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Chapter 14

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Maru led Sarai and Jayce down the ramp, the pair of Marines on their flanks. None carried weapons openly. Dastin’s crossbow was secured against the side of his pack. Eabani carried the heaviest load, though he didn’t seem to be bothered by the weight. The landing pad was poorly leveled quick-crete marred by scorch marks and gouges. The shadow of other ships loomed in thick fog.

Jayce fought to keep the heavy pack on his back from fouling his steps down the ramp. It seemed lighter than when aboard the Iron Soul and he considered asking if the gravity on this planet was different from what he was used to.

Lights and signs flickered in the distance.

The clink of bells and chains sounded in the fog, growing closer.

Maru stopped at the edge of the ramp and held up a hand to the rest of the party. A squat figure came out of the fog, an alien with mud-colored skin and a cone-shaped head. It wore little more than a sack and its feet were caked in dirt. Chains imbued with Veil stone hung from its chest and arms, glittering with internal lights.

Jayce couldn’t tell if it was male or female and didn’t know if that species even had such distinctions.

“Welcome, pilgrims,” the alien said. “I am Charok, herald of the Faithful. Welcome to Illara, blessed by the Veil and the Great Ones beyond.”

“We are humble travelers come to accept whatever bounty the Great Ones give to us.” Maru bowed deeply. “May we tread on this place so blessed?”

“Ah . . . you’re no stranger to our customs.” Charok’s nostrils flared. The alien snorted out of ducts on its temples. An earpiece buzzed on one side of its head. “Respect the peace we provide. Donations are accepted.”

Maru reached into a pocket and handed over a golden rod, segmented with platinum bands. He put his thumbs on a crevice then said, “We prefer our arrival remain off record.”

Charok raised a finger and waggled it to the left. Maru moved his thumbs one segment over. Charok waggled his finger again.

“We’re being robbed,” Sarai protested.

Maru looked over his shoulder at her, then back to Charok. He moved his fingers two segments and broke the rod and handed over the longer piece. Charok sniffed it, then squeezed its lips onto one end and tilted its head back and swallowed the rod.

“Respect the peace.” Charok turned to one side, which didn’t accomplish much as the alien was uniformly round at the waist, and raised a hand.

“We shall,” Maru said. “Any bounty we receive shall be taken from this world and used to spread the good word of the Great Ones.”

“Yes, yes, your business is your own. We only provide peace to those who respect it,” Charok said. The earpiece buzzed again, and the sound of engines carried through the fog.

Charok waddled away.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Maru said. “Come.”

Jayce stayed a step behind the Adept as the party walked toward the lights. He stepped off the quick-crete and into a puddle. His heel sank into mud and Jayce stopped, confused at the suction on his boot.

Maru pulled him forward with a quick tug to his arm.

“What is the ancient human curse for one who spends too much time not at sea? A dirt lubber?” Maru asked.

“Landlubber,” Jayce said. “Weird, I don’t feel the deck moving at all.”

“It’s not a deck. It’s ground,” Sarai said. “What’re you going to do when you see your first trika bull or a pterra-squirel? They’re like fish, but on land. And they breathe air. And walk. OK, they’re not like fish at all.”

“Stop giving squeaky such a hard time, little miss,” Dastin said. “He’s finally getting his land legs. Where to, boss?” he asked Maru.

“I don’t know how long we have until the Aperture opens,” Maru said. “We’ll need a Docent.”

“Master, why do you need a Docent? You could be—” Sarai glanced around. “You could be the most experienced pilgrim on the entire planet. The galaxy, even.”

“Something is . . . off. I can feel the bright points of Aperture gates most of the time. Here it’s all diffuse. Nebulous. I don’t like it. If I had a few days to meditate I could sort out the signal from the noise, but we may not have that much time,” Maru said. “Perhaps he is here.”

“Oh no, not that asshole,” Dastin said. “Sir, the chance that scumbag is here has to be a million to one.”

“He may be a rectal sphincter but I’d rather have him be our rectal sphincter than anyone else’s,” Maru said. “We need to find the Ahura lodge. There’s always at least one this close to a Pilgrimage.”

“Should I ask my dumb question or will someone tell me what an Ahura is?” Jayce asked.

“Head down. Mouth shut.” Dastin poked him in the shoulder. “Eyes open and mind alert. There’s a peace so you’ll get your scales balanced if you’re killed, but you’ll still be dead.”

