing was, in fact, in the wrong, Marcus felt pretty confident in thinking that it needed to be taken care of. The serthentis were defending with, of all things, wooden spears, the efficacy of which was demonstrated when the lupathicas conjured a ball of fire and set one alight. Marcus sucked in a breath as he saw that.

    ¡°Angelnet, do you think?¡± Marcus muttered, not a stranger to some of the weirder simulations, emulations, and attempts at mysticism created by people with who found technology alone to be insufficient to the human spirit.

    ¡°Nothing on any spectrum I can reach,¡± Cynthia said. ¡°If there¡¯s any tech here, it¡¯s not using principles I know.¡±

    ¡°So, HEAP. I guess we¡¯re supposed to deal with this invader.¡± By the Protocols, in an artificial environment it was generally supposed that everything was fundamentally hostile, whether by direct physical violence or by manipulation and removal of choice. But until the parameters of the environment were obvious, following the given plot was the best choice. Not that Marcus would have been inclined to sit and watch a bunch of ordinary people get slaughtered by something three times their size that could, apparently, wield magic.

    ¡°I¡¯d help, but¡­¡± Cynthia¡¯s avatar waggled her fingers. ¡°We¡¯d need to figure out a way to get me into a frame.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re already helping, dear,¡± Marcus assured her, as she took over the drone piloting and he started running across the roofs. ¡°Just run overwatch.¡± Cynthia never did like combat, at least, engaging in it. Even though as an AI she ought to be able to run fast enough to out-think and out-maneuver most humans, she¡¯d just never had the knack for it.

    Rain slid off his suit as he jumped, surefooted despite the light and weather. While his frame was mostly normal human biology, it was still at the peak of what normal human biology could be after a few tens of thousands of years of tinkering. There was no point in going around in a frame that was less physically capable than was reasonable.

    In a matter of moments he¡¯d reached the buildings near the invader, and after a brief instant of consideration, he pulled a slate tile free from roof he was standing on. He gripped it like an ancient Olympic discus thrower and spun, arm snapping out. Ten pounds of pointed stone whirred through the air and smashed into the ogre¡¯s face.

    Marcus wasn¡¯t really a fan of combat, but Dromall had made sure everyone ran the sims enough to be able to function adequately, and some real world experience had cemented the need to act rather than dither. So when the first improvised projectile failed to actually bring down the ogre ¨C even though it would absolutely have dropped any unaugmented human ¡ª he had a second tile in the air while it was still staggered from the first.

    Two hefty blows to the face left it reeling, and it roared, summoning flame once again. Just in time for a tile to mangle that hand, which seemed to be a signal to the defenders. There were shouts and whistles and they suddenly mobbed the thing with their spears. Which fulfilled the long legacy of a pointed stick, and a puncture through the ogre¡¯s throat sent it down for good. Marcus winced at the gore, though he¡¯d seen worse.

    ¡°No ideas what they¡¯re saying yet,¡± Cynthia mused. ¡°I can guess the general gist, but I¡¯m going to need to hear a lot more to give you anything near an accurate translation. Phonemic, not tonal, and nothing unusual for human speech. Definitely larynx and not a syrinx.¡± That was reassuring, as the more divergent people got from base human, the harder it was to understand them.

    ¡°I¡¯d say they¡¯re a neo-primitivist civ, but the conjuring fire throws me. Also the, you know, pocket universe,¡± Marcus replied, watching as a few people who were clearly more wary or intelligent than the others looked his way. He¡¯d technically done them a favor, but he was also twice the height of any of them, definitely not their species, and of course dressed in a white pressure suit with his name stenciled across it, complete with clear helmet. Nothing like the plain cloth the deer-people had.

    ¡°So, odds that they attack?¡± Cynthia asked, not particularly worried. With the drones flying overwatch nobody could sneak up on them, and at worst Marcus could simply run away.

    ¡°Absolutely even.¡± On one hand, there was the recognition that he¡¯d contributed to their defense. On the other, there was the unavoidable fact that he was an outsider, an alien, and likely even more threatening than the thing that just burned down a swath of their village. Which way they¡¯d jump depended on too many factors to list.

    One of the men shouted at him, a few short, sharp syllables. Cynthia couldn¡¯t provide a translation, but Marcus could well guess what was meant by them. The angry, demanding tone conveyed quite enough all by itself.

