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Chapter 20

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Jayce stumbled off the bottom stair and leaned a shoulder against a building with a slanted wall.

“Knees . . . hurt so much,” he panted.

“You aren’t even in your thirties,” Dastin said to him. “You have no idea how all this rucking and hiking will catch up to your knees. And back. Neck. Ankles.”

“Where are they?” Sarai drew her hilt. “Where are the bandits?”

Maru held his glaive staff to one side and looked around slowly.

“Those that die in the Veil discorporate,” Maru said. He swept a foot through a smattering of marble dust on the solid concrete ground. “I didn’t see wings on any of them. Did you?”

“Was that a joke?” Jayce asked. “Did he just crack a joke?” He put a hand against the wall and ran his touch down the seams of the stones. He stepped back and looked over the construction. None of the bricks were uniform, all were shaped differently and fit together like a massive jigsaw puzzle.

“Ah, polygonal masonry.” Maru held the cross guard of his bladeless glaive up to the wall. “We’ve seen this on some Ancient worlds. This construction proved resilient to natural disasters and earthquakes. Built to last, not to impress.”

“We can spelunk archaeological sites later, sir,” Dastin said. “How do we get through this city? Looked like a labyrinth from up there.”

“Got a feeling there’s going to be lots of walking.” Jayce sat against the slanted wall and slid down. He rolled up a pant leg and winced at a cut down his shin.

“Bah, rub some dirt on it,” Dastin grumbled and pulled out a first aid kit.

“We can’t afford a limp.” Maru lifted Jayce’s injured leg and set it across his knee.

“Ooh, are we going to eat his limb?” Neff sniffed at the wound.

“Wait. What’s happening?” Jayce’s eyes lingered on a combat knife attached to Dastin’s gear.

“Just relax.” Maru slapped his hands together and a glow grew between his palms. He spread his hands apart as thin plasma streams jumped between his digits. He clamped onto Jayce’s injury and a shock ran up Jayce’s leg.

Pain seared from the injury and burned like Maru was somehow cauterizing the wound. Maru pulled his hands away and he collapsed to his side.

Jayce cried out and squeezed his shin. Dried blood sloughed off, but the cut was gone. He scratched at the wound, and it felt normal. Not even a scar.

Maru gasped and sat up. He covered his mouth and coughed. Water sprayed out of his gills and splashed against Jayce and Dastin.

“How’d you do that?” Jayce asked.

“It’s very . . .” Maru coughed and bent forward to rest his forehead against the ground. “. . . It takes a great deal out of me. Please . . . no one else get injured.”

Sarai rubbed Maru’s back as she helped him up.

“You can’t strain yourself like this, Master. You’re not as young as you used to be,” she said.

“None of us are.” Maru leaned heavily on his glaive staff. “We need a way through the city. Suggestions?”

“Haven’t you been through here before?” Jayce asked. “Or someone from the Sodality?”

Maru touched his forehead, then raised an empty hand to the sky.

“The labyrinth is . . . difficult. The layout changes as the distance between the Veil and our reality shifts. Most who enter lose their way and break anchor to return home.”

“And the rest?” Jayce asked.

“They never return.” Maru lowered his hand.

“I should’ve figured.” Jayce laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back against the wall. He stared at the sky and worked his jaw from side to side.

“We have a bearing toward the Pinnacle,” Sarai said. “So long as we can sense where it is, we know which way to go . . . but we need to be in Flow state and there may not be room to do the kata properly.”

“Maru?” Jayce asked. “Does the sky ever change?”

“How do you mean?” the Wottan asked.

“The cracks in the ice—or whatever it is—I haven’t noticed a difference. We’d use the stars to navigate the seas back home when the geo-positioning satellites would fritz out . . . and we all saw that river, right?” He stood up and quickly tested putting weight on his newly healed leg. “We just get to the river and follow the current and it’ll dump us out on the other side of the city. Not too far off if we walked a straight line through the labyrinth—which we can’t.”

“Every time we jump a wall we skyline ourselves to anyone else nearby,” Dastin said. “Squeaker may be on to something.”

“The sky wall is consistent,” Maru said. “But the river . . . there are risks.”

“It’s my first time here, but what’s the least risky option?” Jayce asked.

“Orient to the features in the sky wall and head toward the Pinnacle.” Maru pointed a weak hand into the polygonal masonry quarter. “Then we follow the river. If a better opportunity presents itself, we’ll seize it.”