The sound of voices and laughter carried through the fog as they stepped out of the muddy field and onto a raised sidewalk. Buildings made of repurposed cargo containers lined an equally muddy street. Sprinkles of rain tickled Jayce’s face and kept up an unceasing drizzle off eaves and awnings.

Storefronts carried packs of food and tools. Rows of pickaxes and shovels were set out close to the sidewalks. More than one store had bows and arrows for sale.

“Perfect stasis locks!” a woman called out from atop a box. She had small, lacquered cases in each hand. “Don’t risk imperfections. Secure your claims!”

“Make way!” came from behind Jayce.

He turned and saw torches lighting up the fog. A procession of humans and aliens, their skin daubed in gray mud and their clothes little more than rags, marched down the street. Some had fake Veil stones around their necks or carried crude approximations over their heads.

“Fanatics.” Sarai shook her head. “How much did they pay to be brought here?”

“None of our business, little miss,” Dastin said.

“Latents!” An alien similar to Eabani—yet somehow uglier—banged two bells together on one side of the procession. “Latents come forth and the Church of the Divine Light will take you to the Promised Land! Latents, join us and return paradise to this existence!”

Eabani barred needly teeth at the other Lirsa, who returned the greeting.

“Sarai”—Jayce leaned toward her—“what in the Cold Depths is going on?”

“Your planet had Veil mystics, didn’t it? Your backwater wasn’t unique in that regard. Too many cultures and fools worship the Veil and those who can use its power. Every season draws in the gullible and the desperate to try and claim a stone, or even a few flakes, with the hope of becoming more than they believe they are. The Sodality works against . . . veneration like this, but it doesn’t work. It’s never worked. And some Adepts end up believing the same pack of lies we’re supposed to fight.”

Maru slipped a coin into the palm of a clerk selling dried rodents and stomped twice on the sidewalk.

“Follow the boss,” Dastin said. Jayce was flat-footed until Eabani stiff-armed him toward the Adept.

“Anchors!” A man held up an arm to them as they passed. Leather straps with a flat ivory-colored disc in the center swayed from rings attached to his sleeve. “Exit locations guaranteed. You, young man, don’t risk your life on a fake. I’ll give you and your girlfriend a bargain, seven coins each!” He waved at Jayce.

Jayce ignored him.

“Hey! You’re going to need one of these.” The vendor reached for Jayce.

Eabani put a hand on the man’s chest and shoved him off the sidewalk. He landed flat in a wide puddle and mud sprayed over him.

A drone descended from the fog and spun around. Camera lenses clicked and changed focus, then the drone rose again.

“That was too close,” Dastin said.

“Drone saw him go for the squeaker. Defense against unwelcome contact’s not against the peace. And if he got hurt the fine’d be a coin.” Eabani shrugged. “I’ve got plenty of coins.”

“Why didn’t we buy an anchor if we need one?” Jayce asked.

“One can guarantee a product if the buyer will never return to collect,” Maru said. “We’re not risking anchors from someone off the street. I’ve never been that stupid, and I’ve never known anyone that bought one and survived.”

They continued deeper into the camp, which was street after street of prefabricated buildings and a never-ending stream of aliens Jayce had never seen before. He wanted to gawk at an avian with legs as tall as him and rainbow plumage marching down the street, but he kept his head forward.

A hooked beak snapped at the edge of the sidewalk and plucked up a squealing rodent. The animal was swallowed a moment later.

Maru stopped at a ramshackle structure made of planks of rotting wood. The upper floors were lost in the fog. He tapped a pair of coins against a locked door. A panel opened at thigh level and a thin, hairy arm thrust out a chipped cup. Maru dropped the coins in and waited.

The hand holding the cup swirled the coins around, then jiggled it.

Maru plunked in another coin with a decent amount of force.

“Is it me, or is everyone greedy down here?” Jayce asked.

“Shh!” Dastin snapped. “You want to pay extra for pissing them off?”

“Back home we could haggle the price on anything. You take the first offer and it was seen as an insult to—”

“Shh!”

“Back to ‘head down and mouth shut,’” Jayce muttered.

The cup withdrew into the building and there were rapid-fire whispers and squeaks. A peephole opened in the wall and a jaundiced yellow eye looked at Jayce for a split second. The hole snapped shut and a door creaked open after several locks unbolted.

“I’m the only one going in,” Maru said. “Dastin, go to the bazaar and procure a pond skipper. Most range you can find.”

“Aye, sir . . . you know where we’re going?” Dastin asked.

“No . . . not yet.” Maru nodded at the Marine, then opened the door slowly with his shoulder. It shut behind him with the rapid clicks and clacks of locks.

