ZNB Presents: Year One E-Book

Marie Brennan

• Herausgeber: Zombies Need Brains, LLC
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 660

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

Welcome to the first year's worth of stories from the new online magazine ZNB Presents published by the small press Zombies Need Brains. In these pages, you will find original science fiction and fantasy stories of awe and wonder, darkness and light, ranging through all of the subgenres, including urban fantasy, alternate history, space opera, fairy tales, and more. They come from the most talented authors in the field today—new voices as well as trusted and familiar names. Join us as we explore visions of the past, present, and future, as we encounter strange new creatures, both in our own backyard, in the depths of space, and our own imagination. Here you will: —Enter an abandoned colony on a hostile world —Come face-to-face with a horrific Stampede on an alien planet —Search for a murderous golem made of salt —Fight in the brutal pits of an apocalyptic America —Fight in the brutal pits of an apocalyptic America —Fight in the brutal pits of an apocalyptic America —Find betrayal and redemption in a world full of clowns —Hunt for those who are killing your fellow gunslingers —Rebel with the Little Match Girl in a search for something beyond her story And so much more! Twenty-four stories written by Brian Hugenbruch, Jason Palmatier, Diana A. Hart, Evan Marcroft, Cislyn Smith, Hazel King, Barbara Ashford, Ryan T. McFadden, Maria Z. Medina, Adria Bailton, Marie Brennan, Crystal Sarakas, Marc Fleury, Anaea Lay, Desmond Astaire, A. Katherine Black, P.A. Cornell, Alma Alexander, Antony Paschos, Jack Gallegos, Brian Crenshaw, Chloie Piveral, Evergreen Lee, and L.D. Colter, each with its own illustration by artists Kat D'Andrea, Ariel Guzman, or Gulzara Tokhtamysheva. Welcome to the multi-faceted worlds of ZNB Presents. Find us on Patreon at: http://www.patreon.com/zombiesneedbrains

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Title Page

Other Anthologies Edited by:

ZNB PRESENTS

Copyright © 2023 Joshua Palmatier and

COPYRIGHTS

WHEN THE SALT BURNS GREEN

COLONY ZNB

DAUGHTERS OF WOOD

EMPTY HOUSES AMONG THE STARS

BALANCING THE SCALES

THE FACELESS AND THE GONE

THE MATCH GAME

CARNIVAL AT THE END OF THE UNIVERSE

IN THIS CORNER OF THE UNIVERSE

A DRESS OF FLOWERS

CRAFTING CHIMERA

IT’S THE END OF THE WORLD (AS WE KNOW IT)

AARON'S LOCK

THE HOSPITALITY OF BELLA TIERRA

CHERENKOV TIME

EUGIE AND THE LAST ANGEL

THE SMELL OF SAWDUST

MOMENTS IN TIME

THREE STARS TO GUIDE A 32-BIT GHOST

SEEN AND UNSEEN

THE CROW AND THE SIX GUN

WE GO!

FIRST IMPRESSIONS

DREAMS BENEATH A SHATTERED SKY

About the Authors

About the Editor

About the Artists

ZNB PRESENTS

Year One

Other Anthologies Edited by:

Patricia Bray & Joshua Palmatier

After Hours: Tales from the Ur-bar

The Modern Fae’s Guide to Surviving Humanity

Temporally Out of Order * Alien Artifacts * Were-

All Hail Our Robot Conquerors!

Second Round: A Return to the Ur-bar

The Modern Deity’s Guide to Surviving Humanity

Solar Flare

S.C. Butler & Joshua Palmatier

Submerged * Guilds & Glaives * Apocalyptic

When Worlds Collide * Brave New Worlds * Dragonesque

Laura Anne Gilman & Kat Richardson

The Death of All Things

Troy Carrol Bucher & Joshua Palmatier

The Razor’s Edge

Patricia Bray & S.C. Butler

Portals

David B. Coe & Joshua Palmatier

Temporally Deactivated * Galactic Stew

Derelict

Steven H Silver & Joshua Palmatier

Alternate Peace

Crystal Sarakas & Joshua Palmatier

My Battery Is Low and It Is Getting Dark

David B. Coe & John Zakour

Noir

Crystal Sarakas & Rhondi Salsitz

Shattering the Glass Slipper

David B. Coe & Edmund R. Schubert

Artifice & Craft

Steven Kotowych & Tony Pi

Game On!