“I smell the water.” Eabani pointed the same direction. “Cold . . . sterile.”

“Same march order,” Dastin said. When they were moving again, he got closer to Maru. “We may need to stop for a few hours to sleep, sir.”

“Not here.” Maru shook his head. “There’s a presence around us, a darkness like we faced in the clearing.”

“Where?” Dastin scanned the walls.

“I . . . I can’t tell. Most distressing,” Maru said. “I’ve never felt anything quite like it within the Veil.”

“What about outside the Veil?” Dastin asked. Neff curled tighter against the Paragon’s shoulder.

Maru didn’t answer. He stopped relying on his staff and walked faster.

Jayce felt blisters rising on his feet as they continued through the silent city. They doubled backed more than once when their route led to a dead end. Eabani drew a knife and pressed the tip against a wall they’d just turned around.

“No, others can follow any mark you leave,” Maru said.

“I’ll carve arrows pointing the wrong way.” Eabani plucked the knife tip a few inches off the wall. “We just have to remember to go the opposite direction.”

“When is it ever wise to assume your foe is a fool?” Maru asked.

Eabani considered the question for a moment, then sheathed his knife.

“Water’s this way. You blunt noses should at least hear it by now,” Eabani said. “No? Then follow me.”

The party went through a zigzagging passageway. Jayce saw the river between Maru’s and Dastin’s shoulders. He looked behind them, then turned back.

Jayce smacked into a wall. He was in a dead end and there was no one around.

“Maru? Dastin?” Jayce spun around. “What is wrong with this—sky wall?” He looked straight up and pointed at the cracks in the faux-ice. “Eel switchback next to the trident break in the hull. OK, using the sky as an atlas still works.”

He jogged back the way he came, then turned around to see if the new wall had vanished. Still there. He returned to a courtyard with a sunken path through the center and went toward an exit that he prayed would still get him to the river.

“Maru must’ve had an excellent reason not to tell me the labyrinth could move,” he muttered. “Unless he didn’t know. How could he not know? He’s super old and knows everything. Why am I talking to myself?”

A chill rose as he moved deeper down the narrow corridor. The polygonal masonry blocks became larger the farther he went. Then the rocks began to show signs of wear—cracks from damage and stress split through many and pebbles rolled down the slanted walls. He came to a T-intersection and turned to the right.

The quarter had collapsed into a cave entrance. Blue and white bones littered the outside.

“That’s . . . don’t think so.” He backed away. A glowing yellow eye lit up from the abyss. Jayce dropped his pack and ignited his hilt. He thrust the blade in front of him, hoping the light would scare off whatever predator was inside.

“I’ll always find you,” came from the cave. Reman stepped partway out of the cave, his head visible. The Draug’s cyborg eye had been replaced with a dark orb. One arm was stiff against his body, and the augmented muscles were missing, giving him a weakened, lopsided appearance. Reman spat a bone to the ground.

“Back! I know how to use this,” Jayce said, the sword shaking in his hand.

“I doubt that . . . I doubt that very much,” Reman said. “The meat here has no taste. It is like eating air, but one doesn’t learn unless one tries. We are of the same plain . . . could I feast on you before the Veil takes your soul? Human meat has a particular flavor if it’s seasoned with fear.”

“Come closer, you’ll see how well I can use this. Lot of talk from some space dog with one good—”

Reman flicked out his good arm and long Fulcrum blades appeared from a converted hilt on his wrist. Wisps of plasma danced between the blades.

“OK, OK you’ve got one too. Good for you.” Jayce looked around for an exit, but the only escape route was behind him, and turning his back on Reman did not strike him as a good idea.

“They’ve initiated you into the cult,” Reman growled. “Lies atop lies to bring you here—for what? What did they promise you? Coin? Mates? None of it will matter soon.”

“You killed my friend. I owe you for Kay,” Jayce said.

“Death is a concern for lesser beings. The Tyrant’s path can save everyone from it . . . You haven’t claimed a stone yet.” Reman took a step closer, and Jayce scrambled back. “But you must have seen the prize in the old cathedral from the forest. Why risk this place when you could have that kind of power in your grasp?”

“Kay had . . . a lot of cousins, brothers, and sisters. The number changed based on how desperate he was for money. He used to catch star perch for me when I couldn’t buy food. Why’d you have to kill him? He was never any threat to you.” Jayce took a step forward.

“Because I knew I would enjoy it.”