“Let’s go.” Dastin knocked a heel against the sidewalk twice. “Bazaar’s always in the center of the camp.”

***

Maru stood in darkness. Rays of feeble light shone through gaps in the boards. Shadows darted in the corners. He looked up at dozens of shining sets of eyes in the gloom.

“Not really him. Can’t be,” a reedy voice whispered. A chorus of hisses and clicks rustled around him.

“Den Mother Charro . . . I know you’re here,” Maru said.

“We have rules in my house, fish man. Many, many rules,” a resonating voice said.

Maru gripped both sides of his helmet and environmental lines unplugged from the feeds. He removed his helm and tucked it under one arm. He heard claws scramble up and down wood, accompanied by panicked squeaks.

“The prophecy! The prophecy!” was repeated over and over.

“Silence! Or I’ll put you back in your eggs.” A figure barely three feet tall shuffled out of the darkness. A canid snout with blue fur going white from age stuck out from beneath a hood. “Every time he comes to us you all go so silly about the prophecy. All existence is still here. Foolish hatchlings.” The alien spoke with an odd tempo, speaking some words almost too quickly to be understood and drawing out others.

“Charro, you’re looking well,” Maru said.

“How do you know what I’m supposed to look like? I’m old! Everything hurts. Nothing works right.” Charro shuffled closer to him.

“You said that when we first met. Almost—”

“I know how long ago that was! I feel it in my hips every day. Where is your crutch? Do things get all soft and droopy on you fish men?” Charro looked up at him. Her eyes glowed softly within the hood. “But you do look good. I envy you. And hate you too.”

“That you’ve made it here for this Pilgrimage is both a good sign and a bad sign,” Maru said.

“Symbols! Portents!” rattled from above. Long, bluish-green tails dangled from the rafters.

“You are disturbing my children,” Charro said. “I felt the two latents with you.” She sniffed hard. “One is familiar . . . connected to a soul you’ve brought to me before. The other is . . . off. You brought the daughter—didn’t you?”

Charro kicked Maru in the shin.

“Yes, one is his daughter. There was no stopping her. She is determined to cross the Veil and if I’m not with her it could be a disaster. We can guide children as best we can, but they won’t always listen. No matter how wise we are.”

“Ha. Ha-ha.” Charro turned around and Maru saw her tail had lost some of its fur. She rapped a small hand on a long box. “They never learn, do they? But you’re not here to trade stories. Show me pictures of follow-on-follow generation and brag of their intelligence, Maru. Ask so I refuse and send you away. That is polite.”

“This may be the Breaking, Charro. If it is, then we must be the ones to claim the prize, not him. Not the darkness,” he said.

“Can’t be!” Charro waved a fist at the ceiling. “I don’t want it to be. No. Go away.”

“What we want is irrelevant. What is happening will happen no matter our feelings on the matter. Ignoring it changes nothing. It will only put us all in peril. You’ve felt it, haven’t you? The Veil’s changing. It’s never been this way before.” Maru sat on the long box.

“They are so close to each other now. The clash . . . no one is ready for it. It destroyed the Ancients and they were far beyond us. Fear! Uncertainty! Doubt! Too much for me to worry about. Why not retire to a beach and eat candied roaches and have my feet rubbed by well-fed males until the end comes, eh?”

The voices above quaked in fear.

“Ah! Now you all pay attention to me.” She scratched toe claws against the floor. “Doom and gloom gets their attention when patience and wisdom won’t. Did you try that on the daughter? Of course you didn’t, too pure and noble, Maru. Learn to lie—exaggerate! Makes everything easier.”

“In the short run. Every lie has its price to pay and the longer it takes for that to come due . . . the worse it is,” Maru said.

“And how long have you lied to the daughter?” Charro clicked her teeth together. “You tried to keep her away from the Veil, she persists. She has the whole of the Governance to choose from for her future and she wants her father’s path. How many times did the Veil lay the stones for your journey to me? To this time and place?”

“I do not believe in fate. Though the number of helpful coincidences were hard to ignore,” Maru said.

“Then break the cycle! Refuse her. Why take the chance?”

“The final part of the prophecy was lost, Charro. We don’t know if it means to tell us how to break the cycle or continue it. Without certainty I cannot know what to do. I must travel into the Veil with them—her—and see it for myself. Then I can make the hard decision.”

“Why ‘them’? Why the more than one of your silly tongue? Why risk bringing two if it is what you fear?”