    ¡°I have no idea what you¡¯re saying,¡± Marcus replied in a calm tone, spreading his hands to show he was unarmed. He was happy enough to talk, but wasn¡¯t the same as putting himself in the hands of a bunch of frightened people holding weapons. He and Cynthia might be backed up aboard the Whip, an entire universe away, but that didn¡¯t mean he had a death wish. Besides which, if he died he could never lord his little adventure over the rest of the crew.

    The man repeated the syllables, sharper and louder, thumping the spear he was carrying against the loose cobble of the village roads and then aiming the point down. Once again the meaning was clear enough, but Marcus wasn¡¯t that trusting. Especially when all the other people still clutched their spears, and the drone feeds showed more arriving through the curtains of rain.

    ¡°Still no idea,¡± Marcus said, keeping his voice calm and friendly. ¡°If you want to negotiate something, please calm down.¡± Of course the native had no idea what Marcus was saying either ¡ª Marcus spoke a few hundred languages but the Galax East he was using certainly had no connection with the Tipler Cylinder. It was the tone of voice and cadence that was important, and Galax East was a very soft sounding language, soothing to listen to by most human standards. Sadly, it did no good. A third repetition of unhappy instructions, and everyone¡¯s spears came up in very obvious threat.

    ¡°Well, time to leave,¡± Marcus said, and sprinted off into the rain-soaked night, rain smearing over his helmet. Cries came from behind him, but leaping from roof to roof in the darkness, he far outpaced the natives, and even leaping over the palisade was no problem. In fact, it was almost too easy.

    ¡°If this is a contrived scenario, there might explicitly be different routes,¡± Cynthia mused. ¡°If the builders of the Cylinder shared a language with them, then saving the natives and negotiating would be easy. A dark, rain-swept night is something a normal person would want to be out of, but it¡¯s also perfect for vanishing without a trace.¡±

    ¡°Seems right for a digital scenario, but if this all alt-universe¡­¡± Marcus mused, running through wet grass. An additional pair of drones detached from his suit and buzzed ahead, sending him a feed of the nearby terrain. ¡°I guess the architects could just search through time and space to find a good entry point.¡± Considering the absolutely ridiculous nature of such a thing staggered even a bad imagination, but so did somehow turning a crack in space-time into a functional material. ¡°Which means there¡¯s an actual history here, whether artificially seeded or just something from an initial population.¡±

    ¡°Gotta get past the natives wanting to stab you if you want to do any digging, dear.¡± Cynthia¡¯s avatar waved her finger at him.

    ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± Marcus laughed. ¡°That¡¯s going to be your job. Gotta be able to talk if we¡¯re going to get anywhere here.¡± As lighthearted as their banter was, figuring out the local culture was a genuine concern. He would eventually have to eat and sleep, and if this was an artificial scenario, there would almost certainly be barriers to any such sanctuary.

    ¡°I¡¯m listening, don¡¯t you worry,¡± Cynthia said, popping up an audio feed from the first pair of drones, left behind in the village and eavesdropping on conversations. Without a base station they had a limited range, but Marcus wasn¡¯t planning to go that far. At worst, he could use other drones to relay the signal, but they were a limited supply. And relatively fragile, even if the microfusion energy source and general design was meant for a good decade of operation.

    ¡°Let¡¯s find somewhere to hole up for a bit while you do that,¡± Marcus said, sending the scout drones out in a wider circle. There were stretches of fields outside of the village, of course, with what seemed to be storage sheds or the like visible through the rain. A muddy road stretched off in one direction, but Marcus was more interested in the looming shadow of what was probably a forest.

    Sprinting for ten minutes was no issue at all, and soon enough Marcus passing stumps of felled trees, then was in the forest proper. The actual species was unfamiliar; almost certainly deciduous with coarse bark and round, bowed leaves like green dishes. He jumped up into the lowest branches and then started making his way through the canopy. Just in case.

    ¡°Lest we forget that humans are monkeys,¡± Cynthia murmured grinning at him from the corner of his vision.

    ¡°This whole universe might be the result of monkey business,¡± Marcus said, with false aplomb. ¡°I would think you¡¯d appreciate the heritage.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d appreciate it more if there was a clearly marked exit,¡± Cynthia said, and Marcus had to agree.

    After making his way a little deeper into the forest, he settled himself into a joint between a few branches and accessed his biological control system. While the frame he had was very close to base human and couldn¡¯t pull the kinds of tricks that Captain Dromall or Pilot Meck could, he could still adjust things so he¡¯d leave less of a scent trail and be less susceptible to poisons and toxins, though at a loss to efficiency.