Reman sprang forward, lightning claw driving straight at Jayce’s face. Jayce swiped a parry across his body and deflected the strike into the wall. The blade sank easily up to the hilt rig over the alien’s knuckles.

Jayce raised his blade to strike, and put too much strength into the attack. He lost his footing as the blade sailed over the wolfen alien’s head. Reman kicked Jayce in the chest and sent him tumbling backward. The hilt skittered across the solid stone walkway.

Reman howled as he fought to extricate his weapon from the wall. The rig ran up to his elbow and wouldn’t give. His other arm was too crippled to undo the straps.

Jayce rolled over and scooped up his hilt and ran. His chest ached from the blow and he careened from one wall to another. He lost track of where he was or where he was going, all he needed to do was get away from the terror behind him.

Reman’s howl cut him to his core, and Jayce ran faster, an atavistic fear driving him into a panic. He swore he could smell Reman’s breath on the back of his neck. He turned a corner and saw the river through a tight gap in the walls.

Jayce called out for help. Reman swiped at him; the claws knocked off a hunk of rock and sent a cloud of dust into Jayce’s eyes. He ran blind and wiped his face just in time to see the gap was only a few steps ahead.

Jayce dove through the gap, but his foot caught on the edge. He rolled to his back and swiped his weapon in a wild cut across his body. His hand hit the ground and the hilt bounced out of the grip.

Jayce raised his arms to cover his face . . . and only heard the burble of running water.

“Jayce . . . what the hell are you doing?” Dastin asked. The gunnery sergeant stood next to him, his hands on his hips.

“Huh? I found you? Tyrant soldier!” He pointed at the gap . . . which was now a solid wall.

“How’d you get over here?” Dastin turned to an exit several yards away. “You were behind me.”

“Wall! Wall there.” Jayce clutched the hilt to his chest as he fought to breathe. “Wall then maze and wolf—wolf thing! Chased me. Big claws. Teeth. Going to eat me!”

“Not funny funny is it?” Neff called out from atop Maru’s shoulder.

“Where’s your gear?” Dastin crossed his arms over his chest. Jayce pointed at the wall.

“Give him a minute.” Maru hurried over. “How long were you separated from us?”

“Couple of minutes at least.” Jayce rinsed his mouth out with water from the tube connected to his harness. “Why weren’t any of you looking for me? There was a wolf thing!”

“Calm down.” Maru patted his shoulder. “You haven’t been gone that long. We just crossed the threshold to the river moments ago.”

Jayce thrust his finger at the wall several times. The terror in his chest was subsiding, and he felt like he was about to cry.

“I believe you.” Maru touched Jayce’s hand. The Wottan’s skin was clammy, but the contact helped calm him down. “Perhaps this is why so few can get through the labyrinth . . . it may have a mind of its own.”

“It was—it was the one from the docks. The cyborg wolf, but his machine parts were missing. Like Dastin,” Jayce said.

“Likely not an apparition, then. Those are details your mind wouldn’t have created. We best not tarry here,” Maru said.

“He has Draug scent to him.” Neff slunk behind Maru’s back. “They eat Docents. They eat everything. Bad bad clients.”

“You lost your gear.” Dastin’s good eye began to twitch.

“Wolf alien was chasing me.” Jayce stood up and brushed himself off. “I regret nothing.”

“Not yet you don’t,” Dastin said.

“The bridge is stable!” Sarai shouted from a series of floating steps that crossed halfway over the river. The water was fast and turbulent, nothing Jayce wanted to wade into. Sarai put her hands on a floating block and pressed hard. It didn’t budge.

“Both banks lead to the same place,” Jayce said. “No reason to be up there.”

“There’s more room on the other side.” Sarai shook her head and went up a step. Even with the extra weight of her pack, the floating step was perfectly still.

“Antigrav like that’s expensive,” Dastin said. “Only see it in research labs or the megacorporation headquarters back on Cadorra.”

Jayce scratched the back of his shoulder and felt a claw mark through the fabric. He stopped a few steps shy of the riverbank and paused. He looked over the water, his attention lingering on a still patch on the other side. A shadow shifted beneath the water.

“Sarai . . . stop. Don’t move!” Jayce yelled.

“Why?” She put her hands on a floating platform and tested if it would move or not. She scraped her boots across the stone she was on and raised a knee onto the next step.

Bubbles broke against the surface of the still section of the river.

“Moving moving,” Neff pointed to the river.