“Better the Sodality have both parts than only one. The other . . . I intended to bring to the summit died during our journey here.”

“Sodality! Amateurs! Look what they did to the galaxy!”

“We are not perfect. We set the scales right in the end and paid for our mistake in blood. You’re going to help, Charro. I can feel it in your aura. You can feel the determination in mine. I need him.”

“So much trouble this one! Debts debts debts. He is a shame to the Docents. If we did not have the protection of the peace, I would have auctioned him off to the one that promised him the swiftest balancing.” Charro knocked on the box.

“No, you wouldn’t have. He’s your favorite,” Maru said.

“Bah! But I could have scared him into better behavior. Fine fine fine. Standard contract.” Charro clapped her hands twice and a pressboard with a metal clasp at the top was handed to her. “Food. Equipment. All your expense. Absolutely no eating of limbs.”

“Never my intent.” Maru took the clipboard from her and glanced at the bottom of a yellowed and curled page. “This fee is a bit more than ‘standard.’”

“Inflation! Inflation and taxes, same thing. More mouths to feed. Since when do Sodality care about money?” Her snout pulled into a snarl.

“Since no one else in the galaxy accepts good intentions as payment.” Maru reached into his jacket and removed a brace of glittering coins.

Oohs and aahs came from above. Charro sniffed them, then scratched her palm.

Maru handed over the rest of the golden rod he used to pay the dockmaster.

“Ha! You got ripped off again at the gate. When will you learn?” Charro snatched the payment away and hid it inside her rags.

“A little overpayment fosters good will. Keeps the greedy attentive to another bloated payment. Makes things easier for me. I’ll take good care of him, Charro. Now, I need Neff . . . and six anchors.”

Groans of disappointment echoed up and down the layers of rafters.

“You hush hush! If you knew, you wouldn’t want to go with him.” Charro shook her head. She clicked her tongue several times and a Docent scrambled across a rafter and dropped a small sack into Maru’s hand. Then she shooed the Adept off the box and pointed to the latch. There was a rasp of moving gears and the top popped open.

Maru slipped the bag into his jacket.

“Not even going to inspect them?” Charro asked.

“Never has a Docent ever sold a bad anchor. Which is why you can command such a high price for them.”

“Never has anyone with a false anchor ever returned. The real reason you trust is because I would not doom any of my children to the Void. Polite polite, yes . . . Neff! Neff, get your lazy bones up and up!” Charro reached into the box and shook something.

A Docent with short green fur and floppy outer ears looked over the edge and sniffed the air. The canid alien bent his tail up and scratched under its snout.

“What?” Neff rubbed his eyes. “I didn’t do it. I was asleep,” he slurred.

“Job job chop chop.” Charro snapped her fingers next to Neff’s ear and both went flat against his head.

Neff’s eyes lit up with an inner light as he focused on Maru.

“Oh no!” Neff ducked back into the box. “Don’t sell me off! I’ll earn the money back, I swear!”

“You’re under contract, Neff. You work for me now. That incident on Golda is forgiven,” Maru said. “By me. We shouldn’t run into any Nalaaks.”

“You have a gambling problem!” Charro grabbed him by the ear and pulled him up and out of the box. Neff wore a long, coarse tunic cut at the thighs and at the back to accommodate bent knees and his tail.

“No dice! No cards! No spinny-wheel machines that rob you,” she chided.

“I don’t have a gambling problem. I have a losing at gambling problem,” Neff said. “Where’s he need me to take him this time? The poison marshes? The Infinite Cliffs?”

“We’ll find out once we’re through the Veil. The geography is never the same.” Maru turned to Charro. “I will take care of him like he is one of my own.”

“I wish you a dull crossing and may you find nothing but flecks!” Charro shook a fist at him. “Prophecy! Pah!” She spat on the ground.

Neff gave his rear end a vigorous scratching. He raised his snout and sniffed hard.

“Two? Just two this time? You must have lots of confidence in them or you lost your mojo, walking fish.” Neff hopped onto Maru’s shoulder and wrapped his tail around his neck. His hands and feet bent at unnatural angles and gripped each other to anchor him to the Adept’s body.

“Food, yes yes? Flecks always appreciated,” Neff said.

Maru flicked an imbued coin into the air and the Docent caught it with his teeth and swallowed the money whole.

Plaintive wails came from the rafters.

“Now look what you’ve done.” Charro put her hands on her hips.

“Apologies.” Maru passed off his sack of coins to her, then put his helmet back on.