ZNB PRESENTS

Year One

Edited by

Joshua Palmatier

Zombies Need Brains LLC

www.zombiesneedbrains.com

Copyright © 2023 Joshua Palmatier and

Zombies Need Brains LLC

All Rights Reserved

Interior Design (ebook): ZNB Design

Interior Design (print): ZNB Design

Cover Design by ZNB Design

Cover Art “ZNB Presents: Year One”

by Justin Adams

ZNB Book Collectors #26

All characters and events in this book are fictitious.

All resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions of this book, and do not participate or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted material.

First Printing, July 2023

Print ISBN-13: 978-1940709505

Ebook ISBN-13: 978-1940709512

Printed in the U.S.A.

COPYRIGHTS

Stories:

“When the Salt Burns Green” copyright © 2022 by Brian Hugenbruch

“Colony ZNB” copyright © 2022 by Jason Palmatier

“Daughters of Wood” copyright © 2022 by Diana A. Hart

“Empty Houses Among the Stars” copyright © 2022 by Evan Marcroft

“Balancing the Scales” copyright © 2022 by Cislyn Smith

“The Faceless and the Gone” copyright © 2022 by Hazel King

“The Match Game” copyright © 2022 by Barbara Ashford

“Carnival at the End of the Universe” copyright © 2022 by Ryan T. McFadden

“In This Corner of the Universe” copyright © 2022 by Maria Z. Medina

“A Dress of Flowers” copyright © 2022 by Adria Bailton

“Crafting Chimera” copyright © 2022 by Bryn Neuenschwander

“It’s the End of the World (As We Know It)” copyright © 2022 by Crystal Sarakas

“Aaron’s Lock” copyright © 2023 by Marc Fleury

“The Hospitality of Bella Tierra” copyright © 2023 by Jessica Eanes

“Cherenkov Time” copyright © 2023 by Desmond Astaire

“Eugie and the Last Angel” copyright © 2023 by A. Katherine Black

“The Smell of Sawdust” copyright © 2023 by P.A. Cornell

“Moments in Time” copyright © 2023 by Alma Alexander

“Three Stars to Guide a 32-Bit Ghost” copyright © 2023 by Antony Paschos

“Seen and Unseen” copyright © 2023 by John Gallegos

“The Crow and the Six Gun” copyright © 2023 by Brian Crenshaw

“We Go!” copyright © 2023 by Chloie Piveral

“First Impression” copyright © 2023 by Evergreen Lee

“Dreams Beneath a Shattered Sky” copyright © 2023 by L.D. Colter

Illustrations:

Illustrations copyright © 2022 by Ariel Guzman. Illustrations copyright © 2023 by Ariel Guzman.

Illustrations copyright © 2022 by Gulzara Tokhtamysheva. Illustrations copyright © 2023 by Gulzara Tokhtamysheva.

Illustrations copyright © 2022 by Kat D’Andrea. Illustration copyright © 2023 by Kat D’Andrea.

WHEN THE SALT BURNS GREEN

by Brian Hugenbruch

Illustration by Ariel Guzman

The air in the jail cell tasted like an old, used washcloth. It hit me hard when I woke up; between that and the hangover stabbing me in the left eye, it's a damn miracle I didn't pass out again. But someone was moving on the other side of the bars.

I pulled myself into a seated position, flexing wings and stretching arms to shake the salt and sleep from them. A quick self-check followed. I seemed unharmed—headache notwithstanding. But they'd taken all my gear. Shame. There was a hangover tonic in my pack.

I wasn’t alone in the cell. City Guard had thrown more than their fair share of women in here with me. I should be grateful they didn’t take exception to sharing space with one of the fae, but in truth, most were in worse shape than I was…battered, bruised, malnourished. One or two paced with that desperate fear of someone who hadn’t done anything wrong.

I groaned. "How long was I out?"

"Threw you in here a day ago," an older woman said. She had the sort of weathered, worn face that had seen too much for her own good. Her brown silk robes, tattered and frayed by time and ill-treatment, were still far nicer than what I was wearing. She carried herself with a certain aloof calm that seemed a step above anyone else in the bin. "We figured you were dead ’til we poked you." She gestured with blistered hands as though to emphasize her point.

"Did I do anythin’ wrong?"

"Been in here for a while; don’t rightly know."

I looked back at the threadbare hem of her robe. "Did you do anythin’ wrong?"

She folded her arms and gave me a long look. "Disagreement with my brother."

"Bastard probably deserved it," I offered.

The woman smiled faintly before turning away.

A gauntleted fist banged three times against the bars. "Captain incoming! Pay attention!"

