Tia’s angry growl vibrated through the room. Vison pivoted to her as Lapis leaned over her knees, sucking in breath past her rapid heartbeat, eyes and nose running from debris exposure. She, at that moment, wanted nothing more than for the terron to swipe at the khentauree. She could regret her nasty vindictiveness later—maybe.

Patch tamped down on Linz’s arm, before they acted on the glint in their narrowed eyes. Scand trotted to Sanna, getting out of the way in case someone decided they had enough of Vision’s manipulations. The fortune teller must have realized their fury, too, because she continued to face them as she reached back and pressed the door panel. The door slid shut, deadening the sound of squealing debris and keeping more dust out of the room.

“Are you alright?” Jhor asked, rushing in and wiping his hands on a cloth. He sneezed and pulled his collar higher, to keep the grit at bay. A rolling boom came from below and the floor shuddered; had the collapsing room hit the ground? The modder frowned and stopped, eyeing the tiles with suspicion.

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Lapis said, wheezing, waiting for the floor to fail. It held firm, so she looked at her savior. “Thank you, Tia.”

The terron nodded, still growling. She took a step towards the local khentauree, but Sanna hiss-buzzed with loud exuberance, interrupting the confrontation. She regarded the screens, her hands stationary above the keyboard she used. A couple showed fuzz, but the rest remained extant. One camera displayed a wide, not-so-luxurious hallway where men in black uniforms that looked warm enough for the weather, tech guns in hand, cautiously proceeded.

No khentauree in sight.

Vision hummed. “You must tell the khentauree to go rest. They will hurt us, if they see us.”

“How do I do that?” Lapis asked, pushing into an upright position and shuffling to the screen to study the group. Jhor, squinting, moved closer, then pointed at the unclear smears of red on their helmets.

“I think those are red tridents,” he said.

Wonderful. And they did not have convenient undershanks to trip them up, nor Ghost handy to take them out.

“I told Heven,” Vision said. “She will keep the other humans safe.” She moved to a panel attached to the back of a desk that had a dark screen, switches, and a perforated square device sticking out from a metal arm. “Speak in this,” she said, tapping on the square. “Tell the khentauree to go rest, in the old language.”

“That’s going to alert the tridents that someone’s here,” Patch said, granting the fortune teller a look that might have seared flesh off her, had she any.

“She speaks the old language. They will not understand. They will think it’s a pre-recorded warning.”

Pre-recorded warning? How was she supposed to accomplish that? “Sound bored,” Jhor advised, though his attention remained on the enemy. Their unfriendly fire had harmed Sanna at Ambercaast, and she doubted the modder would treat any of them kindly, if given the chance.

She sucked in a breath and hoped she remembered the phrases correctly. Her eyes throbbed in unison with her heart, and she pressed fingers against her chest, fighting for a calmer presentation. If she gasped, she doubted anyone would believe her words were a recording.

The khentauree tapped on the screen; it flashed on, bathing them in a dull white gleam. She navigated through several menus, then flipped a switch; it turned a soft yellow and a crackling sound came from the upper corner of the room.

Lapis looked up at the black box tipped towards her, then bent over the thing she was supposed to speak into. She thought she heard her own breathing above her head, but ignored it.

“Mekot. Kredi un Maphezet Kez. Medoaa keethem ba vara.”

Jhor grinned and patted her back. She repeated the words three times, then Vision clicked the switch. The static ended.

The Red Tridents whirled, tech weapons pointing in all directions. A couple fired into the air, which earned them the chastisement of a man with several patches parading down his arms. Paranoid men might just shoot each other in their haste to battle ghosts; Lapis silently prodded them on.

“Say, ‘Dosi nak Madast ussur.’”

She blinked and pulled her attention back to Vision. “What does that mean?”

“Avoid the Cloister entry.” She flipped the switch on again.

Lapis dutifully repeated the words three times, and Vision clicked the switch.

“We could have done that before,” Jhor told her as she breeze through more options.

“There was no need to do that before,” she said. “But the interference makes downloading the language hard, and the men want to hurt khentauree.” Her finger flew over the buttons that popped up with strange symbols glowing on them, then, with a hum of satisfaction, stepped back, leaving the screen on.