“Wasn’t talking to you! Greedy greedy. Come home with a decent story, Neff, and no new debts! Now out out before next customer comes knocking.” She prodded Maru toward the door.

Neff let out a slow howl that made the walls vibrate.

Maru shut the door behind him and a low-frequency echo from the rest of the Docents set his teeth on edge.

“Where we going this time, bossy boss fish man?” Neff asked. “Grand adventure or just a trip to the Lake of Sorrows to pick at the shore?”

“I don’t know yet . . . but we’ll need your talents for sure. How far to an over-the-horizon Aperture?” Maru asked.

Neff began pulling away from Maru’s shoulder. The Adept put a gentle hand on the back of the Docent’s neck.

“I don’t want the horrors.” Neff began shivering.

“We’re not going for that, we just need a head start,” Maru said. “You know an Aperture that won’t attract attention?”

“’Course I do, boss boss. Just need fast transpo. You have?” Neff nestled back onto Maru’s shoulder.

“We should have it by the time we reach the rest of the party,” Maru said.

“Good. Don’t go past the Xert Quarter. They have no sense of humor,” Neff said.

“You have quite the price on your head with them.” Maru gave the Docent a quick scratch behind an ear.

“Because they want to eat me! They believe all those lies about Docents—at least you know the truth! Besides, Xert have no use for money, they’re so boring.”


Jayce sat on a pile of rucksacks against a long chain-link fence. On the other side was a parking lot partially full of air skiffs, all bobbing a few feet off the ground. All were open topped with a standing control rig at the front. Jayce scratched his chin as he looked them over.

Sarai sat on the other side of the pile. Eabani was a step away. The alien looked out over the muddy road running parallel to the park, glowering at anyone who got too close. The Lirsu’s aura of menace kept a bubble a few feet wide clear of pedestrians from their packs.

Dastin stood atop one of the wooden staircases up against the fence, its twin on the other side directly across from him. The Marine had been in animated, profanity-laced negotiations with another human from the skiff park, who was just as willing to use colorful metaphors about Dastin.

The pairs of stairs on either side of the fence ran down its entire length, where similar negotiations took place, albeit with less invective than Dastin’s discussion.

“You want me to sign over my mother’s eyes too? No percentage!” Dastin pointed a knife hand at the other man’s chest.

“You want a rental with that range and carrying capacity? Then you pay!” The merchant stabbed a finger into his palm.

Jayce leaned over to one side to speak with Sarai. “Should we be worried?”

“It’s fine.” Sarai glanced over her shoulder. “He’s not pointing at the guy’s chin yet. That’s when he’s really angry.”

“Oh . . . I couldn’t tell,” Jayce said. He sniffed the air, then looked down a side street to a long line of street vendors. “Anyone else hungry?”

“Bit peckish.” Sarai pressed her lips to a thin line. “We should get something to eat here. Doesn’t make sense to eat the supplies we’re going to need through the Veil before we cross it. And Gunny’s already talked the price for the skiff down to less than he’s got on him . . .”

“Not the worst idea.” Eabani sniffed several times. “Most of the vendors over there sell human-edible food. Squeaker. Go to the sixth stall on the left and get enough chorzo sausage and cheese tapals for all of us. Don’t spend more than two coins. Stay where I can see you.”

“Ooo and get extra of the purple onion slices,” Sarai said. “Loved those when I was a kid.”

“Move it.” Eabani raised his chin toward the vendors.

“No problem . . . What the heck is chorzo?” he muttered to himself and crossed the road. Rickshaws pulled by thick-legged aliens with tentacles for arms snorted at him as he maneuvered through traffic.

The first vendor was an elderly human woman with pots of steaming broth around her. She ladled out cooked noodles and soup into plastic bowls and slid the soup onto a shelf where a coin went into a wooden box and the bowl was carried over to the side of a building and consumed without any utensils by a dirty-looking teenager.

An alien that looked like puffs of dark brown fur stacked atop each other slurped wiggling worms the size of Jayce’s fingers, straight off a stick hanging over burning coals at the next vendor.

A large humanoid shape stepped out of a building and directly in front of Jayce. Jayce bumped into the figure and stepped back as it turned around. It was in an environmental suit, solid armor with flexible joints made from chain mail. The head was a blunt cone full of lime-green fluid.

It turned to Jayce and a human skull with augmented optics in the eye sockets leered at him.

“There a problem, meat?” The bone jaw moved but the words came from a speaker at the base of the dome. Jayce took another step back and saw the double-star Syndicate insignia on the dead thing’s shoulder.

