Tink tink tink tink.

Sanna’s hooves made tiny, crisp sounds as they crossed the tiled floor while the rest of them crept on their toes, their soles squeaking with every step. Jhor and Patch shined lights around the large maintenance room; Lapis expected stored equipment, but it was an office with doors leading to different storage closets marked with hand-sized numbers. Wheeled carts and odd machines stood to the right, hoses, nozzles and metal tubes sticking out of cylindrical containers. The smell of pungent cleaning liquid permeated the air, as if a giant jug of the stuff fell over and spilled.

Desks sat at angles, random objects and tools scattered about on a couple, the rest with empty surfaces but for writing implement holders.

Cabinets began after the desks ended, neatly written pieces of paper in the slots to denote what paperwork they contained. The number surprised Lapis; how much maintenance did the place need? Or did they archive investment information down there?

Patch opened a door marked twelve between two of them, revealing cement stairs leading down. They turned a sharp left at the landing, and Lapis’s tummy twittered; more darkness, in an even more confining space. Jhor prodded her on, and she followed her partner, unease ramming into her hard.

The situation was dire enough. She did not need her fear to rear its ugly head and pummel her. She had done just fine outside; why start trembling now?

A stone brick tunnel sat at the end of the stairs. A wide trail ran down the center, with bits and pieces of rock brushed to the sides. Sconces with torches sat at regular intervals, the tops burned. Cold filtered through the air, though it did not have as frosty a bite as outside.

“Why are torches here?” Sanna asked, studying the nearest with a faint beam from her forehead.

“It’s an escape tunnel,” Patch said. “Sometimes wealthy investors get agitated at the magistrates when a deal goes sour. This tunnel lets them flee the guards sent to haul them back to a mansion.”

“It happens that often?” Jhor asked, amusement coloring his tone as his light danced across the walls.

“Often enough the tunnel’s well known in underground circles. Good thing the mercs chasing us don’t know about it.”

A tremor raced through Lapis’s arms, and she clutched ENZ closer so she did not drop them. She hated dark, confining places, and she hated showing her weakness in front of friends. “So where are we going?” Hopefully a conversation would distract her from the environment.

“The Emerald. It’s close enough that the khentauree could make it even if they’re being chased, and it has a special door to the safe space meant to keep tech-wielding enemies out.”

“I never realized the Minq had so much tech.”

“They aren’t free with the info, but if you work often enough with them, you figure it out. Even then, I think Jo Ban and Shara have more to do with it. After he learned of Ambercaast, he had her install upgrades. She was already bringing in weapons, so a few other tech devices wasn’t noticed.”

“Will it be guarded?” Jhor asked.

“Maybe. It won’t matter. After I took that stake out on the soldier that hurt Lanth, Tamor gave me the override code for the safehouses, just in case.”

Lapis squinted at him, annoyed. He could have mentioned that. Or maybe he had, and she forgot?

CLANG.

It echoed from everywhere. Lapis froze as Patch put a hand to his patch and pressed the center. Sanna hummed, her hands on Jhor’s shoulders as her head swiveled, and ENZ clicked.

“My scans return empty,” they said.

“Mine neither,” Patch said. “ENZ, can you do a continuous scan?”

“Yes.”

“If you could, please run one. This isn’t the safest of tunnels, so that was probably an old pipe falling or something, but it’s better to be cautious than captured.” Her partner picked up his pace, and they hustled to keep step.

Lapis adjusted her hold on the khentauree, her heart refusing to slow down, her neck prickling. The darkness crept closer, the lights doing little to keep it at bay. Cold froze her nose, the musty smell of the passage drifting away until all she could only sense the stinky honey pepper that wafted from ENZ.

The dark moved!

Or it did not. The lights illuminated nothing but stone in front of them, but her fear grew.

Military khentauree could make themselves nearly invisible, to sight and scans. What if the unknown one made it down there? What if they were the ones who made the noise? What if they trailed them, and planned a rear attack? She glanced over her shoulder but could not see anything beyond the glare of Sanna’s forehead.

Neither she nor Jhor appeared concerned. What was wrong with them?

Lapis jumped at the soft shower of random debris somewhere ahead of them. A typical thing, in Jiy tunnels. That did not mean someone else was in the passage with them.

“Everything good, ENZ?” she whispered.

“Yes,” they said, as quiet as she.

They reached the dinged basement door to the Emerald without incident and Lapis fought her relief; danger still stalked them. They could not relax until they reached the House. Patch popped the lock, ushered them inside, and relocked it.

Heat slapped her in the face, and she savored the touch as she moved down the dimly lit short hallway. That the basement held such warmth hinted at a generator and heating elements; she did not hear a fireplace or oven chugging away on fiery wood.

