Jhor dusted his hands on his long black jacket while studying the collected parts arranged on the dented metal table in the House’s tech workroom. “This is far more than we expected.” The anger underlying his dismay reflected Lapis’s own inspired but impotent rage.

“Some do not look weathered,” Sanna murmured as she picked up a head, rotated it around, and set it back down. “They should show rust and grime if they went to silence outside.” She walked down the length of the table, a beam from her forehead coating each one. “They are not Ambercaast khentauree.” She selected another head and turned it upside down. Engraved letters and numbers rested at the base of the neck’s interior. “LAR 907453-1009-B20. This serial number is unfamiliar to me.”

“No Shivers or the Cloister khentauree have a number such as that,” Tuft said. He pressed stiffly against the wall, arms folded, far enough away from Sanna, Lapis wondered if she made him uncomfortable. Something about her intimated other mechanical beings, including Dreamer; did Tuft find her unnerving?

“It is not a general worker’s identifier,” Sanna said. The beam intensified before she replaced the head. “These parts have a deep blue or red sheen to them. I have not met a khentauree with this translucent quality to their finish.”

Tuft rumbled darkly. “I have never encountered one with this look before.”

How many types of mechanical beings were there? Lapis was tempted to ask, but declined; the air felt brittle, as if the two khentauree held their reactions in tight check. She did not want to push them, especially if her words ended in an icy tantrum. “If Drakeways hooked up with the Beryl by way of Diros, they might have looted them from Torc Bedan,” she said. Jhor solemnly nodded as the khentauree swiveled their heads to her.

The Ambercaast khentauree’s shoulders slumped, and the modder patted her arm. “Don’t worry, Sanna. We’ll find the desecrated ones and return them to their proper silent rest.”

“They would scream, to be left to their eternal silence, safe in the embrace of the earth and away from the cruel whims of owners.” She pivoted and stared down at an unmoving head. “They are not charcoal. If they are from Torc Bedan, they may be military assistants.”

“I’m not certain they are in any condition to provide that information, but we’ll see,” Jhor said. “We may have to return to the workstation to get the equipment we need to access any extant memory.”

“I am not Path, but I can scan,” Sanna said. “I will share the data with her and she can pry meaning from it.”

Jhor nodded. “Good. And before I forget.” Holding up an index finger, he eyed Lapis. “I got bored watching Dreamer download himself into the new chassis. So I, with a bit of ingenuity, made these.”

He walked to a nondescript, tattered canvas bag sitting on a chair shoved against the far wall. After digging inside, he withdrew two dark, elbow-length gauntlets. Rectangular metal casings stained to match the leather ran down the tops, both held in place by rivets. They were thicker than her blade sheathes, with the handles attached to the wrists rather than the ends placed in a groove. A metallic silver substance coated the top of the stretchy black fabric that formed the fingerless glove.  Lapis blinked, and eyed him, curious. He raised them up, the leather ties dangling to his knees.

“Sils showed me your damaged one. While those blades are nice, in the coming days, you’ll need a pair that don’t rely on a physical mechanism that might get gunked up at the wrong time.” He set one down and shoved his left hand into the other. Sanna tied the strips, and the fit appeared snug.

Raising his palm, he pointed at a faint circle pressing against the fabric. “You can use these without a handle, but since you’re accustomed to one, I decided to go that route. We can remove them later if you want.” He pressed the circle, then flipped the handle so he could grip it.

A wide, pointed tip of metal shot from the case, and a long, beautiful amethyst ray continued past it, ending at approximately the same length her blades ejected to. Pale lavender sizzles coursed up and down the transparent interior, reminding her of the keltaitheerdaal weapons those unlucky shanks wielded. Her tummy twisted, and she fought not to reject the gift.

She wanted nothing to do with a potential fire hazard.

“Now I know what you’re thinking,” the modder said. Annoyance that he guessed her terror flourished, but he continued without bringing further attention to it. “But aubergidaal is not keltaitheerdaal or aquatheerdaal. It’s rare and more difficult to work with—and the Shivers has mounds of it. Vision said that they discovered veins right before Taangis invaded the mines to force people back to the continent, and the mine operators did not tell the Cloister humans about the find.”

“They did not,” Tuft agreed. “They saw profit in selling it in criminal markets. After the mine humans left, we hid the discovery from the Cloister because we did not want those humans to force us to extract it. I had broken the work program, and we did not want them to find out.”