“I am no one’s prospect,” Jayce snapped out of reflex. “No affiliation.”

“This isn’t Syndicate territory,” the skull said. “You lost, meat? Need a crew to get you through the Veil? Attuned command a high price right now.”

“I-I-I’m just here to buy sausage.” Jayce felt like the skull could see straight into his soul.

“Food . . . what a crutch.” The Syndicate member shouldered passed him, almost knocking Jayce off his feet. Jayce hurried over to the vendor that had happy holographic meat links in buns dancing up and down the side of his stall.

“I don’t like them either,” an obese man in a tight white undershirt and apron said from the other side of the grill. Jayce wasn’t sure if his skin glistened from sweat or the incessant humidity. “Can never trust the Gripped. Even if they look like they’re fresh out of the grave like the Tyrant’s ministers. Dead should be dead, I say.”

“I’ve never seen one”—Jayce held up a hand to block view of his other that pointed at the Syndicate—“like a skeleton that talked, and can I get four chorzos? Oh, and cheese . . . tarps?”

“Four chorzos. You want tripasas or tapals?” The vendor flipped a hatch over and used tongues to pull out sausage links.

“Yes.” Jayce began to panic internally.

Tripasas.” The vendor used a ladle and scooped up a gray soup of what looked like fish maws that Jayce only ate when he was on the verge of being flat broke.

Tapals.” The vendor flicked a fingernail at a glass case with breaded wedges that leaked off-white goo from the corners.

“Those.” Jayce tapped on the glass too.

The man chuckled.

“Sure hope you’re the real thing, son. Hate to see another bright-eyed kid with his whole life ahead of him get conned through the Veil only to figure out he ain’t one of the Attuned.” The man pulled down the collar of his shirt and revealed a slave brand. “You always have to pay. Least I can eat well.”

“Uh . . .” Jayce looked at the menu, which was written in a script he couldn’t read.

“Yeah, best to keep things quiet.” The man dropped Jayce’s order into a paper bag. “Two.” He whacked the side of his hand against a metal box on the cart.

Jayce dug into a jacket pocket and rubbed the two coins together so the merchant could see them and dropped them one at a time through a slot on the box and they landed with a clink.

“Good journey.” The sack of food was handed over.

Jayce muttered thanks and started back toward Sarai and Eabani. The Lirsu snarled at a beggar shaking a tin cup at him. Sarai had both hands on the pile of backpacks and seemed tense.

Jayce started walking faster.

The beggar flicked the cup toward Eabani, and a cloud of white powder burst out and hit him in the face. The Marine reared back, slapping at his mouth and eyes.

A large skiff bike, atop which sat two riders in full leather gear, veered sharply around a corner. The rider on the back snatched Sarai off the packs. Sarai cried out as electric shocks from the kidnapper’s hands jolted her entire body. She was tossed over the bike between the riders like a bedroll.

The crowds froze as the bike turned down the street and raced toward Jayce.

Jayce flung the sack of food into the driver’s face. The impact sent his control off, and the skiff careened from side to side until it passed Jayce and the rear antigrav engine clipped a food stall and blasted the stall like it had been struck by a sudden gale.

The bike rolled over, sending all three aboard tumbling into the mud.

“Sarai!” Jayce ran toward her. She lay on her side in a mud puddle, her face turned away from him.

The rider on the back got to his feet first and knocked his knuckles together. Sparks and thin lightning bolts burst from the impacts. Scale fighting gloves, but with significant after-market modifications.

Jayce brought his guard up in a boxer’s stance and bobbed from side to side slightly. His first instinct that the kidnapper was a prizefighter proved correct when the other man mimicked his stance and laughed at him.

Jayce ducked a crackling punch, but static leapt off the gloves, jumped out at his face and stung his cheek. Jayce didn’t close the distance and threw an uppercut too short to strike the kidnapper’s jaw.

Instead, the punch landed right where the outstretched arm met the shoulder. There was a wet snap as the shoulder dislocated from the socket. The kidnapper yelped and the arm fell dead against his side.

Jayce swung an arm out and clotheslined the other man across the upper chest and wrapped an arm around his neck. The assailant struck with his other hand at Jayce, but the safety settings still on the Scale gloves wouldn’t activate the power field so close to the user. Jayce got behind the kidnapper with one arm around the man’s neck, then raised a foot and stomped on the back of the kidnapper’s knee, breaking it with a wet pop.

Jayce shoved the crippled man away and turned back to Sarai.