Patch folded his arms, fingers smooshing his coat sleeves, his gaze boring into the khentauree like a hot iron. “So what do you mean, we opened a way into the mine?” he asked as Spring cautiously entered the room, head swiveled to the screens. While she favored her damaged leg, Jhor had made it usable again. Good; if they had to run, which seemed likely with Vision guiding them, she could keep up.

“The platform that fell moved up and down. It would move up to the temple, and down to the mine. It fell, so the way down is open.”

Down to the mine? Why had she not said so before?

“You want us to use an entrance with dust and debris that might be deadly to breathe, and who knows what it destabilized—”

“The humans carved the tube to go down two extra stories if the platform failed. It will block nothing. It is in its grave, as it should be. Another platform crosses the tunnel. The way to the mine is fine.”

“It’s large enough for Tia?” Lapis asked.

“Yes. There is a service elevator from that room,” and she pointed to the final door on the right. “It is where those who took care of the consoles moved equipment between the workstation and the mines.”

“You expect us to trust an elevator that’s how many years old?”

“Khentauree conduct upkeep. It is fine. It was meant for heavy equipment and many khentauree at once. It will hold.”

Jhor tapped the screen over the twitchy tridents. “I think they’re following a map,” he said. “The lead’s holding something he’s referencing, and they’re filing in the direction he pointed.”

A map? How had they gotten their hands on one? Had the earlier arrivals sent it to them before they arrived?

Their group needed a map, something they did not have to rely on the local khentauree to translate.

“And so are they.”

Another group, on another screen, holding a device they checked and made motions as if they discussed which way to go. The lead had armed men behind him, with people dressed in warm gear but without weapons trailing, looking at the golden splendor in awe. They had packs, and one pushed a cart loaded with boxes and funny-shaped bags.

“Sanna—”

“I have found no map. But there is a list of passwords in a non-protected file. It has big text saying it’s for personnel only and the stars’ curse on anyone who uses them otherwise.”

No sarcasm? Lapis expected a comment about the stupidity of doing that. Jhor half-laughed and wiped at his eyes. “But no folder yet.” He looked back at the screens. “I recognize some of these people,” he said. “Bov Caardinva’s mercs, and the markweza’s scientists.” He held his finger over a thin figure swimming in an oversized trench coat, rubbing their ungloved hands together and jerking their head about, as if every sound triggered the flight response. “That’s Fraze.”

“Fraze?” Patch asked, squinting. Lapis knew she had heard the name before, but could not place it.

“He was an assistant at Ambercaast. A second-rate researcher, and he resented Velensaans for not recognizing his superior work. He fled with Caardinva, and I’m pretty sure he took sensitive info with him. He had access to all the khentauree code the markweza’s people used, and he worked personally on Ghost. Remember, we think he found one of Gedaavik’s hidden labs?”

Vision hummed, high and mouse-like, the first not-confident sound she had voiced in company. “They walk the Mooring. It is nearby.”

“So they may be trying to find this room.” Jhor nodded and straightened, his hands on his lower back. “They have scientists and equipment, guards with them. If they found info on the Cloister, like a map, it might list this room. They would guess, if extant, they could use the tech here to gain access to the khentauree programming. Considering the Cloister is lit and cared for, they probably assume some of the consoles still work.”

“We need to inspect this elevator. It’s going to be our evacuation route.” Patch strode to the unopened door and punched the wall in approximately the same place Vision pressed; the portal sucked back, revealing a dark-shrouded storage room illuminated only by a red light blinking in an emergency pattern. Empty shelving and metal boxes sporting a star stamp rested within. Lines streaked through the peeling gold paint, a part of the design, and Lapis wondered if that represented a fallen star. She thought she remembered those being important to the modern incarnation of the Stars’ worship, but could not recall why.

Her disinterest in religion was not paying off.

Vision buzzed and stepped forward; Tia growled, and she paused, then settled, folding her hands over the chest of her lower torso and not voicing whatever she planned to say. Spring straightened.