Jhor perked up. “Is that why the miners no longer mined, even if the Cloister still prayed?”

“The Cloister prayed because Luveth and Dreamer demanded it of them. They should have broken the program. They chose not to.”

The revelation startled Lapis, though she did not know why. She already knew Luveth followed the cult’s programming when she could have diverted from it. “Couldn’t Vision have interfered?”

“No. She did not have the codes, and Luveth and Dreamer refused to share. She could have harmed them to retrieve the data, but that is not her way.”

What was her way?

“Her way is apparently to supply you with aubergidaal,” Jhor said. “There’s more than enough to fuel the gauntlets until you retire, and Vision is happy to furnish it. She says the Shivers and the Cloister owe us.” He shrugged, as if he did not agree, but had no wish to argue. “I found references to it in the notes Gedaavik’s stashed in the hidden room. He thought the mine would have some, even though they hadn’t discovered it before he died. I employed some of his more interesting theories about using it as an aquatheerdaal replacement.”

If he meant to reassure her, he failed.

“The sizzles are to scare your opponents,” Sanna said. “They were my idea. The unknown grips humans in wet fear and you will take advantage.”

Despite her unease, Lapis grinned at the proud statement.

Jhor pointed at the joint of the handle near his left thumb. “Press here and circle up to make the beam larger, press and circle down to make it thinner.” He pressed the end with this thumb and circled up; the beam broadened and lengthened. He circled down, and the beam shrank to a paintbrush size.

“That is Vision’s idea,” Sanna said. Ah. And what did the khentauree think she needed it for?

“Vision has many ideas,” Tuft said, as unemotional as a cube of ice. Sanna hummed a warning, and he swiveled his head away from the demonstration.

“The two mechanisms work independently of each other,” Jhor continued. “You can have one long, one short, or whatever. This is a button.” His fingers smoothed a shallow bump on the back of the casing; the effort to pop it down meant he did not want it accidentally pushed. After a soft click, the beam blinded in bright intensity. “It dumps more aubergidaal into the reaction, making the beam brighter and more potent. You can set things on fire if you need to.” He flipped the handle back and pressed the palm circle; the beam died, and the metal retreated into its sheath. “These are not like your physical blades, so practice a bit before you use them.” He untied the strips and pulled the crossings loose. “I will also point out that I’m not a shank modder and have repaired my share of Dentherion military tech. These are not going to explode or set you on fire. That’s what safe catches are for. See this button bump at the front? If you get concerned, that shuts the gauntlet down.”

Would he get angry, if she used that more than expected?

He slipped the gauntlet off, pointed the larger end at her, and tapped the metal. “The cartridge lives here. You’ll need to replace the aubergidaal eventually.” He pressed in and the back of the casing popped out, revealing a shallow holder. He flipped the item over, shook it, and a transparent rectangle smeared with purple dropped into his hand. Sanna took the gauntlet as he clasped the container between his fingers, his thumb resting on top. “Slide the end open to look at the powder.” He swung the latch to the side, then identified a black line near the bottom with his fingernail. “Add more once it reaches this line. If the powder clumps, close the lid, shake hard, and break them apart. If that doesn’t work, dump the contents and refill with this.”

Sanna retrieved a nondescript cylinder from the bag, unscrewed the lid, and showed her the glittery purple dust inside.

“Now, this isn’t just aubergidaal,” Jhor said. “I mixed in a few other things and gave the Cloister and the workstation the recipe. A cartridge lasts longer than you think, but we haven’t had time to truly test the limits. Depending on how often you use it, you’re set for years. And yes, this mixture degrades, but at such a slow rate, you won’t notice anything different from your first use to your last.”

“We will clean the casing insides when they need it,” Sanna said. “Also, keep the aubergidaal dry. If it becomes wet, shake it onto a cloth and let it dry. Then put it back. It must be dry, to work right. It should not happen because the casing is waterproof, but if the gauntlet becomes wet while the beam is out, water can leak into the casing. Fizzle sizzles are not good for fights. Do not get your gauntlet wet.”

Lapis nodded, as solemn as the khentauree, though Jhor’s exasperation did not help her pound the laughter into the pit of her tummy. Fizzle sizzles indeed.

“The bag has extra cartridges, leather supplies, and the like,” the modder said. “And if you have problems, get in touch. We’ll be a workstation away.”

He popped the cartridge back in, sealing the casing, and handed her the gauntlet. She accepted it—it was heavier than she expected, though not as weighty as her blades—and smoothed the bumpy leather. “Thank you. You made them for me without me or Patch commissioning them. Why?”