The driver stood over her. He held a crude knife made from a sharpened hunk of metal with cord wrapped around the base for a handle.

“Don’t you come any closer!” The driver tore off her helmet and blond hair spilled out. Her skin was sallow and she had the wide, uneven, dilated eyes of a crash addict. “We’re not staying here any longer!”

She pulled Sarai up and set her knife against her neck.

Jayce reached behind his back and drew his Veil-stone hilt and thumbed the activation switch.

“Ha!” he shouted.

The hilt sputtered and gave a dying buzz.

“Huh?” Jayce gave it a quick shake.

“I’ll split—I’ll split the price for her!” the driver shouted.

A lit Fulcrum blade touched the driver’s shoulder from behind. Maru lengthened the blade so the driver could see it. A creature with big eyes glanced over Maru’s shoulder, then ducked back behind him.

“It is time to stop,” Maru said. “Drop the knife. No one else needs to get hurt.”

The driver’s breathing got faster and faster, then she looked up.

Several drones descended from the overhead gloom.

“No sudden movements!” came from the drones. The command was repeated in several languages.

“No. No no no . . . please.” The driver tossed her knife into the mud and raised her hands. “We didn’t hurt—we didn’t hurt anyone!”

Maru bent his arm and raised the blade from her shoulder.

“Violation.” The pronouncement was followed a moment later by a solid green bolt that struck the driver in the chest. She disintegrated from the inside out, leaving only a dark cloud that drifted over Maru.

The drone swung its weapon toward Jayce. He froze. He dared a glance at Maru, who shook his head ever so slightly.

A flash of green light stung Jayce’s eyes as the bolt snapped over his shoulder and erased the other kidnapper where he cowered in the mud.

“Respect the peace.” The drones lifted back into the fog. Activity returned to normal on the street within a few seconds. The owner of the wrecked stall jumped into the middle of the street and waved his fists at the sky, shouting at the drones.

Eabani stumbled over to Sarai. His face and neck were badly swollen and his eyes could barely see through fat lids. He shook her shoulder and growled nothing but vowels. Sarai pushed him away and put a muddy hand to her temple.

Maru retracted his blade to the hilt and touched her cheek. There was a dull glow from his fingers and Sarai straightened up with a gasp.

“Jayce. Our equipment,” Maru said as he and Eabani helped Sarai to her feet.

“It’s back there.” Jayce pointed behind him.

“I know that. Put your currently useless weapon away and get back to our gear,” the Adept said.

“Yes. Right.” It took him two tries to put the hilt back into the sheath on the back of his belt. He spotted the meat and cheese he’d bought strewn across the road, covered in mud. A few rats had already come out from beneath the sidewalks to carry away the food.

Dastin was at the packs, his face set like stone but red with fury.

“Uh . . . I went to get food.” Jayce slowed as he approached the Marine. “And then—”

“Shut. Up,” Dastin snapped. “I can’t believe how I screwed this up.”

“You . . . did?” Jayce frowned.

“Do we have transportation?” Maru slid an arm through the strap of Sarai’s pack and shouldered it. The creature peeked over the other shoulder at Jayce and its eyes lit up. Sarai was woozy on her feet but had a hand on Eabani to keep her balance.

“Oh, Maru has so much potential with him. Shame shame to lose either,” it said.

“What is—Never mind.” Jayce shook his head.

“Yes, sir. Pick up at lot thirty-seven,” Dastin said.

“Then we best be on our way. Seems we’ve been noticed by the wrong sorts around here,” Maru said.

The party picked up their gear and followed Dastin into the skiff lot. Jayce felt a bit safer once the fence closed behind them. They walked past skiffs floating in their parking spaces. The quality and upkeep on the skiffs improved as they went.

“Jayce, did you forget that a Fulcrum will not fully manifest in this realm until you’ve bonded with a stone beyond the Veil?” Maru asked.

“A little. I was trying to do something constructive,” Jayce said.

“The drones look for restraint during altercations. If you’d ignited your weapon, they may have viewed you as an aggressor. Remember this,” the Adept said.

“But when I threw our lunch in the driver’s face that was OK?” Jayce asked.

Eabani growled and coughed. Jayce poked a finger against the sore lump behind his ear and waggled the translation bead.

“Yes, his quick thinking was a useful, albeit crude, solution, but I am more curious how Sarai was snatched away from you,” Maru said.

“A beggar hit him with . . . shells? From some crustacean, is my guess.” Sarai brushed white powder from her jacket. Eabani sneezed again. “They must have known Lirsu are allergic to that.”