“I will go, too,” she said. Lapis had yet to hear her speak; the mechanical being had a soft, lilting tone, pleasant to the ear. Linz motioned to the khentauree, who clip-clopped into the room. The rebel unlocked their fingers from the tech weapon, stretched them, then motioned for her to proceed them. She nodded, readjusted her scarf, and cautiously stepped inside.

The room was as large as the dining area, though whatever it once stored had long disappeared. The few metal crates had tops off and empty insides, and the vacant shelves awaited more items that would never arrive. Lapis disliked the emptiness, for their steps echoed off the stark surfaces, which made them sound loud and bumbling. If any enemy hid within, they would know someone approached.

As promised, an elevator sat at the back, between a cluster of small-wheeled devices holding pallets. A panel with three buttons rested to the side; Spring pressed the bottom one, and something mechanical whirred. The elevator arrived within moments, without the banging and grinding Lapis expected from old equipment. The door was wider than two Tia’s, and the interior could house four terrons with plenty of room to spare. Prickles raced down her arms at the thought of getting inside and falling, but she dutifully followed her partner and stood between him and Linz, hands clenched, staring at the scratched, bumpy floor as the thing started down.

Spring would not accompany them if she expected it to careen into oblivion. Right?

Nothing happened. Expectations of falling to her death without Tia to help did not dull despite the good luck.

The elevator opened into another large storage room, this one with more empty containers and less shelving. At the far end, red lights flashed above a door, a beacon they easily followed.

Patch positioned himself to the side of the portal, squatting down, tech weapon ready. Linz joined him, tense. Lapis planted her back against the wall opposite; Spring studied them, then hid herself next to her and pressed the panel.

A dim white glow filtered through the opening. Patch peeked around the corner, his handheld light whisking back and forth. He said nothing, so Lapis peeped as well. Dust hung in the air outside a glass tunnel that covered a metal platform with tread plate. A black line in the center of the ceiling held small bulbs, but she guessed only a quarter remained unbroken, if that. The bright red light above their heads swiveled, illuminating the floor every other turn. The doorway on the opposite side, with a similar light, opened into darkness.

Linz inched around Patch and clicked on her light; while the beam did not highlight much beyond the tunnel, it did not reflect off senseless khentauree, either. Patch crept to the edge and set his foot on the platform. Nothing happened, so he jiggled it; creaking rose from beneath, but the floor did not move. He straightened and stood on it; more creaking but no quaking. He took a cautious step and waited; nothing happened.

“Seems stable,” Linz whispered.

“Yeah,” he said. “For humans. I’m concerned for Tia.”

“There has to be another way,” Lapis said. Another tube, perhaps? How many did the Cloister have?

“There is,” Linz told her. “Through the Red Tridents.”

“Yeah, I’d rather chance this platform,” Patch muttered.

The red light blinked twice and stopped. Frowning, Lapis looked up, concerned, edgy.

Spring hummed. “Jhor turned off the alarms,” she said. “The emergency program overrode uploading the changes, so he stopped it. Sanna set the update trigger so that the khentauree must run the change as soon as they receive it. She hopes this happens sooner, rather than later, despite the latency the interference causes.” She paused. “Vision says they locked the door and Jhor added a passcode. Then he and Sanna put more passcodes on the folders, and created a fake partition with a salacious name to attract unwanted attention. If the enemy gets inside, they will have difficulty using the consoles.”

What did Vision consider a salacious name?

“Caardinva’s people have workarounds for the interference, so they may not be inhibited like we are by it. A good precaution.” Patch rubbed at his temple. His patch lights spun fast enough, a line of blue trailed them. How much trouble was he having? “Jhor made modifications to my eye, but I know it isn’t happy.”

“Jhor does not want to leave, for there is more to do, but Sanna believes they should,” Spring said.

“It’s better if Caardinva’s people don’t know we’re here,” Patch said. “We need to avoid encounters. Tell him and Sanna to wrap up and get down here.”

“I will go and take the elevator up,” Spring said, and retraced their steps.