Sarai stood up on the next stone.

“Whoever built this side must’ve been larger than most sentients,” she said. “The height of these stairs—”

A dark green hydra burst from the river. Its three heads had no eyes but the wide mouth of needle teeth snapping all around would eventually chomp onto something. A pair of heads latched onto a floating stone and tore it to pieces. Another head knocked against the step holding Sarai and flipped her backward.

Her head banged against another stone and Jayce watched her fall limp and unconscious into the raging water.

“Sarai!” Jayce ran to the river, ignoring whatever commands or warnings Maru and the Marines shouted after him. He locked his hilt to his belt and dived headfirst into the river. He dove deep and saw Sarai rolling just beneath the rapids. Her pack dragged her deeper and deeper.

He kicked his legs and stroked hard to reach her. His first grab at her missed her ankles. He swam harder, feeling a slow burn rising in his lungs the longer he was underwater.

Jayce ripped one strap off her shoulder, and was dragged deeper with her. They hit the bottom and the current pushed him down the river. He kept hold of her wrist and the force of the rushing water rolled her out from the other strap and she bumped into his chest.

A hydra head struck the pack and shook it apart.

He got an arm around her waist and kicked up to the surface.

Jayce sucked in a deep breath and rolled Sarai’s head over the water. The rapids buffeted them back and forth but didn’t move them any closer to either bank.

An ululating roar carried over the sound of the rapids. Jayce spun around and saw the hydra diving up and down through the water toward them. A head rose on a tall neck, the skin had scales and old scars running up and down it. Nostrils flared and the head snapped toward Jayce and Sarai.

Flesh rolled back from rotting teeth and the ancient hydra head reared back to strike.

A crossbow bolt struck the head from behind and pierced through the eye. Jayce kicked hard, trying to get them both away from the wounded beast. The hydra thrashed from one side of the river to the other as the lesser heads went berserk. The beast stopped chasing them but wasn’t going to give the rest of the party an easy time getting passed it.

Jayce checked that Sarai was still breathing, then tried to prop her body horizontal to the surface to help their buoyancy. His boots had filled with water and Sarai was growing heavier as her clothes soaked through.

The river banked suddenly and Jayce looked over his shoulder. The ruins of a collapsed building had spilled over the banks. The current carried him straight toward a dragon’s teeth of blocks jutting out of the river. He tried to grab one but bounced hard off it instead.

Jayce cried out in pain but kept himself between Sarai and more of the broken walls. He careened off another, scraping one side of his face against rough masonry. His leg struck something hard and unforgiving beneath the surface, but he kept his hold on Sarai.

Blood stung one eye and Jayce kicked to move them closer to the center of the river as the current sped up.

“Ah . . . ah, Sarai, you want to wake up?” he panted. “Could use some . . . participation here.”

The cityscape changed to smaller buildings and degraded to wide fields of grain after several minutes. Jayce kept kicking to keep them afloat, but his muscles burned and his head began to dip below the surface between every pulse.

The current slowed and Jayce spied a sandy bend in the river. He used his last bit of strength to get them to the bank and one foot touched mud. He dragged Sarai off the bank and laid her next to a massive, dead tree.

Jayce rolled her to her side and she coughed several times. He fell face-first into the sand, exhausted. Blood from the cut on one side of his head seeped into grains of sand the size of ball bearings and got snorted into his nose during massive heaves of his chest.

He rolled to his back and touched his belt. The hilt was still there, as were the hydrator and a small emergency pack on his hip. He raised a waterlogged boot and let it fall back to the bank with a wet squish.

“I should’ve . . . I should’ve stayed home.” He put a hand over the cut and winced at how much blood came away from the touch.

“Ow,” Sarai stirred. “Ow, what . . . what?”

“Everything sucks,” Jayce groaned. “But there’s some good news. We don’t have to carry that shit anymore.”

“There was . . . What was that thing?” Sarai put a hand to her head. She tried to get up but lost her balance and crashed onto Jayce.

“You are not OK.” Jayce steadied her. “Stay still, wait for your—wait.” He opened the emergency case on his belt and fiddled with an injector and tiny pellets in color-coded boxes on the case. He snapped a yellow one into the base and jabbed the other end into Sarai’s neck.

“Ow!” She slapped his hand away. “What did you just give to me—ugh!” She retched water and the remnants of her last nutrient-paste meal into the sand.