That made sense; many establishments that catered to the wealthy court nobles pretended to heat the traditional way but had tech warming the air. No one complained about the illicit use, because what aristocrat wanted to freeze as they slurped soup and cut into an already chilled steak?

Her upper lip twitched, and a shiver raced across her shoulders, triggering pain in her shoulder, as she recalled her first, and only, visit. The unease she felt as she reluctantly took a dishwasher into custody remained with her. The hostess and the staff shrugged, unconcerned—and if they were Minq-adjacent, that made sense—but the custom . . . she still shuddered at the unwholesome interest they showed as she spoke with the manager. Only the knowledge that her gauntlets would cut the wealthy down as readily as they sliced the guttershanks kept her from fleeing, and she was exceedingly relieved to be away from the place.

So was the dishwasher. He needed to return a gold chain, and he got out of cleaning dishes for a day to do it. Considering his humor and bouncy step, he had no worries about losing the pay. He had probably worked as an undershank on the Minq payroll, so his Emerald position was a cover job rather than one to feed himself.

The short hallway led to a storage room; two lit fruit oil lanterns hung to the sides of the door, illuminating casks, shelves of supplies, and a door to the cold room. The amount of food shocked her; how much did they keep in reserve? They had not had a delivery since the ‘shroud plowed into the palace, had they?

Patch relaxed. “Seems the Minq are in.” He waved at a corner; a moving tech device with an elongated nose that ended in a circular glass flashed a warning red, then faded to green.

Were the Minq there to secret fighters away from the enemy? Why else had their members remained in the district when all other shop owners kept away?

A shadow fell down the stairs, and boots rang on the treads. Lapis caught her breath, then relaxed; Layne, a Minq enforcer, peered into the room, weapon ready, and dropped it upon beholding Patch—though, considering how incautious she was, she expected them.

She wore a waist-length leather jacket rather than a coat, so the upper floor must be warmer still. Her boots did not have mud or water stains, so whoever was with her at the restaurant, they did not patrol.

“This is Layne,” Patch said, motioning to her. “Layne, you know Lanth, but have you met Jhor and Sanna? Lanth’s holding ENZ, the one we rescued from the mansion.”

Layne tucked her blonde hair behind her ear and nodded her head in greeting. “Well met. I thought they fooled me, saying you were out. This isn’t the place to be, with all the mercs around.” She waved the tip of her tech weapon up the stairs. “Come on. We’re waiting for a group to come in, and since no one’s here to eat the good stuff, we’re making certain it doesn’t go to waste. You might as well have a bite, too.”

From all accounts, the Emerald had a sumptuous menu, and while the thought of delightfully rich food appealed to her, Lapis could not shake the dread growing in her tummy. Wishing the fear of the dark had remained in the tunnel, she dutifully tromped after a grinning Patch, hoping ENZ did not notice she tightened her grip on their head.

Wooden lattices sectioned the larger building into intimate dining rooms with five tables in each. Flipped chairs rested on the tops, left there by whoever cleaned the floor last. A short walkway lined by thick-framed landscapes and a brown floral carpet led to the front door, where two guards with plates sat on stools and shoved steaming food into their mouths.

Warm food? That appealed more than fancy cheese and a few slices of bread.

“Have you been here long enough to see anything out of the ordinary?” Patch asked, eyeing the plates as he rubbed a hand against his thigh.

Layne cocked an eyebrow before leading them away from the entry. “How about everything?” She laughed, the sound between amusement and bewilderment. “I admit, I thought this place would remain empty until someone like Midir said it was OK to return. The knight superiors, it seems, were all at the palace when the ‘shroud crashed, and no one’s heard from them or their families since. They aren’t up to giving those orders.”

“They deserved to be cindered,” Patch growled.

“So there isn’t anyone to tell the well-off when it’s safe to come back. I don’t think many customers will step foot in Crowned Loren until there’s an official announcement, which means the shops will stay closed until who-knows-when.”

“If there’s anything to return to,” Lapis muttered.

“Yeah, the shanks aren’t hiding their looting, and the lot who’s up here are nosy and brave, too. They even made snarky comments to us, and they knew we were Minq.” She slid her weapon into a holster hanging from her hip—an obvious sign she ignored the illegality of openly wearing tech. That, more than anything, proved the Dentherion Empire no longer had its fingers in Jilvayna. “I hope the group that’s out doesn’t have issues. Brave guttershanks in this environment concern me.”

“How about non-shanks?” Patch asked.

“Like the mercs? We’ve seen several groups pass by, and I have no idea why they’re all here. There’s nothing much in this district but elite stores and restaurants. The Emerald’s the only underground front here, too.”