Eabani put one thumb to a nostril and exhaled sharply. Something green plopped into a puddle.

“A beggar distracted us, then hit him with the powder,” she continued. “He was working with the kidnappers.”

“Kidnappings aren’t uncommon in boomtowns like this,” Maru said. “An Attuned is worth the risk if they can bring back a ship stone to sell on the open market. The peace isn’t concerned with crime, but it is concerned with violence.”

“Here.” Dastin banged a fist against a skiff and a ladder unwound from the prow down to the walkway. The vehicle was matte black and a good seven paces long and four wide. It had rails around the deck that concerned Jayce. No sailor on Hemenway would have risked choppy seas in that thing.

Dastin tossed his bag onto the deck and climbed up the ladder.

“Get up here, you puffy bastard,” the gunnery sergeant said to Eabani, who wheezed through swollen nasal passages as he climbed the ladder. “Check the power supply and get ready to cut the grav anchor.”

Sarai touched her forehead and wobbled on her feet. Jayce gripped her arm, but she dismissed it with a shrug.

“There was this dead guy,” Jayce said. “Had Syndicate colors on him. He talked to me, but I didn’t tell him anything.”

“Not dead dead,” Maru’s passenger said. “Dead have died. Brain still talk talk.”

“Ah!” Jayce composed himself. He had been startled for a moment.

“Sarai, Jayce, meet our Docent. He is called Neff and he’s going to lead us to an Aperture,” Maru said.

Eabani growled and beat a fist against the skiff’s railing.

Jayce hefted up his and Sarai’s bags.

“It would be the Syndicate that tries and ruin everything.” Sarai opened and closed her hands several times, but they kept shaking. “What did they hit me with?”

“Hacked Scales,” Jayce said. “You foul the capacitors with a spike made from a gold-and-copper alloy and it’ll futz with the power levels. Do that in a sanctioned match and you’ll end up scav fish food. Thing is, the safety sensors stay on.” He extended one arm. “Strike and you’ll hit with all the power you want from the hack.” He pulled it back into a guard. “But you pull in too close and it goes neutral. Stops you from frying yourself.”

“I never thought getting punched in the face for money would ever be useful,” Sarai said.

“Jitters go away in about an hour,” Jayce said. “My friend Kay once hit me with a hack ‘just to see what would happen.’”

“Some friend.” Sarai started up the ladder.

“It was OK. I hit him back with the other one and he hit the ceiling. For real. Dent’s still there,” Jayce said. He put a foot on the ladder, but Maru stopped him from climbing.

“Jayce . . . you need to know that the danger we’ve faced thus far is nothing compared to what’s beyond the Veil,” the Adept said. “You don’t have to go with us. I can place you in a school or find you work on a variety of vessels.”

“What? I’ve come this far and you want me to turn back now? Did I . . . did I do something wrong? Did I pick the wrong hilt?” Jayce reached behind him and lifted the scabbard. Sarai leaned over the railing to watch them.

“The path of the Adept is difficult. Shipmasters can be even more difficult to learn and many don’t even leave their stones after they’re interred in a vessel,” Maru said. “There is no happiness on the other side of the Veil. Not when you go through. Not when you come back.”

“Then why did you go?” Jayce asked him.

Maru’s head tilted back slightly, as if stung by the question.

“Purpose,” the Adept answered.

“Aren’t you Adepts out there killing tyrants and winning wars for the Governance?” Jayce asked.

“Some of us are.”

“This one so young . . . so stupid stupid. But he shines bright.” Neff crawled up on Maru’s shoulder and sniffed the air. “Don’t like. Won’t make it. Send him home.”

“I don’t remember anyone asking you. Neff. Docent. Thing. Sir, what is he . . . exactly?” Jayce put his hands on his hips.

Dastin stomped on the deck and the skiff wobbled ever so slightly.

“Don’t decide now,” Maru said. “I wouldn’t leave you here, not when we’re so close to the Apertures opening. Too dangerous. Let’s go.”

“Hungry,” Eabani grumbled as Jayce climbed aboard.

“You shut up!” Dastin kicked at the Lirsu. “Your damn stomach’s already caused enough trouble. Raise the grav anchor. Neff! Where we going?”

“East to fifth road marker, then turn south.” Neff glanced around. “Tell you more later later.”

The skiff rose several yards and Jayce felt the familiar unease of a deck beneath his feet. Dastin turned it around and the skiff jolted forward.


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Framed