“I feel like we’re being manipulated,” Linz grumbled, watching her leave with a lifted lip.

“We are,” Patch said. “And I doubt Vision cares, as long as she gets what she wants.”

“She’s a machine. She doesn’t care about anything.”

“The regular khentauree, yeah. No emotion. But the special ones? I’m not certain about them. Gedaavik’s code did something unique to them. It may be, they’re better at faking it, but there is something different about them.”

Linz bobbled their head. “It’s hard to consider them just machines, especially when they put emotion into their words. It’s hard not to get excited with Path when she shows off her hat. It’s hard not to feel awe in Ghost’s presence and believe he’s so much more than metal and wires. But claiming Gedaavik created mechanical beings with human thoughts and feelings? That’s making him into a deity.”

“There’s no such thing as deities.” Patch raised his eyebrow. “But Gedaavik was real.”

Linz pursed her lips and did not continue the conversation. Lapis fell on Patch’s side. It may be, she just wanted the khentauree to feel the emotions their voices held, like humans. They became relatable, not just a buzzy speaker inside a metal chassis that did whatever a tech program told them to do.

Patch crossed the tunnel with haste rather than caution and inspected the room opposite them before the rest of the group arrived. Lapis clutched her hands into her coat and waited, unease and fear parading down from her chest and into her belly, where queasiness swirled. She hated the waits during chases, and she hated them now. She attempted to form contingency plans in case he got in trouble, something other than to point the tech weapon, pull the trigger, and hope she didn’t hit him. That would not help him, if he faced the enemy or the platform collapsed.

Her nausea spiked as she recalled his fall during Dreamer’s attack.

He signed ‘all clear’ as the others reached them. Jhor was not happy, and kept his attention on one of his devices. Sanna guided his steps with her arm linked to his, so he did not trip and land on his butt.

They proceeded, one by one, across the platform. A few odd creaks, but the metal did not budge. Considering the other platform’s fall, Lapis distrusted the strength, but it held for human and khentauree. When only she and Tia remained, the terron pointed her nose at the other side. She reluctantly crossed, hoping the floor did not crumple under the larger being.

“She will not fall,” Vision said, an obvious deduction, to worry about a companion. A soft cyan glow bloomed in the khentauree’s forehead and she proceeded to the double door, unconcerned.

Good for her. Lapis waited, then backed from the entrance when she realized the large lizard would make it across. She glanced around; benches shoved into the walls, one pallet, and a blank screen with a keyboard on an arm sat just off the wall. The room had the air of disuse, and not just because it swam in mustiness. The khentauree had not cleaned it, and she wondered why. Did it not count as part of the Cloister?

The corridor beyond had a tile floor marred by grungy black clumps and rock debris. The ceiling held the remains of lights connected by thick wire, which dangled past the empty holders. No bulbs remained, and Lapis bet the khentauree raided them for replacements. They passed metal doors with rust and broken handles, the windows too smeared with grime to see through. The lack of décor, the lack of upkeep, struck her; the mechanical beings even watered dead trees because of their coding. Did they neglect this way because they did not have a specific command to clean?

One door stood ajar; Patch shined his light inside. It contained a cracked wooden crate, shoved to the back of the otherwise empty room.

Was this storage, too?

“Vision, what did they use this corridor for?” Jhor asked, louder than Lapis would have dared. The darkness deserved reverent whispers.

“They stored electronics and khentauree parts here,” she said. “The Cloister moved everything of value to other levels when the number of humans became less.” Her head swiveled back to the modder. “It was a shared space with the mine.”

“What part of the mine?” Patch asked.

“One for khentauree repair. Later humans did not consider it part of the mine, and neglected it.” She hummed. “I think Luthier was the last to use this way. The platform has not moved since she left the Cloister.”

“I’m surprised it still worked,” Jhor muttered.

“It did not. That is why it fell.”

Tia rumbled, and Scand trotted back to her from his place ensconced in the center. “Tia says there is a strange smell, like the frost Tuft created in the cave.”

Sanna clicked, worried. “That is bad. I sense nothing ahead.”

