After setting aside the blank, the khentauree pried the door open far enough that they could squeeze through. The metal screeched and curled back, like a sheet of heavy paper. That they could not shut the door bothered Lapis, but it was dented beyond quick repair. She wanted to hide the sad remains, somehow create a grave for them that did not have constant khentauree interaction.

She adjusted her pack, wishing the alarms would cease, ready to step into the hallway after a cautious Patch. She cast a last look at the blank. Poor chassis, smashed by a hoof. Would it be possible, to turn it on after they dealt with Bov Caardinva?

A glint of gold in the eye caught her attention. There, gone. Had she noticed an orange reflection off it? Probably. Spooked, she hustled through the door.

A head peeked out of the doorway where the broken khentauree lay. Patch raised his tech weapon.

“It is Heven,” Chiddle said. “Do not strike.”

Vision hummed, and the other local hummed in return.

“Her programming has completed,” Chiddle said. Satisfaction leaked through the hum. “She is no longer wed to Ree-god. She says there were others, but they returned to their shelters. She does not know why she was not compelled to follow your orders. She may be a special khentauree. Vision did not follow them, either.”

Lapis had not realized her words might affect Vision. A stupid oversight, on her part.

“Spring finished the diagnostic. Heven was able to get her to complete Ree-god’s program, but that was before the interference. She does not think we can initiate a mass shut down, even with access to a viable terminal.” He squeezed past Patch and looked within the room. “They want to come with us, but Spring cannot walk.”

“How do you move broken khentauree?” Lapis asked.

“There are wheeled devices with a flatbed. That is what Ambercaast miners used.” Chiddle hummed and Heven clicked back. “She says they once had flat metal sheets that hovered over the ground, but they long ago stopped functioning. She must retrieve a wheeled one from the other hallway.”

Lapis glanced at Patch. He did not want to cart a khentauree with them, she could tell from his body language. She did not blame him, but leaving a vulnerable being to the hostile mercies of those who might not finish their program was wrong.

“OK. She does know we need to hurry, right?”

Heven and Vision left with the haste of fire at their heels. Did they feel the oppressive weight of the alarm-desecrated hallways bearing down? Did they fear the other khentauree, and what they might do if they thought they harmed Ree-god? Lapis jumped at every noise, mostly coming from the bent door metal protesting its new form. Both Chiddle and Patch stared at her; she bowed her head as small shivers raced through her arms.

The clang of a flatbed clattering over tiles never sounded so sweet. They loaded Spring and as much of the sponoil as the vehicle could carry, and left the sad remains of a non-existent god and her glass grave behind.

Was this a workstation or a palace? Lapis eyed the décor with distaste as they took the passage Patch and Spring came from, then strayed into a golden retreat. Beyond the Cloister, the rooms became a gaudy example of a rich fanatic’s paradise. Whatever could have gold slapped on it, whether it was a cup or wallpaper or chair or cabinet, did. The carpet even had golden threads.

Murals of Stars’ myths decorated the walls above the wainscotting, sections curving to the ceiling and surrounding round, bright tech lights that represented the Stars themselves. The serious nature of the themes drowned under the lushness of color, and Lapis hated that Kez spiffied up atrocities with joyous paint. The choices of violent images held in sacred awe never seemed to represent the deities being worshipped, but flawed human hate uplifted into the most holy of acts. She supposed not much had changed in the passing centuries when it came to religious abuse.

Would Ree Helvasica have become a god in the same vein? Good thing, she was nothing but a mummified corpse.

When they entered another room where gold coated every surface, Lapis wanted to spit to mar the shine. She winced at the over-bright reflections and covered her eyes with her palms. Blinding visitors with the fake splendor of gods obviously appealed to Kez. She wondered, if Ree’s ascension into a khentauree’s body was a precursor to his own, and the reason he freaked out was that he saw his own godhood die with her.

Chiddle disliked it as well, only he put his hoof through a door to show his displeasure, rather than open it with the wall panel. Patch just laughed, and she did not have to guess at the local’s confusion.

The Ambercaast khentauree, while they hid, did not seem as sheltered as the workstation mechanical beings. She pondered why. Brander’s story concerning his grandfather, who, in Vali’s company, watched a ceremony Ghost performed, meant some interaction with living beings took place. Perhaps that explained it, especially if Vali visited them on a regular basis. She brought in an outside perspective denied this group.

They arrived in a resplendent foyer with a golden chandelier the size of Lapis’s room at the Eaves. It held no decoration other than paintings and ancient photographs highlighting the same man hanging in the spaces between flaking pilasters. He had a mustache and sleek black hair with a curl in the center of his forehead, a style she associated with the Taangin invasion of Theyndora. He wore tailored jackets of various colors, with three tips of a star peeking out of his breast pocket. Gold skin gleamed in all representations. How much makeup did he wear to look like a poorly carved statue?