    ¡°What in the stars is this?¡± Marcus asked, metaphorically staring at something that certainly was not part of his normal biology, icy fear running down his spine at the idea that someone had messed with his mind. In the meditative space of the control center, an entire extra area had been added on, containing something like the Vitruvian Man. Himself, then extended outward from it, skin, muscle, blood, bone, organs. The weirdest part though were the points of potentiality that proprioception assured him were currently empty, but could be filled.

    One on each hand, one on his feet, one each on skin, muscle, blood, bone, organ. And one that was filled, placed on his head, and containing a sigil that was visually unfamiliar but which expressed its meaning to him in an unmistakable manner. It was Cynthia.

    ¡°Not code,¡± Cynthia said, dropping her normal cheerful demeanor. ¡°No countermeasures activated or even noticed. Neuron trace says that there¡¯s no new additions. Looks to be some form of esoteric physical feedback. So far as I can tell my housing is still physically in your brain, but I have no idea what would happen if you tried to unequip me.¡±

    ¡°So now we know at least one thing that¡¯s different about this universe,¡± Marcus said after a moment, silently agreeing with her nomenclature. He took a breath, manually dialing down the panic response and waiting for adrenaline to stop flooding his system. ¡°The question is ¡ª what does it mean?¡±

    Bootlegger Leviathan

    Blurb: Sam O¡¯Doule was a bootlegger, rum-runner, and speakeasy owner ¡ª until some rivals murdered him and he ended up in the body of a horrific monster in a world that was very much not earth. Taking it not as a second chance, but as a challenge, he sets out to be better in his new life ¡ª though the fact that he has been put into the body of the world¡¯s greatest evil makes that a touch difficult.

    Author¡¯s Commentary: This is kind of a weird wildcard. In a way this would be closest to Blue Core, in that it¡¯s a larger-scale kingdom-builder type. Progression elements for certain, as though Sam starts out in an incredibly powerful body, he lacks any of the knowledge that the original inhabitant had put together. In general, a high fantasy monster progfantasy.

    <hr>

    Chapter One

    Sam O¡¯Doule died twice in the same minute.

    The first time was those bastard Rambau Boys putting a couple dozen bullets through the front door of Sam¡¯s speakeasy. One got him right in the ticker, and that was it. The second time, his still death-addled mind found itself in the body of something vast and tentacular, floating in the blackest sea and facing a group of oddly-attired figures casting forth strands of light that gathered together into one vast and blinding sword that came down and cut him in two.

    In the void that followed, Sam had to wonder what the hell kind of purgatory he¡¯d earned for himself. Now, he wouldn¡¯t exactly consider himself a bad person, but flouting the law and operating a speakeasy in defiance of the Eighteenth Amendment to the United States Constitution came with a certain amount of gray. He¡¯d never knocked over anyone else¡¯s place; never had the nerve for it, really, but playing at the same table as Brownie York and the Rambeau Boys required a certain amount of rough and tumble. Truth was he¡¯d always thought he¡¯d have time to deal with the whole repentance and bettering-his-life thing later on in life, after he got out of the bootlegging game.

    Accordingly, it made sense that the Almighty hadn¡¯t welcomed him through the pearly gates with a chorus of trumpets and angels singing, but Sam Jones was intended to end up in the Other Place, he would have expected a bit more in the fire and brimstone department. Maybe some pitchforks for flavor. Not whatever sort of nonsense he¡¯d just gone through, which didn¡¯t make the slightest lick of sense.

    Sam reached up with an arm he no longer possessed to remove a cap he wasn¡¯t wearing and got down on knees that didn¡¯t exist to do the only thing that made sense in a formless void after he¡¯d gotten his ticket punched. Pray, and hope the Almighty had something for him other than weird nightmare visions of monsters.

    The long nothingness had nothing but time to reflect. Not even reflect, not even dwell; he was given himself and nothing else, and in the clarity of hindsight there really wasn¡¯t much there to recommend. Aimless meandering through the criminal underbelly of New Orleans, and for what? He¡¯d ended up nice and dead at the ripe old age of twenty-three, estranged from family and with so-called friends being partners in crime.

    He''d been weak. That was the long and short of it. No excuses, no foisting the responsibility on others ¡ª he had known the kind of people he was getting involved with. He¡¯d known the problems, he¡¯d known who was being hurt. But he¡¯d never actually turned aside and resisted the easy path.