“Cerebro injection.” Jayce scooted his leg away from the vomit. “Treats the concussion and wards off any permanent injury. It’ll make you woozy for a bit.”

Sarai went to the river and splashed water in her mouth and spat it out.

“Mouth’s still dry, but at least I got the taste out,” she said. Her hands trembled and she clutched them against her chest.

“Tremors are normal too. Means the medicine’s working. But if there’s any facial paralysis and everything turns yellow, then you got a bad batch,” Jayce said. “Cerebro’s great for prizefighters, extends our careers and keeps most of us from becoming punch-drunk dock trash before our time. Good promoters would give us a dose after a fight if the crowd was happy with the show.”

“Getting punched in the head so much . . . did it mean you were good or bad at fighting?” Sarai asked.

“I had to eat, and glove leather has a crap taste to it.” Jayce sat up.

Another large tree was in the middle of the field. The horizon was dark with the promise of another rainstorm.

“We’re going to need cover,” Jayce said. He looked over the tree near the bank and kicked at the roots. “I’d rather not be too close to the water. That hydra might still be alive and it was pissed.”

“Help me.” She held up a hand. He lifted her up and held her steady as they slowly made their way to the other tree. She glanced at him every few steps.

“Why’d you save me? I am . . . awful to you,” she said.

“I’m a river rat. Ratter’s job is to watch out for shipmates and keep predators away. That thing back there? Way worse than anything on Hemenway,” he said.

They reached the tree, which was several stories high. The root swells were almost as tall as Jayce in some spots. Sarai found a depression under one of the roots just large enough for the both of them as the crystal rain began to fall.

“Here.” Sarai gave him a shiny folded square, which blossomed into a rigid board. He set the board over the gap beneath the root as the rain picked up.

“Ow!” Jayce pulled back his hand from the outside. A flake of crystal was embedded between two knuckles.

“Let me get it.” Sarai took a plastic tube from her emergency pack and cracked it. It lit up with a pale green light, and she tucked it into a fold of the roots to illuminate the shelter. She plucked the crystal out of his skin, and it disintegrated into steam while she held it.

Rain broke against the cover with cracks of collapsing ice and dropped mirrors.

“Thanks,” Jayce said.

“Let me get that cut.” She turned his head and dabbed at the laceration with a buzzing applicator from his kit. The smell of burning hair and singed flesh filled the small space. She sat back against the dirt wall, her shoulder against his in the tight space.

She sighed. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“You don’t say?” Jayce smiled, and that hurt too.

“We had one of the best Docents in the business. Should’ve just been an easy get in—get stone—get out. Instead, Maru’s trying to get us to the Pinnacle, which I thought was either a myth or a tall tale they tell baby Attuned to keep their eyes wide and tails bushy for this.”

“And now there’s one of the Tyrant’s killers after us. At least one,” Jayce said. “Are there high casualty rates for Pilgrims and Attuned that come here? Because this is a garbage tourist destination.”

“Most Pilgrims stay in the shallow part of the Veil. They commune with whatever deities they think are here and they hop right back through the gate they entered. No need for anchors. The more adventurous—or greedy—enter deeper and try to bring back every last fleck and stone they can get their hands on. Most of them get hurt or killed after they come back, as fewer survivors mean bigger cuts for anyone that’s left. Those that go after ship-class stones or need to synch with a Veil stone like we do to be full Adepts . . . it’s harder.”

“You don’t say.” Jayce sighed. “How many Attuned from your Sodality academies drop anchor before they can get a stone?”

“We say ‘crack anchor,’ and it’s around half. They get here and realize it’s not as easy and magical as the holos made it out to be, or they figure out that if they claim a stone, then their life as Paragon in service to the Sodality and the Governance will be nothing but pain and sacrifice. Which is why the Sodality and Marines work so closely. Most Attuned go through their training to weed out the weak ones.”

“Did you do that?” Jayce asked.

“No . . . no, I had Dastin and Eabani with me since I was a little girl. Two full-time tutors was better than going through boot camp with the commoners—at least that’s how my mother rationalized it.”

Jayce patted at the cut.

“You’d make a good corner. Your mom hold the keys to a planet or territory or something?” Jayce asked.

She gave him a dirty look. “Why do you think she’s some sort of Syndicate criminal?”

“Sorry, Syndicate are the only power structure I’m familiar with.”

“She’s important enough. How connected are you to the Syndicate?”