She nudged Chiddle. “Can you ask if that’s Maphezet Kez?”

“They say yes.” He trotted over and pointed to an elegant woman in a white dress who appeared in many of the pictures. She wore a severe umber bun and sported enough makeup to drown a fish. Her golden-cheeked, red-lipped smile, filled with contempt, disturbed Lapis. “This is Ree-god.”

“She reminds me of my family,” Patch said, a snarl on his lips.

“The others are members of Maphezet Kez’s cult and dignitaries.” He motioned to another. “Heven says this is Juni Lepaa, who took over the cult after Maphezet Kez went away. He put himself in all the pictures after the fact. That is why he looks odd in them.”

The man wore white robes with a gold sash over one shoulder that had stars plastered all over it. His wide smile never reached his dull brown eyes in the photographs, though the paintings made them sparkle.

She wanted to leave it all behind.

A grand arch, something Lapis assumed Kez took from an ancient Taangin temple, framed a gold-encrusted door. Patch eyed it, and Chiddle buzzed.

“That is the human resting chamber,” he said. “Only certain khentauree were allowed inside.”

“He really thought highly of himself, didn’t he?” she asked.

“Yes. The arch is from the ruins of Tedar Zan. I do not know what it was, but Maphezet Kez said it was important to the Stars.”

Depressing.

They encountered no other khentauree before they reached a hallway with a hole in the wall leading to a rough tunnel. The nearest beings, at least, had returned to wherever they rested. Hopefully they remained there and stayed safe, because she doubted the murderous goons at the Shivers much cared about programming problems if they felt threatened. Destroyed khentauree could not attack.

The way, while it did not have the huge dips previous tunnels possessed, bounced the sponoil off the flatbed with efficiency. Lapis and Patch scooped up and held the cans, and the khentauree navigated the vehicle through the winding passage. Interesting, how many back ways there were. Why not stick to the pre-made corridors? It wasn’t as if they had to avoid human contact for the last handful of centuries.

They walked long enough, her arms ached from holding the sponoil. Just before they threatened to give out, Vision stopped. They stopped.

“We are near the others,” Chiddle whispered. “There are khentauree and Vision is afraid they will attack.”

Lapis dropped the cans, relieved. “I can make them stop.”

“Lanth—” Patch began.

She kissed him into silence. Chiddle held out his hand; she grasped it and mounted, then he slipped past the flatbed and raced down the path. Vision buzzed something but, since Lapis did not understand what she said, she did not have to listen.

His cyan light illuminated the way, over uneven ground littered with palm-sized stone. They exited onto a ledge that overlooked a tall, long cavern with a gouged, empty stream bed in the center. Now frost coated the rocks, sparkling in the blue glow.

Echoes of khentauree noise came from the lighter grey atmosphere to the left, and she thought she heard the faint roar of the tera-khent. The exit? Chiddle hopped down, jarring her, and galloped down the rock-free side of the once-stream.

He pranced to the left, nearly throwing her off, and she clutched his torso tighter. The bed went over a cliff’s edge and into a haze below. They stopped and peered down; the gleam of khentauree skin filtered through the thin mist, from far more individuals than Lapis expected.

They confronted a mixed group of Jiy and Ragehill rebels, many pointing tech weapons at them. Mint and Tia stood in front of their human companions. They semi-blocked the light from the exit, casting all in odd shadows and making things difficult to see from the high vantage point.

Well, she had her voice. “MEKOT! Maphezet Kez!”

All eyes turned to her. Khentauree heads swiveled up, but not one took another step.

“What was shut down again?"

“Mevoto dees. You should say ‘Kredi un Maphezet Kez. Mevoto dees.‘”

“KREDI UN MAPHEZET KEZ! MEVOTO DEES!”

As one, heads swiveled back, bowed, and they stilled.

Chiddle buzz-hummed. “Impressive. They listened.”

All but one. They turned and cyan grew in the center of their forehead. Chiddle bounded away as the attack tore through the rock and earth, showering the streambed with new material.

“Lanth. Say ‘Krealti narjill zank. Ree-god ma nadaashi.’”

“What’s that mean?”

“End the code. Ree-god has ascended.”

She shouted that, a couple of times to get the inflection right, as attacks blew through the edges of the cliff. Perhaps the echo disrupted the words enough, the local khentauree could not understand them. Chiddle growled and leapt onto the wall, sliding down the curved stone and prancing across jutting rocks. His own head glowed and a precise strike severed his opponent’s arm at the shoulder. Sparks and drops of sponoil flew after the lost appendage.

He must have a thing, for injuring arms and shoulders.

“Chiddle!” Sanna called, her disapproval thick. He buzzed at her, and she buzzed back, both sounding like an angry bee swarm.