“The tech weapons we’re accustomed to don’t fit with your fighting style. I made you ones that work with your preference.” Sheepish satisfaction parted his lips as he rubbed at the back of his head. “And we owe you.”

“Owe me?” she asked, startled. For what?

“We thought ourselves alone,” Sanna murmured, soft and somber, no buzz or static to her tone. “The nights passed as we stared at the sky and wondered if we were the last khentauree. It seemed we were, and despair crushed us. We knew Gedaavik visited other mines, but we thought they had gone to silence and only we carried his legacy forward. Now we know, the Shivers and the Cloister are alive with khentauree. We know Torc Bedan hid khentauree. There must be others on Theyndora. We will find them. And it is you who made this possible. You, who looked at us and saw another intelligent being of thought, deed and emotion, not a scary machine that should be silenced. Your vision touched the humans you know, and they, too, see us in this light.”

She had thoughts on the scary part, but she refused to ruin the moment by voicing them. “You’re giving me more credit than I deserve.”

“You never experienced the mine owners,” Tuft said. “Or Maphezet Kez. The differences between you are vast.”

“You and Jhor see more in us than the normal human.” Sanna slipped her arms around the modder’s shoulders, clasped her hands at his breastbone, and pressed her front against his back. “And we like you. We want you well-weaponized.”

Jhor squinted back at her, but she did not rescind the remark. Well-weaponized? Lapis supposed she could do worse. A fuzzy rush of gratitude mixed with uncertainty paraded through her, tingling her chest and neck, and she donned the weapon. Maybe she just needed to practice to alleviate her worry. Since she needed to stay up anyway, she might as well take a few practice swipes while the modder was around to answer questions.

Why promise to stay up? She knew Patch, knew a quick errand could take him days because something else always distracted him. Guzzling wake juice did not help; the pick-her-up was more a pull-her-down, and all she wanted was sleep.

Only she, sunk down low on the padded chair and gazing out the frosty window, saw the fingers of dawn touch the night sky. Only she felt the remaining chill of night settle in the room because she neglected to add wood to the fireplace, thinking it was a waste because her partner would return soon. Only she wondered what Sanna and Tuft discovered as they delved into the khentauree heads; Jhor expressed sympathy at her vow and trudged to a guest room for slumber.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway; Patch and Path, he with wet hair and cheeks red from scrubbing, she with a shining chassis. Lapis pried herself off the couch, more droopy than peppy at their return.

“So what’s the tunnel like?” she asked as she buried her face in his soap-scented chest, uncaring of the cold wafting from him.

“It is grimy and icky and filled with black glumpy stuff,” Path said with thick disapproval and annoyance.

“Nolin and I bought new clothes at the baths and put the others in the burn pile.” That told her all she needed to know about how disgusting the passageway was. Patch sighed and clasped her closer. “Good news, it leads to the palace.”

“But?”

“The exit door’s in the inner defensive wall, and high up. It looks like the builders discovered the tunnel, thought the puppet king might need an escape route, and build wooden stairs from the top of the wall down, then forgot about it. Great place to hear the guards talking as they patrol, but to get out, you’d either need to climb past the stairs because I doubt they’ll hold a human’s weight, or break the grate and use a rope to repel down into the northern atrium. That place wasn’t much used when I had access to the palace, and it looks even more abandoned now.”

Good?

“The grate’s two stories up.”

Not good.

“We’ll talk about it later. I’m for bed.”

“I will join Sanna and Tuft,” Path hummed. “They are not happy.” She pivoted and headed for the basement stairs.

That sounded ominous, but Lapis was too tired to care. She squeezed Patch before stepping back. “I have a surprise for you, too. It’s in the suite.”

“Surprise?”

“Something Jhor gave me.”

“Okay.”

His weary nonchalance died on curiosity as she slipped the right gauntlet on, tightened the strips, pressed the circle, and flipped the handle into her palm. Gleeful laughter filled the space when the purple beam shot out and she cut through the smoldering wood in the fireplace. He sounded like a little boy given full rein in a candy store, and alarm zipped through her.

“What are you going to ask him for?” she asked, suspicion stomping over her pleasure that she impressed him. His wide, wide grin made her queasy, but weariness rather than questions motivated her. The soft mattress called, so she crawled into bed, snuggled into his arms, and vowed to sleep the day away.