“I wasn’t even a hanger-on. Never a prospect. Good thing I was a prizefighter, ’cause if you were affiliated no one would bet on you. Everyone’d assume the fight was fixed. Syndicate got their cut on all the books and the purses. They made more money off me not being affiliated than if I did work for them.”

“That sounds like the Syndicate. Bunch of greedy criminals.” Sarai crossed her arms and began shivering. “Can’t drink the water here, but it’ll sure make you wet and cold.”

Jayce took his jacket off and squeezed water out. He put it to one side and rubbed his arms.

“Get the wet fabric away from your skin. You’ll be warmer than with it on,” he said.

“This how you get the girls back home?” She snorted and shivered harder. The cold made her breath fog.

“Be cold. Or don’t. It’s up to you, but hypothermia’s no fun. I almost died on a fishing run to the southern pole two seasons ago. Weather didn’t cooperate but the captain had to pull all his crab pots or he’d lose his boat. So what if some crew don’t make it home?”

“Of all the laws of physics to stay the same, why does thermodynamics have to be so consistent?” She stripped off her wet jacket and threw it at her feet. She plucked at her undershirt as her lips went blue.

“You’re warm?” she asked.

“I’m OK.”

“Can you put your arm over my shoulders—in the most platonic way possible—please?”

“I don’t know what plate tonics are, but sure.” He raised an arm and she snuggled up to him. Her shivering subsided after a few minutes.

“It means don’t try anything. I bite,” she said. “Thank you for not losing your hilt . . . Can I see it?”

Jayce unsnapped it and handed it to her. She held it like it was delicate and ran her fingertips across the stone in the cross guard.

“Why don’t you want me?” she asked, staring at the hilt. “Can you hear me this deep in the Veil?” She held her arm out and squeezed, trying to activate it, but it didn’t respond.

“What’s so special about it?” Jayce asked. “Why’d Maru keep it away from the other hilts he had?”

“Out of respect for me . . . and my father.” She held the hilt up to the light. “This was his Fulcrum. It even manifests the same way for you as it did for him.”

“Wait . . . wait, hold on.” Jayce’s eyes darted from side to side.

“Paragon Taras is my father. He died before I was born. He died before my mother told him she was pregnant. She thinks he didn’t know, but Paragons can feel auras. Maru’s let slip enough times that he can tell when women are with child. He knew my mother was carrying me. My father was just as strong as Maru.”

“Why keep that secret?” Jayce asked.

“You don’t know anything about the final days of the revolt? Nothing about the Battle of Tyrant’s Bane?”

“I was a toddler. My mother told me the only difference the Tyrant’s death made for us was that we paid taxes to different assholes,” he said. “She hated taxes.”

“The Sodality lured the Tyrant to a star system far in the Deep. The rebels didn’t have the ships or the firepower to destroy his war barque, the Purgation. But something about the star system disrupted large-scale Veil systems. A skilled enough pilot could slip through the shields and deliver a kill team onto the Purgation. The pilot Maru and my father wanted for the mission got herself killed days before the mission, and my mother was the only other option.”

“Brave of them,” Jayce said.

“She got the kill team through the shields just like she needed to, then my father sent her away before the Tyrant knew he was under attack. It was a suicide mission for him, he knew that. They all did. But the Tyrant had to be thrown down or his plan . . . there was too much at stake. Either he and the others killed the Tyrant or we’d all be doomed. My father loved me enough that he was willing to die so I could have a future.”

“Good man,” Jayce said.

“He struck the killing blow and died aboard the Purgation. Maru and Marshall Tulkan got the survivors off the ship before the rest of the sabotage bombs went off. Dastin was there too.” She snuggled closer to Jayce.

“Why assassinate the Tyrant if they were going to blow his ship up?” Jayce asked.

“The bombs were the distraction to pull the Tyrant’s bodyguards away from him.” She smirked. “The ship ended up being disabled and not destroyed. Most of the Tyrant’s court survived and escaped to the Deep.

“I was born nine standard months later in the middle of all the chaos before the new Governance was established . . . Few years later and Maru realized I was Attuned. My mother didn’t take it well. Since my brother’s a knob, and she’s a knob, she assumed I would be too.” She held up her hilt and motes swirled around the cross guard. “Sorry, Mom, someone had to follow in Father’s footsteps.”

“But my hilt—I mean your father’s—”

“Rejects me. Every single time I tried, it rejected me. I carried it with me for over a year, hoping that whatever part of my father’s still in there would recognize me. See me . . . accept me, but . . . never. I gave up and the blade of Xerrval the XIV practically leapt into my hand.” She looked at the pommel.