“City guards cleaned out Kelvington’s just after the ‘shroud crashed. All the crates had tech, so I think more underhanded stuff happened here than we might have thought.”

“Kelvington’s?” Layne frowned. “That is odd, considering how stuffily superior he acted about supporting Gall. Not sure if we can check it out anytime soon; we have strict orders right now about keeping the safehouse open. If anyone needs a safe harbor or medical help quick, we’re here.”

They entered a back room lit by multiple thin candles stuffed into crystalline, cup-shaped containers set on the tables. The paintings of Jiy and the furniture were much darker than the ones throughout the rest of the restaurant, which pointed to the section catering to a different custom with a different purpose.

Meats, sauces, fruits and vegetables, and enough noodles to choke a goat sat on silver trays lining a long table, buffet-style, all placed on oil warmers. The amount would feed her reading circle for days, with enough for friends. The Minq sitting at the tables looked ready to burst, and they stuffed even more into their gullets. If the taste resembled the smell, she would gorge, too, and not feel bad about it. They needed to get it eaten before it went bad, after all.

Layne motioned to the food. “Have all you like. It’s set up to feed the groups coming in who’ve been out all day.”

The smells broke through her pounding unease, and Lapis glanced down at ENZ. “I’m going to put you down. What way do you want to face?” she asked.

“I will face the walkway,” they said. She settled them at an empty table, situated them until they liked the angle, very aware of every Minq eye on her and the khentauree. She turned, fighting a new round of unease, and almost squeaked as Patch handed her a full plate with a painkiller packet on the side and a tall glass of juice. A very full plate, and her tummy demanded she dig in with ferocity. She had not consumed much other than liquids and medicine since her injury, and her body wanted fuel after the activity of the night.

Layne’s gaze lingered over the mechanical beings as she sat down at a half-eaten meal. “Do you think this unknown khentauree will come here?” she asked as she picked up her fork. “Jo Ban said to prepare for one, but I’m not certain they’ll chance it.”

“I do not know,” Sanna said, setting herself next to ENZ. “Military khentauree are strange. They run forward when danger stampedes towards them, but hide and vacillate when questioned. If they come here, there will be many questions for them to answer, and no easy way to avoid them.”

“Sanna sent the Lyddisian and Jilvaynan to them,” Jhor said as he piled food onto a plate. Funny, despite being chased, none of them remained cautious enough to forgo the meal. “If they don’t show up tonight but pop in later, they should understand whatever you say.”

“Where did they come from?” another Minq asked. “Torc Bedan?”

“We do not know,” Sanna said. “But I think they are not. Jhor and Lanth picked up their trail near the mansion that smuggles khentauree, so they might have been kidnapped and escaped before they were disassembled.”

“I find it unfathomable that so many nobles seem to have smuggled tech, let alone khentauree, considering how much Gall hated it in hands other than his own,” Layne said. “And what did they do with it all? The undermarket didn’t start selling items until a few months ago, and if the current accounts are accurate, the stalls should have been flooded with them.”

“Gall had a lot of secrets,” Patch said as he caught a chair with his foot, pulled it out, and sank into the padding. “That explosion when the palace fell wasn’t because a few kitchen fires got out of hand.”

Everyone winced.

Talk dwindled in favor of eating and staring at the khentauree. Sanna and ENZ did not appear to notice, both lost in whatever discussion they had; Lapis raised an eyebrow at Jhor, who shrugged and dug into the meat-topped noodles.

She dumped the packet in the glass and chugged the juice; she had not realized the ache in her shoulder, but now that she sat in heat and relative safety, it told her how unhappy it was. Hoping the pain quickly receded, she focused on the food; while not prepared by a cook, the edibles were delectable. Meats with the fat crisped just right, rich sauces adding to the flavor rather than covering it, tasty bread with only a hint of stale, with lots of fruit juice to wash it all down. She wondered about that, but decided the Minq settled for something that tasted vaguely similar to wine. Having alcohol during so dangerous a time would hurt reaction times if they had to withstand an attack, but juice? Tasty and quenching without the dullness of water.

She finished her plate and rubbed the back of her neck; her small hairs kept prickling, and that annoyed her. What bothered her? Darkness no longer surrounded her, and the orange mercs would have to get through the Minq to reach her.

The candle flames danced, casting the room in a soft haze at odds with the growing tension in her shoulders. She glanced at her partner; his patch lights circled the edge, slow, methodical. Something spooked him, too. Jhor’s eyes flicked around before he fiddled with knobs on his device, but that could be from a touch of boredom.