    How all that tied into the strange vision he¡¯d been given he didn¡¯t know, but he was sure it would come to him in time. What mattered was in what came next ¨C if there was a next ¨C he couldn¡¯t be weak any longer. Couldn¡¯t give in to the easy path, to the dawdling and dithering that had put him into the live he¡¯d lived of crime and alcohol. Not just think it, not just want to do it, but actually be different.

    Light began to filter back into the void, along with sensations, but not ones that Sam Jones could fit to his experience. Then emotion smashed him like a wall and convulsed in a sudden panic, unable to move or breathe like he should have. But he¡¯d been a Breaker Boy in the coal mine before his old man got them out and knew what things were like. If this was to be his purgatory, well, he¡¯d better be up to the task.

    ¡°Am I¡­?¡± He spoke, or at least tried to, but the whole apparatus was different. Sam¡¯s anatomy knowledge was restricted to a few books from the high-class clientele that came by the speakeasy, the doctors who debated theories while sipping bourbon, but he was pretty sure the tongue was supposed to be involved. Not some bizarre organ located, well, somewhere.

    He tried to pry his eyelids open, feeling like he¡¯d gone overboard on sampling his own product, and the hazy light snapped into focus. A blurry sun shimmered and danced above, and it took him far too long ¨C the brainbox wasn¡¯t exactly running smoothly for obvious reasons ¨C to realize that he was underwater. Reflexively, he tried to hold his breath, but realized two things. First, he didn¡¯t know how, and second, he was breathing water just fine. He could feel it passing through his body, cold and sluggish.

    Limbs ¨C too many limbs ¨C swept through the water as Sam tried to get handle on just what the hell was happening. Expecting punishment in the hereafter was one thing; just being confused seemed too damned unfair. He tried to ignore the profoundly wrong sensation of water running through whatever passed for lungs and strained to focus. If he was going to be better than the last time around, it wouldn¡¯t do to fall at the first hurdle.

    Memory that wasn¡¯t his filtered. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was rancid and rotten with malevolence and spite. A him that wasn¡¯t him knew those figures that made the enormous glowing sword, and it hated them. It hated the world, it hated creation, it hated the fishes in the sea and the birds in the sky. It especially hated that no matter happened, it couldn¡¯t die and it couldn¡¯t beat the figures.

    But it had a plan. A plan that dripped with dark glee as the originator of those memories watched the golden sword form above it. In the moment that the sword was created, it drew from regions beyond the world, beyond the sky. It opened itself to the stars and so, in turn, the stars were open to it. There was a movement and sensation like air, like water, like lightning, something immensely complex aimed at a tiny point in space and time where here became there and then ¡ª

    Sam gagged, despite not even knowing what he had for a mouth or a throat. The feel of the memories was vile. Slimy, wretched, foul, and every other thing his mother had used to describe the seedy underbelly of New Orleans. Whoever, whatever the former inhabitant of his body had been, it was undeniably evil.

    ¡°That¡¯s just jake,¡± he muttered, hearing the words click and ping oddly inside his head. The sensation made him shudder, an all-over vibration which was so alien that it disturbed him even more, and it was only by sheer stubborn will that he didn¡¯t go spiraling into a permanent panic. He remembered one man who¡¯d come from the Orient and pontificated on the benefits of meditation, but Sam hadn¡¯t paid much attention outside of supplying the foreigner with bourbon.

    With the grit he¡¯d learned in the coal mine, and the fight he¡¯d learned in the streets of New Orleans, he locked away the horrible swirling confusion and tried to actually think properly. He knew he wasn¡¯t being given a second chance; that wasn¡¯t how these things worked. He was being given a challenge. So what if everything was horrible and unfair? He sure hadn¡¯t earned the right for fair the first time around, not when he¡¯d been part of the biggest criminal operations operating out of the South.

    Sam tried looking around again, this time with some more care, and found the body he¡¯d been given sure had a lot of eyes, ones that even seemed to work just fine underwater. He was floating near some kind of cliff, with the water¡¯s surface far above and a corrugated floor far below. The entire face of the cliff was packed with sea life, but not the kind he¡¯d seen when diving in the Gulf and helping out the rum-runners.