“Who’s that?” Jayce asked.

“No one’s sure. That’s the name inscribed on the bottom.” She laughed and handed the hilt back to Jayce. “I thought I’d carry my father’s weapon, the one that destroyed the Tyrant . . . but no. That wasn’t to be.”

“I’m still pretty new to all this,” Jayce said. “Are hilts usually inherited?”

“Maru always said ‘it depends,’ which is his way of politely telling me that I won’t like the answer and I should stop inquiring. Wottan aren’t known for their tact, but he’s old and has figured out how to deal with humans.”

“You know, what you have with your father’s still pretty good,” Jayce said. “My father was drafted by the Tyrant when I was a baby and my mother and I only ever heard from him one time after he was gone. He was a nobody. Just a dock rat like me.”

“Do you have a brother that’s a golden child? One that’s done everything perfectly his entire life?”

“No. Been just me for a long time. So how do we find the others?”

“Maru can scry and find us that way. Neff can sniff us out, but we were in the water and there’ll be a gap in our scent trail.” She pursed her lips. “But should we stay in one place until they find us or keep going toward the Pinnacle?”

“Dastin gave us a rally point. But that was back up the stairwell and there’s that hydra between us and that spot. Doubling back doesn’t feel like the right thing to do. But we’re not lost children, are we?”

“We’re hiding under a tree during a storm and we don’t know where the ‘adults’ are. All our water is on our backs or in our bladders. Food?” She dug a nutrient tube from her pocket. Little bits of brown goop dripped out of a large tear in the bottom.

“I don’t have anything, sorry,” Jayce said.

The storm continued; more razor flecks scratched at the shield.

“Why are you even here, Jayce? You barely knew what the Sodality was until we found you. I thought you just wanted a way off the Syndicate world. We gave that to you—the Iron Soul will take you anywhere and drop you with enough quanta to keep you in room and board until you get your feet under you.”

“Huh.” Jayce scratched the cut on the side of his head. “You ever grow up small? The only value I had was what others could squeeze out of me. Fight until your face is mush. Get up there, rat. Be thankful we pay you at all. The Syndicate would’ve paid me a fraction of what that stone was worth. There are posted rates for work that the Syndicate set, in case you didn’t know. Then the Tyrant’s people show up and kill Kay and who knows what they were going to do with me.”

“You’re Attuned. They would’ve kept you alive and forced you into here until you found a ship stone. If it makes you feel any better, the Tyrant and his lieutenants were known for taking good care of their shipmasters. All the girls and pharmaceuticals you’d care for. A well-compensated slave.”

“Keeps their shipmasters from drifting off course at critical moments,” Jayce said. “How are the Tyrant’s forces still around? Who’s even in charge?”

“That . . . is a tough question. There was anarchy for years after the Tyrant was killed. The Sodality’s forces weren’t exactly numerous. They had just enough to occupy Primus. While they were trying to convince everyone to return to the Governance we had before the Tyrant, a full-bore civil war broke out between the Tyrant’s marshals. Which ended up saving the Governance, as their infighting kept them busy. Sectors under control of the Tyrant’s lieutenants eroded until they held two-star clusters out on the edge of the Deep; they don’t even control a Ley Junction. The Governance has let them fester out on the fringe for too long. That battleship we saw over your planet’s dingy collection? First capital ship sighting from the Tyrant’s forces in years. Which is concerning.”

“How many people died after the Tyrant was killed?” Jayce asked.

“We’re still counting. The bloodshed was a catalyst to reform the Governance, at least. But during the years where there was no central government, star systems had to fend for themselves. Some turned to piracy. Some decided that was the time to settle scores against their neighbors. Enough of the Tyrant’s officers who weren’t Gripped opted for piracy or becoming warlords over their sectors. I was a child through most of the bad years. But once the Governance and the Sodality were organized enough to strong-arm rogue systems and leaders . . . most fell back in line. Peace and prosperity are better than anarchy and terror, as they figured out.

“The Governance didn’t have the economy or manpower to restore itself to her former glory everywhere. Systems in the Deep were too far and too difficult to reach. The Tyrant’s loyalists fled to the rim and the Syndicate formed between the Governance and the loyalists. Now the Syndicate has metastasized into a shadow economy and they’ve corrupted enough systems away from the Core that it’s near impossible to root them out. But the Syndicate’s not interested in being the new Governance. They’re content to control the bottom-tier systems,” Sarai said.