Did the khentauree sense anything? She could not tell, so studied the Minq; some fidgeted, some had frowns, and while they had eaten in mostly silence, the clank of utensils on the plates, the thump of glasses being set down, the subtle shift of bottoms on chairs, had disappeared.

She stared at her empty plate. They all sensed them. The unknown khentauree was already in the room.

But where?

She gave Patch a small smile. “Painkiller? I’ll get some more juice.”

He frowned, and when she raised an eyebrow, nodded and dug into his inner coat pocket, the whirl of lights around his patch increasing in strength and velocity. She snagged her cup, rose, then stretched and rolled her head on her neck, giving her an opportunity to look around without attracting undue suspicion.

No curtains or open doors presented convenient places to hide behind, so they likely pressed against a wall. Despite believing the khentauree in the room, she turned to scoot her chair in, giving her a look at the hallway; empty, as far as she could tell.

The bowl with the juice sat at the end of the buffet table opposite the door, so she needed to walk the length of the room to get to it. Despite her scrutiny, nothing seemed out of place, and she took the dipper and filled the glass, more certain that the khentauree was in the room, terrified they might attack before she spotted them.

Like the military khentauree at Torc Bedan, the unknown must be able to fade from sight but for a wobble to the air surrounding them. Could she use that to advantage? How, in a dark room with only candlelight as illumination? If the being remained still, there would be no motion to detect.

She turned, mind racing, as cold filtered to here. She heard stomping and greetings from the entrance; the group Layne worried about must have returned. The candles flickered, as if caught by the fingers of wind that entered with the Minq.

There. She saw it! A subtle reflection at the end of the buffet table—a space near the door, large enough for a khentauree to stand out of the way. They were there. She had not imagined it.

She took a sip and stared towards the door like everyone else, her mind whirling. The reflection she caught hinted at a being taller than Sanna. If they were the same height as the ones from Torc Bedan, she could guess at the stance needed to keep them away from casual contact. She bet they pressed against the wall, torso swiveled parallel to it to make it less likely a human accidentally brushed against them. Now that more humans had arrived, she bet they would exit before the inevitable detection happened.

More movement.

She rushed and snagged the air, grabbing what she assumed was the lower arm.

Everyone in the room froze but Patch; he jumped up, his patch gleaming. Cyan flared above her.

She looked just below the strengthening glow. “I’m Lanth.”

A moment more. The new arrivals reached the entrance; Layne shushed them with a hiss and a wave of her hand.

Sanna buzzed and said something in Taangin.

Slowly the cyan whirl faded, and the khentauree bled into view. Their charcoal-hued chassis meant they were military, with green stripes—a medic. She had expected a front-line soldier; should she be relieved or more cautious?

While their body pointed to the door, their head had swiveled to focus on her. “You saw me.”

The buzz underlying the dead words sent shivers down her spine. “I sensed you. You might be able to hide your outer shell, but I noted your presence all the same.”

“How do you sense khentauree?”

“I get a strange, prickly feeling when you’re near.”

“Prickles?” Sanna asked, confused.

“Not all humans feel it,” Jhor said. “But if you’ve been a fighter, or a chaser, or someone in a similar line of work, you develop this sense that something in a place is different than what you expect.”

“Prickles reaction. Noted,” the medic said.

Lapis released them, not wanting to make them more suspicious by continuing to hold their arm. What else had they noted while observing them? “What’s your name?”

“LX70.”

“Is that your name, or your model?” Sanna asked. Lapis thought it an odd question, considering how many of the mechanical beings went by their number.

“My model is my name.”

“I chose my name. It is Sanna.”

The khentauree swiveled their head to her. “That is against Khentauree Regulation 276 Subse—”

“Taangis is gone,” Sanna said, her words sharp. “There are no more regulations.” She raised her chin. “LX designated older medic khentauree from Meergevenis. You are not older medic khentauree. You are LV200 or later. Earlier models could not refract light as you do.”

LX70 stilled, quiet and unmoving as a grave.

“You were a medic for Taangis?” Lapis asked, hoping to break through the frosty tenseness. They may have lied, but she saw no point in pushing it.

“Yes. I extricated the wounded from battlefields, assessed their condition, fixed them, and monitored them until they returned to battle.”

“Layne!”

The yell from the front caught everyone’s attention.

“There’s a merc group coming, and they have dogs!”

Everyone gained their feet.

“Patch?” Layne asked, drawing her weapon.

“I have the code.”

“We’ll keep them distracted.”

“Code?” LX70 asked.

“To the escape room. Since you showed up, I’m assuming you want to get away from the mercs,” Patch said, hastening to the door. “If so, follow us.”