    A riot of reds and blues, greens and purples, even perfect blacks and whites covered the rock. Long spiny plants and short fringed ones, odd suckered things and vine-like growths crawling and waving and flowing with the currents. Fish of every shape and size, from the conventional schematic to half-moon things jetting around to what seemed like swimming crystals flitted in and out of the veritable forest. Some of them would have looked exceedingly dangerous, with mouths full of teeth and wicked spines that practically glowed, but they were all so small.

    Or really, Sam was large. He had tried not to think about it too much, but the body was a true leviathan, something out of the writings of Jules Verne. At one end, enormous octopus tentacles, dangling down toward the depths, connected to a body much like a shark¡¯s bearing many, many eyes. Something powerful, sleek, with massive fins extending from the side like one of the Wright Brother¡¯s creations. At the front, massive ropelike tendrils coiled around his neck, yet both from the horrible memories and vague feelings from his own body, he could tell they were more than just decoration. One of them uncoiled, a long, waving thing that split, then split again, and continued until the end was a fine mass of tiny threads under his complete control.

    He felt queasy just looking at it.

    Just the movement sent some of the nearby marine life darting for cover, though it didn¡¯t last long. Sam kept watching the sea life as he tried to understand what the hell kind of body he was actually in, since it wasn¡¯t anything even slightly near human. Almost as bad, he had no idea what to do, as floating around in the depths of the ocean didn¡¯t get him anywhere. He hadn¡¯t arrived with any instructions, or even hints, save for his own death and that loathsome memory.

    His pa had always said that first things came first, and Sam wasn¡¯t going anywhere or doing anything if he didn¡¯t know how to actually move his body. People had hands and feet, fish had fins and tails, but he had big, grasping tentacles that he could barely use. There were too many limbs, and he guessed that the body¡¯s brain could handle it but he sure hadn¡¯t had any practice.

    The big tentacles felt immensely powerful, moving them like crooking a finger, only moreso. They curled in, and in, and in, folding around on themselves into actual coils, until he was forced to stop with another full-body shudder. Far too strange.

    At the other end of his body, the manipulator tendrils were no less strange, but felt more like hands than the tentacles did feet. The fins at each side of his body was a lot like wiggling his ears, stiff things that didn¡¯t have much play. He wasn¡¯t sure how long he was at it, his body slowly drifting long with the current, but eventually he thought he could move without breaking something. Except it felt wrong when he tried.

    Fish had tails to propel them, birds had wings, men had legs. Dragging himself about with the tentacles didn¡¯t fit with the fins; he ought to be moving nose-first. Some clumsy flailing managed to move him from the vertical to the horizontal, and immediately his body seemed happier. Then he tried moving forward and something very strange happened.

    That power of lightning, fire, water, and wind all combined, a strangeness he remembered from those vile memories seemed to run through his body, and he simply moved without actually having to make the movements of swimming. The experience was so shocking that he would have taken a tumble if it were an option. Since it wasn¡¯t, he just came to a halt in the middle of the deep blue, already a good distance from the cliff where he¡¯d awakened.

    ¡°Never seen a clumsy octopus before,¡± he grumbled to himself, hearing the bizarre clicking and groaning of the words bouncing off the bottom of the ocean ¡ª and the top, for that matter. He could see a distant shoal of fish flurry in panic as the sound of his words reached them, and wondered hazily what on earth ¨C or more to the point, not on earth ¨C Leviathans ate. He didn¡¯t feel hungry, but that wouldn¡¯t last. Or maybe it would; he had no idea.

    He was still trying to get his metaphorical feet under him and literal tentacles behind him when one of his upward-facing eyes noticed something floating on the surface above. Dark wood and white sails framed against the sky. Now, most of the smuggling to New Orleans just used steamships, but he had seen enough of the smaller, older types, inherited ships and other such relics, to know what he was looking at.

    Before he even thought about it he started upward, and then froze in place the moment his brain caught up with things. He was a giant sea monster, and whatever poor sod was sailing the ocean blue with nothing more than wind and stars wasn¡¯t going exactly welcome him aboard. Even as he watched, the surge of water from his movement rippled upward and practically hit the vessel square, sending it tilting precariously in otherwise calm seas. Then some poor soul plunged into the water next to the ship, probably shaken from the rigging, and Sam found out just how good his eyes were.

    The man wasn¡¯t a man at all, but some kind of green-scaled lizard creature in orange and red clothes, whose panicked expression was obvious even from a hundred feet below the waves. He hadn¡¯t much thought of it just looking at the keel of the ship above, but with the person ¨C the clothes made it a person ¨C he could see the details just as well as if it were an arm¡¯s width away. They made eye contact, or something like it considering the distances involved, and the lizard creature thrashed its way to the surface.