“The Syndicate had pretty strict rules about who controlled territory and who owed tribute to who. Most of the gangs they absorbed needed protection just like those governors you were talking about. No one gets all the money and power, but the guys that bent the knee to the Syndicate still ended up with more money and power than they knew what to do with,” he said.

“Don’t compare the Governance with those criminals. The Syndicate exists only to exploit people.” She stiffened beneath his arm.

“Yeah, I lived that for years. So, nobody gets exploited in Governance systems? Aren’t there taxes and military drafts and corruption?”

“No system is perfect, but the Governance is always trying to become more perfect.”

“How’s that working out?”

“It’s better than civil war and mass death across countless star systems.”

“That does sound better. But who’s in charge of the Tyrant’s forces? Who does that wolf alien answer to?”

“Latest intelligence we have is that a Count Nabren calls the shots. We found documents with his name on them recalling all loyal to the Tyrant’s dream to their stronghold in the Ogdru sector.” She pondered something for a moment. “When I take the stone from the Pinnacle, then I can lead a crusade to finally erase the Tyrant’s memory from the galaxy. I’ll finish what my father started.”

Jayce felt an awareness from the hilt on his hip, like something had awoken for a moment then fallen back to sleep.

“You think that’s what your father would want you to do?” he asked.

“What about your father? Think he’d be happy you’re with the Sodality when he went off to fight for the Tyrant?” she snapped.

“He was drafted. It’s not like he had the choice of being a slave soldier or not. And his salary kept my mother and me from starving for years. I think he’d be happy I’m doing this instead of working the docks until rot lung or a maw beast takes me out.”

“Do you think he’s alive?” she asked.

“No . . . I mean, Mom said he didn’t know how to read or write. But he could’ve sent word back if he was alive out there somewhere. If he is, and he’s gone this long without even trying to come home or something . . . Nah, he’s dead. Dead as he can be,” Jayce said. “I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about him. Wouldn’t make much difference.”

“Then you’re lucky. My father was the martyr that ended the Tyrant. His sacrifice was the rallying call to rebuild the Governance. When a hero dies, and anyone less than that hero fights against the cause?” She shook her head. “It puts people on one side of the moral authority line pretty easily. I see his statues everywhere. You should see the recruitment posters with him and my brother on them. It’s brilliant. My mother is a master propagandist.”

“Well, I hope you get a stone from the Pinnacle,” Jayce said. “My mom wanted my life to be better than hers. Pretty sure every parent wants that.”

“Again, you haven’t met my mother,” she said.

Jayce opened his mouth to speak but opted to stay silent.

“Say it,” she said. “I know what you’re thinking. There’s a giant hole in my story that you want to point out, but you’re just too polite to say it. Go on.”

“I don’t”—he shifted uncomfortably—“don’t know what you’re going on about.”

“If my father wanted me to become a Paragon of the Sodality and hoped I’d carry on his legacy . . . why has his Fulcrum rejected me? And it why did it choose you, of all people?”

“I was thinking that, a little bit, but I don’t have an answer. I’m guessing you don’t either.”

“At least you’re honest. And no . . . I don’t have the answer either. I thought I’d find it in the Veil, but no such luck yet. Maybe at the Pinnacle.” She snuggled against him and closed her eyes.

“What does the Sodality say is up there?” he asked.

“A test . . . and the key to the salvation or ruin of our reality and this place,” she said. “You mind keeping watch? I’m so tired . . .”

“No problem.” Jayce unlocked his hilt and kept it in hand as Sarai dozed off.

He listened to the rain fall and the steady cadence of her breathing for hours.


Reman marched into the crumbling temple. Lahash knelt before the Veil stone floating in the shrine.

“The targets are separated from the Paragon.” Reman knelt beside Lahash. “Though I lost their scent.”

“You rely upon your strength from our home realm,” Lahash said. “The Veil is a different place. We must adapt to where we are.”

“I do not have a Veil stone yet,” Reman snarled. “I am not as synched as you are.”

“This stone is worthy of you,” he said. “Take it.”

“I’ll have to leave to complete the resonance. You’ll be without me. There is a greater prize, isn’t there? Why settle for something lesser?”

“Because it serves our Lord’s purpose. Are you here for yourself?” Lahash asked.

“I am here for the paradise to come.” Reman snorted and approached the stone.


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Framed