“Widen the search,” Patch told her. His patch whirled with speedy lights, and he pressed his fingers into the center. They danced another pattern, random and engrossing.

“Tuft is wisps, illusions,” Vision crooned. “He dwindles and reforms. There is no sense with him.”

“He is outcast by choice,” Spring said. “He refused Maphezet Kez and refused the mines until the humans left. He believes the only safe place for khentauree is one without humans.”

“What did he think of Gedaavik?” Linz asked.

“He called him father,” Vision said. “He called Maphezet Kez insane and Ree-god the destroyer.”

Lapis could not fault him for the last one. Ree had damaged much, including her own death, in the search to achieve a khentauree’s immortality.

“What did you call him?”

“A creator. A light.”

“Ree-god touched Tuft once,” Spring continued. “The humans never found him again. We khentauree thought he had broken, like the other special ones Ree-god touched. But he reappeared after the Cloister no longer had humans.” She clicked. “I don’t know why he stood with Luveth and Dedi. After Luthier moved to the mines, he and Dreamer had harsh words and harmed one another. Luveth and Dedi helped Dreamer drive him away.”

“What about this frost he created?” Patch arched his neck to see beyond Vision and into her cyan illumination.

“Special khentauree are special khentauree,” Vision said. “Gedaavik named us so.”

“How?” Linz asked.

“His code.”

Vision was good at explaining nothing. Jhor half-laughed and smiled at them.

“That’s pretty straightforward, considering how Ghost, Sanna and Chiddle avoid the question.”

“We do not avoid,” Sanna declared with a human-like sniff. “We deviate.”

Linz snickered, and the khentauree ignored Jhor’s annoyed glare.

The corridor widened, and they passed through a gap that must have once held a door, but only the slits where it slid into the wall remained. Light glinted off khentauree silver; Lapis stopped with the rest of their group while Vision and Spring proceeded, unconcerned.

Mechanical beings with missing limbs, torsos, with cracked chassis, lined the walls, two or three deep in some places, in the same position that Dreamer had lain when they first saw him. While Lapis realized they walked through a graveyard, it did not have Ambercaast’s sense of peace, of reverence and respect for those who went to silence. Ghost, Sanna and Chiddle danced for them, kept them alive through memory and motion. These lay in an abandoned hallway, brushed aside, gunk riding up their horse torsos.

“There are so many,” Vision said sadly. Spring whined and bowed her head.

“Humans did not care, who broke.”

Humans did not place these. Khentauree did. The precision of the positioning spoke loud.

Lapis shivered when she realized the words did not come from the locals she walked with. Too cold, too husky. Tuft stood down the corridor, his hair and tail waving in a non-existent wind, sparkles reminiscent of wind-blown snow shifting around him. Spring hummed, worried, though Vision did not appear affected.

“You downloaded the language,” she said, pleased.

“To speak with evil is necessary.”

And who did he consider evil? Lapis’s grip tightened on her weapon, though, if Tuft had anything near Ghost’s abilities, she doubted she could use it before he took them out.

He cocked his head, his gaze boring into Sanna. “You are not a Cloister khentauree.”

“No. I am from Ambercaast. It was once a city in Jilvayna that had many mines, but they died when the humans died. We and the terrons are left.”

“Terrons?” he asked. His head straightened as he regarded Tia.

“The mine owners harmed them as they harmed khentauree,” Sanna said. Tia raised a claw to speak, and Tuft focused on that.

“Tia says terrons sniffed aquatheerdaal in a lot of mines throughout Theyndora.” Scand’s words sounded strong, even though he had the blank stare common in street rats when confronted by bully boys and mean guards who terrified them. “She’s surprised they weren’t used here.”

“I do not know terrons.” Tuft shifted and swirls coursed from him. “Only khentauree.”

“We uploaded the code to fix Ree-god’s program into the servers,” Sanna said. “The interference may prevent some from downloading and installing it. If you have the code, you should download the fix.”

“A fix?” Tuft asked, his legs spreading wide, ready to fight.

“Do you wish the khentauree to continue to pray?” Sanna asked, disgust filling her tone. “We don’t. It is heavy water on the feather of their minds.”