    Sam just hovered, not entirely certain what to do. He knew how dangerous it was to fall overboard on a ship, but given a line it wouldn¡¯t be too bad in the current weather. At least, so long as there weren¡¯t any monsters in the water. Something like him, only less befuddled.

    Fortunately someone did cast a line from the ship, so he no longer had to worry about intervening. Moments later, the poor lizard-man was dragged aboard what had to be something like a galleon, given the size, and Sam spotted a few other heads peering over the side as the wind swept the ship onward. Sam drifted after, considering the thought that maybe there were other monsters in the waters.

    Obviously had no idea what, specifically, he was meant to do, but it sure wouldn¡¯t hurt to tail the ship and make sure nothing attacked it. He was pretty sure they weren¡¯t pirates; the ship looked too new and the lizard¡¯s clothing had been some serious glad rags. So just wandering after it wasn¡¯t much, but as his ma had always said, if you can¡¯t start big, start small. Which seemed about right, considering how small the galleon was relative to the new body.

    Besides, it¡¯d give him time to try and get a handle on things. He could move, but it was like an infant toddling about, and if he tried to grip anything he¡¯d probably just crush it. A sorry way to go for anyone he was trying to help, and the absolute opposite of what he was trying to do. Good people didn¡¯t squish other people.

    The waters were mostly clear; there were some fish here and there, nothing like the teeming masses back by the cliff face. No obvious monsters, at least, and a lot of the sea life fled at his approach anyway. At least the quiet gave him some time to think and practice moving around.

    Now that he had some distance from the repulsive nature of the snippet of memory he¡¯d been given, Sam realized that it said a lot about the kind of place he¡¯d ended up in. Not to mention the actions of the prior inhabitant of the body. Reading between the lines, this was a world full of people who had reason to hate the monster, especially since it couldn¡¯t be defeated permanently. Clearly, that entity ¨C Sam hesitated to even call it a person with so much distilled hatred ¨C saw the place as hell. So far, the ocean was weird and Sam was pretty sure he¡¯d miss the little conveniences of civilization soon enough, but the memory was a cautionary tale about what could happen if he let it.

    He stewed on it to one degree or another as he trailed the ship from far below, slowly working out how to operate the monstrous body as the sun sank and the sky started to darken. Uncomfortably, Sam wasn¡¯t getting hungry or tired. Or thirsty for that matter, but he figured that being surrounded by water, salt or otherwise, made that particular need irrelevant. It seemed churlish to complain about, but he did mutter aloud as he swam along, listening to his voice ping and click from somewhere in the massive frame.

    ¡°O¡¯course I can¡¯t just go walking out and greet any of these guys. Who¡¯s gonna sit there and jaw with a million-ton octopus shark anyway?¡± A few heads poked over the side of the galleon, then vanished again. Sam had the urge to go up and test his question right away, but only for half a second. Maybe he needed to be a better person, but that didn¡¯t mean being a stupid person, and he¡¯d worked with Brownie York enough to know the only way to approach something you didn¡¯t know was carefully.

    ¡°Heck, maybe I¡¯ve already muffed the entire thing by getting spotted. I doubt those scaly folk are too happy about having me trail ¡®em. Not that I¡¯ve got any better idea! Talk about needing instructions¡­¡± Sam¡¯s muttering trailed away as it got dark enough to show the stars ¡ª and something else.

    Someone had clawed the sky.

    Long, vertical slices of light lay atop the dusting of stars, parallel groupings in twos and threes at different angles. It reminded him of a chunk of wood he¡¯d found out in the woods where some friends had spotted a big cat when he was a kid. He¡¯d never forgotten the big gouges and what they said about the strength of the claws behind them, and he had to figure something strong enough to leave clawmarks on the very firmament was terrifying indeed.

    Perhaps it had been the former inhabitant of the body. Clearly the fight that he¡¯d been dumped into the middle of was some high-powered thing, heroes of legend and all that. Something out of the Arthurian tales, but pumped up so much higher. But he was pretty sure he didn¡¯t have claws, so maybe something else of a similar scale, somewhere else in the world.

    Or maybe they came from without, a cat the size of a planet using it like a scratching post. He decided that was a worry that he could do without and left it for another day, trying and failing to find anything familiar in the skies. Not that he expected it; any old fool could guess that dying had left him somewhere other than Louisiana.