The head of the khentauree blazed with light; Chiddle’s crackling response, as dead as when he spoke to Vision, made the other mechanical being pause. Then they both looked up to the cliff’s edge; Lapis twisted to see Vision, Heven and Patch staring down. He still carried sponoil cans and looked pissed. She grinned at him, which he sullenly did not return.

The attacking khentauree’s light dimmed and a frantic buzzing commenced. She did not know what to do; dismount or remain. She did not want to interfere with whatever they said to one another, especially if it prompted the local to continue their assault.

Chiddle held out his hand and curled his fingers, as if holding a stick. A long shaft of glowing white, similar to what surrounded Ghost’s spheres, shot from his palm, creating a pole with a spear tip that sizzled with lightning.

Lapis stared. She thought Ghost was the only khentauree with such fantastical abilities.

“You should get down,” Chiddle said. She slid from his back and ran to the congregation of Jilvayna and Ragehill rebels, stuttering to a stop next to Jhor, who stood between the two terrons. Sanna blared her unhappiness, keeping her head directed to the fight while her body turned and stamped back and forth.

“Did you know Chiddle could make that spear?” she huffed.

“Yes,” the modder said. “The khentauree who have Gedaavik’s unique code can do a number of things the others can’t.” He shook his head. “He’s running hotter than normal.”

“He doesn’t like Vision, and that’s probably why. She’s a fortune teller. She said we’d free the khentauree here.”

“Fortune teller?” Sanna asked, her head swiveling to her. “Khentauree do not divine.”

“She does. Whether you believe her or not is a different tale. She can replicate the nighttime sky in a floating mist, though. It’s pretty.”

Sanna growled as Caitria and Linz scurried up.

“Are you alright?” Linz asked.

“We’re fine,” Lapis said as the local khentauree backed a pace from Chiddle. “It’s been an adventure.”

“So you and Patch made the khentauree go berserk?” Tearlach asked, eyeing the confrontation with his tech weapon raised in one hand, pointed at the ceiling.

“Chiddle’s the one who disconnected Ree-god. She’s a mummified corpse and was still attached to a console. There was static from it, which the local khentauree interpreted as her divine words. He wasn’t thrilled with that and destroyed the connection. Patch helped him.”

Jhor frowned. “Why keep a corpse connected? The khentauree could remove her.”

“They were ordered not to, because the guy who owned this workstation and the mine, Maphezet Kez, tried to put her consciousness into a blank khentauree. It didn’t work. Vision said he went crazy, and they don’t know what happened to him afterwards. The man who took over for him told them to take care of Ree-god until she entered the khentauree. Heven,” and she pointed to the cliff, “had her worship program complete when we disconnected Ree. We just have to give the locals time to run through it.”

“We’re not going to have much of it,” Jhor said. “The scientists at the mines said that a bunch of khentauree attacked them and the mercenaries. Everyone scattered, but once Bov Caardinva’s people get their wits back, they’ll hunt them down.”

“Now’s the perfect time to get the scientists he kidnapped away from him,” Tearlach said. “But we need to act fast, and hostile khentauree are going to slow us down.”

“Maybe. Or maybe, if we ask nice, Vision and Heven can show us the fastest way to get to the Shivers and avoid contact. If we do encounter others, most of the khentauree obey my orders, as long as I say I work for Maphezet Kez.”

“We’ll discuss it when we get them down,” Tearlach said, jerking his chin to Patch and the three khentauree on the cliff.

Lapis nodded as Caitria and Linz surged ahead. Brander squeezed her shoulder and followed as Chiddle and the local faced off. Sanna sounded like a teakettle, and Jhor snagged her arm before she barreled in between them.

“Are all your chases like this, Lady?” Scand asked, excited.

Scand? She looked over at the rat; he and Rin stood, entranced, just behind Mint. She had half-expected him to remain at Ragehill, especially because of his youth, but there he was. With the threat of Caardinva’s mercs, she disliked dragging the two into the mine, even if they helped Mint and Tia with communication.

“No.” She hoped she said it firmly enough he believed her. Their nearest compatriots chuckled, all but one.

Ty.

Lapis did not appreciate Lorcan’s decision to send him on the mission.

“Is fine, Lady,” Rin whispered. She dragged her gaze away from him and shook her head, perturbed. The rat went along with most things, since doing so made life on the streets easier. Why make him watch his back in an already dangerous situation because the Ragehill rebel thought Ty needed experience in something other than resentment? Did he not grasp the precarious predicament they navigated?

“Rin, Scand, you’re going to stick with Mint and Tia. No scouting around, nosing around, messing around. Don’t engage with Ty unless absolutely necessary. Make sure, if you speak with him, you’re in company.” She met the taller rat’s eyes. “And don’t stab him.”

“Not plannin’ on it,” he muttered, indignant. “And Tearlach already gave us this talk. We knows what we’s doin’.”

No, they did not. None of them did. But that was life at the present, and they had to go where it flowed.