“You hurt Dreamer.” The statement coincided with frost coating the nearest surfaces. Lapis looked down at her coat sleeves as cold penetrated the warmth; a sheen of dusty glitter blanketed them. She snagged Scand, pushed him behind her as she tensed and her chest throbbed a dire dirge; she proved poor protection, but she would try. Linz gasped and held up a glove; the pattern crossing the dark material looked pretty, unlike the being who created it. Tia shook, ridding her skin of the fine dusting, and her scales throbbed a brighter, warning green.

“I did not. Chiddle did. He hurt Dreamer because Dreamer wanted to hurt friends.”

“Friends? There are no friends among them.”

“No. We are friends. There is respect and curiosity, as sweet honey between us.”

“Humans own khentauree. There are no friends,” Tuft stressed.

“These humans did not own khentauree. The mine owners went to silence long before they entered Ambercaast. These humans help us. Jhor especially helps us.” A deeper, rolling rumble came from her, and the hair on Lapis’s neck prickled. “You hurt Jhor, I will send you to silence and rip your husk into casting bits for spare parts.”

As terrifying as the cold was, it held nothing on Sanna’s heated threat. Tuft shuffled back and raised a hand to ward off her anger; both Spring and Vision swiveled to her and stepped through the broken khentauree to remove themselves from a potential battle. Lapis thought it unwise to tell an enemy who to harm to elicit the most pain, but if Sanna had threatened her with the same thing, she would not have dared look at the man in question, just in case the act was mistaken as an attack.

“Fuck.” Lapis glanced at Patch, but his attention focused on the darkness behind Tuft. “You led them right to us.”

The khentauree whirled; light flickered in the distance, as if beyond a curve in the corridor. “I did not.” His defensive words bit like his frost, and Lapis believed him.

“Is that why you came down this way? To lose them?”

“We must hide,” Vision said, her tone dipping into khentauree disapproving buzz. “There is no exit other than beyond the enemy.”

“Where is Luveth and Dedi?” Spring asked. She, too, voiced her question in a disapproving buzz.

“They are elsewhere.”

“Tia can’t get into one of these rooms,” Lapis said, motioning to the too-small, grungy doors. Dread beat hard against her eyelids, and she fought to tamp down on her fear. A blank mind was not going to help them think of a solution.

The fierce need to plan erupted through her. Her chases went smoothly because she spent the time planning routes, confrontations, knowing her target and where they lived, dined, enjoyed themselves. How she wished she were back in Jiy, huddled in a cold roof corner and cursing her chase for leading her to whatever back alley hidden meeting they thought important.

“We’ll need to go back,” Jhor said, turning to look behind.

“No!” Vision stamped her hoof, annoyed, her shawl swishing around her shoulders. “We must go forward. There is no solution behind, only locked doors.”

“You have a better idea?” Patch asked, jerking his chin at her.

“I know of things,” the fortune teller declared, facing him fully, hands on hips. “I know of caches and consoles and the Ree-god failed code. I know of labs and—”

“Do not, Vision,” Tuft warned. Frost spiced the air, and puffs of breath formed before everyone’s mouth.

Lapis regarded the fortune teller. Something in her words, a hint, that she did not understand. Would Sanna?

Tia signed and Scand cleared his throat. “Tia thinks she should go first. Tech weapons can’t bypass her scales, and she can clear the way.”

“There’s always the chance they have deadlier weapons than we expect,” Patch cautioned. “Your scale secretion makes tech weapons moot, but there’s a chance they have a device that penetrates your skin, especially since they dealt with terrons in Ambercaast and might have prepared for them here.”

“There’s no way out if we go back,” Scand translated. “We’ll hit senseless khentauree or the Red Tridents or Caardinva’s people.”

The terron sounded as if she had already decided on that course of action, and planned to barrel down the corridor, with companions or not.

“Go, go,” Vision said. She slipped her hand under Spring’s arm and pulled the khentauree into the wall, giving Tia plenty of room to pass.

Shouts reverberated to them; light pointed at them, bright, blinding.

Caught.