    Even in the darkness he could spot the boat ¨C his eyes were really good ¨C and as the hours went on following it became an unconscious thing. At least until he thought about it, and then he lost control of everything and drifted askew in the leviathan equivalent of tripping over his own two feet.

    ¡°At least there¡¯s nobody here to see but the fishes,¡± Sam grumbled, struggling to face himself forward again, tentacles thrashing against the open water as he reoriented himself. It took longer than he would have liked, the echoes of his meaningless muttering bouncing off of both the sea floor and the surface, but the white of the sail was not too difficult to spot under the light of the clawmarks, stars, and the sliver of a crescent moon.

    As he trailed after the ship, he realized there was another source of light somewhere up ahead, something he couldn¡¯t directly see because he was so far underwater. He could guess though, as the seafloor started to rise, that it was somewhere on the shore. A city, perhaps, though if it were a port he would have expected to see more than just the one ship.

    His thought was a few minutes ahead of reality, as he did start seeing the blobs of other ships on the skin of the ocean ahead of them, and the orange reflection off white sails grew brighter. Bits and pieces of ship became visible on the seafloor, as the ocean became shallower and the waves became more prominent, but what really made him twig to the problem was the smell. So far he hadn¡¯t really noticed any particular smell in general, and hadn¡¯t even thought about smelling things in water, but the scent and taste of ash was impossible to ignore.

    ¡°Gotta see what¡¯s going on,¡± Sam sighed, and for the first time since he¡¯d arrived he aimed to break the surface. He could easily ¡®stand,¡¯ the water was so shallow, the big octopus tentacles braced against the seafloor as the front, toothy part of his body broke the surface. That was probably not how he was supposed to do it, but if he tried to surface with the bizarre, invisible propulsion he¡¯d probably end up causing a tidal wave.

    What he saw was a city on fire, with brightly-colored buildings of an odd, spiraled, around design crowded close together around a river. Sounds of distant fighting reached his ears, and from somewhere deeper on the shore there came flashes of light, followed by echoing reports. Sam goggled for a minute, reminded of his old man¡¯s occasional stories of the Great War, a nightmare of gunfire and artillery. The sounds prickled his own mind, the crackling of tommy guns just before he¡¯d gotten it, but frankly the whole death thing had happened too quick for him to build up any great dread of it.

    The sight of great, blue-and-green glowing bolide arcing over the city stirred him to action. He¡¯d never been much to stick his nose in before, but just avoiding problems wasn¡¯t going to cut it anymore. The problem was, in a war there was no telling who was good and who was bad, or if that even applied. The lizard-people might be upstanding folks, or cannibalistic savages, and he wouldn¡¯t know the difference.

    While he was staring, the ship he¡¯d been following pulled into the harbor, shouts echoing over the water as what were obviously troops disembarked and ran into the city. Alas, Sam couldn¡¯t understand a word of it, and he heaved a big bubbly sigh before putting it out of his mind. Sufficient unto the day were the evils thereof; he was just going to start by trying to figure something he could do that wouldn¡¯t make things worse. Wanting to help was one thing, but the road to hell was paved with good intentions. He couldn¡¯t just go in half-cocked.

    If it weren¡¯t for the vastly improved eyesight of the new body, he wouldn¡¯t have been able to discern people getting into a series of smaller ships in the harbor ¡ª and not just people. Smaller lizard-folk, some of them in fancy clothes and others in less, being shepherded by a few larger ones. Kids, Sam would guess, getting evacuated, and seeing that a tension he hadn¡¯t been aware of eased. That was unequivocally something he could get behind, no matter who was fighting and why.

    He drifted a little closer, pulling himself along with tentacle ¡®feet,¡¯ not sure how he would help but ready to at least try. At the same time, there was something about the fighting that seemed a little odd compared to what he was familiar with. Fewer gunshots, more sounds of steel, but also odd hissing and crackling and other, less identifiable sounds. The distant mortars lobbed glowing balls of light in different colors, rather than actual shells. It was when a circle of grey and white light blocked one of those bolides that Sam had to admit he had no idea how war was waged in this new place.

    The gaggle of corks or frigates or whatever it was that the small passenger ships were called started pulling away from the harbor, catching a breeze he could only barely feel on exposed skin. It seemed to be brisk, given that they were making good time, but not brisk enough as the mortar shells began to land in the harbor. One arced toward the escapee convoy, and without thinking he reached out hand to bat it away. Only, it was one of those weird tendrils and reached out, out, way far out and smashed the blue-glowing sphere as if he were batting away a fly.

    It detonated in a frozen burst, stinging a bit like when he stuck his hand into the ice bucket, but he doubted a ship or a person would come off quite so well. And if there were as many flying into the harbor as onto the city, he¡¯d hardly be able to deflect them all. He was pretty surprised he¡¯d managed the one without tangling the tendrils up somehow, or missing entirely.

    Sinking back beneath the water, he unrolled the other tendrils, focusing hard enough that he¡¯d be squinting if he could still squint, and used them to grip each of the half-dozen refugee ships. He was very, very careful, afraid that he¡¯d crush them, but after a minute or so he had them all cupped like holding a wine bottle in his hand, times six. Then he began moving.

    So far he¡¯d been metaphorically crawling rather than walking or, heaven forfend, running. But even at that speed he could easily outpace sailboats, so he basically just picked up the ships and moved. Water churned as he sped away from the harbor and along the coast, trying to ignore the screams from the ships. Even if he couldn¡¯t speak the local language, those translated just fine. But it was all in good cause, and he let them down once they were out of sight of the harbor. He didn¡¯t know where they intended to go, but whatever direction it was, at least they were away from the attackers.

    Sam still had no idea what he was doing, but a small glow of pride for helping someone warmed what passed for his chest. It hit better than smuggling drinks and running a speakeasy, for sure. He figured it was a good enough start and sank back beneath the waves, turning around to return to the city and lurk some more. Hopefully his intervention wouldn¡¯t cause any real trouble.

    ***

    ¡°You¡¯re absolutely certain?¡± Saint Misele of the Floating City narrowed her eyes at the messenger. Normally she wouldn¡¯t impugn a fellow atril, but she had been opposing Nemesis her whole life and she knew its habits. After its defeat in the far north, it shouldn¡¯t have appeared for another hundred years at least. Merely twenty was very strange. The heroes who had suppressed it last time were even still alive!

    ¡°I went and checked the eyewitnesses myself,¡± Captain Corocol said. ¡°The memory magic confirmed it. I¡¯m not sure what about the Tashkali¡¯s current civil war attracted it, but several people saw it strike a siege frostlance in midair. Our diplomat was in time to see it pick up several ships of refugees and leave.¡±

    ¡°Those poor people,¡± Misele said heavily, slumping in her chair, feathers prickling as she considered the dire fate of the tashi who had been in the way of Nemesis.

    ¡°Well¡­¡± Corocol shifted uncertainly. ¡°It¡¯s not in the written report, because the diplomat wasn¡¯t supposed to leave the embassy. But he did, and the ships were just taken some twenty miles south and left there. No damage, no casualties.¡±

    ¡°What.¡± Misele stared. ¡°Why? Are the tashi in league with it?¡±

    ¡°That was exactly what I looked into before coming here,¡± Corocol said, the vibrant orange feathers atop his head bobbing as he nodded emphatically. ¡°But no, there were no summoning rituals, no cultists, no blood sacrifices anywhere in the city. Plenty of blood; it is a war. But just the normal kind of thing.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not how Nemesis acts,¡± Misele said, standing up and incidentally towering over Corocol. She flexed the wings on her back, golden feathers shimmering as she paced her office. Her talons thumped on the blue crystalline wood of the floor as she tried to puzzle out what could be behind the sudden change in behavior. The early return, showing itself without doing anything to accumulate power.

    It wasn¡¯t like the Church of the Floating City had ever managed to completely purge the fragmented cults Nemesis put together. There was always some tiny seed for it to build from, but she trusted Corocol and besides, it had never shown mush interest in the tashi before. Its preferred servants were actually her own kind, glorying as it did in the subversion of the Saint¡¯s people.

    ¡°Was the last battle some kind of feint?¡± She wondered aloud. ¡°Everything it did, even up to being defeated ¡ª was it just to appear there, out of expectation, and draw us into a trap?¡±

    ¡°That seems depressingly possible, Saint,¡± Corocol said. ¡°Though it¡¯s obvious if it is such an inducement, and that by itself¡­¡± He trailed off, shaking his head. ¡°I believe you have told me before not to try and read into the twists of its mind.¡±

    ¡°Else you¡¯d go mad,¡± Misele agreed. ¡°But we cannot refuse to move simply because we suspect its plans. Get my skyship ready, Corocol. I need to get the heroes back together.¡±