The door swung open and admitted an impossibly tall woman. I knew the humans grew them big, especially along the coast, but she looked like a marble statue come to life. Half-ogre, maybe? The ogres were beautiful creatures, but they weren't known to socialize. All the same, here was a tall, dark-haired pile of armor who looked like she’d snap me in half and pick broccolini out of her teeth with my femur.

Mind, she wouldn’t be wrong to do so. Hells, I’d probably deserve it. Except the broccolini part.

She must have caught me staring, because she snapped her fingers in my face. "You ready to have a chat?"

"Hey, as long as I'm here." My tongue was dead weight and my voice sounded like a cart had run over it. "If you bring me my pack, I'll feel better way faster."

"Your pack holds a lot of contraband," the Captain told me. "Do you know where you are?"

I tasted the air again. "Must be Agamostras. I feel like I'm wearing an entire salt flat."

The Captain looked surprised. "You can tell that from the taste in the air?"

"That, and I've been in this jail cell before." She followed my nod to where a younger me had carved “Maura Daanon” into the stones with a bit of spiteful tessence. "But you knew that, too."

She chuckled deep in her throat. "Given your condition, we were worried you might not remember. In any case: you confirm you're Maura Daanon of Ath-Olomahn, formerly of Anu-Rioghain in the Fae Realm? Scientist, rogue librarian, and suspected con artist?"

I squinted at the woman. She smelled distractingly of lilac; just enough perfume to overcome the iron on her person. "I confirm nothing. Especially slander. My potions work fine. And what the hells is a rogue librarian, anyway?"

"Someone who…" She glanced at the scroll in her hand; her lips twisted a bit. "…apparently gives away contraband knowledge."

I shrugged. "Knowledge wants to be free. Birds and animals spread seeds by virtue of eating; you would not call them contraband farmers."

"We'd still call them vermin and, unless you're shitting books, it's not an apt metaphor. In any case, no need to be defensive." She hunkered down in front of me, her chainmail rustling like a blacksmith's idea of silk, and spoke in a low whisper only I could hear. "There's dark magic in Agamostras tonight. While we'd normally leave you here to dry out for a few days, you're uniquely qualified to help us."

"What makes you think I know aught of magic?" I sniffed. "Respectable, I am."

"You’re fae—you breathe magic."

"I left Rioghain for a reason," I snapped.

"That may be, but you've been here before." She nodded at the mark I'd left. "Rumors spread. I suspect you’re not as free of it as you tell yourself. Walk with me in silence for a bit, Miss Daanon. Hear me out. We can make it worth your while."

I tilted my head and considered this. I wasn't known for silence. But if they needed help, it was apt to be something strange. I felt a small geyser of curiosity building, as it always did. Part of me—the sensible part—recoiled in horror; that feeling preceded all of my favorite mistakes.

The sensible part of me was used to losing this discussion.

"No promises," I told her. "And lies cost extra. But if you give me my pack and a wash basin, I'll do my best."

* * *

I've been in this sort of situation before. I’m not proud of it. Someone finds me in a bind and offers me a job—it’s always the sort of mystery no one else wants to handle, yeah? At this point, half the major cities in the Southern Reaches know I’m at my most altruistic when I’ve got a headache. Might explain why the drinks have been getting cheaper.

I had a vague memory of entering Agamostras through a massive gate in the southern wall. The humans had wrapped the small city in stone, from the white wall itself, to battered cobblestones, to the slate roofing hanging a few stories above narrow streets. At the time, the city had been busy: humans filled it near to bursting, pushing one another along avenues like blood straining to escape an artery.

My entrance, even with wings folded down, was met with furtive stares.

Instead of marching me toward the massive keep near the center of this gods-rotting pile of rock, though, the Captain snuck me out the back of the jailhouse and into side alleys. Light would have struggled to find these corners at noon; at dusk, it had no hope at all. Which was fine by me; my wings glowed a bit as the moons rose. Daytime stares were bad enough.

Can't lie, though…being in a dim alley with a heavily-armed woman made my feet a mite twitchy.

"What do you know about salt?" she finally asked.

Another memory came to mind: southwest of the city, near the shallows where the gold algae bloomed, several mountains rose up out of a series of clear-cut copses. They'd been white as snow, based upon what pictures of snow I'd seen back home; it had taken me time to realize that the humans had piled their cured salt in the open air.

That seemed stupid to me—until I saw the guard-posts and torches in a perimeter around it. Any peasant looking to nick a pinch for their dinners that night would find themselves at the wrong end of the law. Something told me that half my bunk mates back at the cell had been thrown there for that very reason—their hair had been brittle, their hands blistered, and I could all but taste the salt under their fingernails.

I shook the memory away as though it were a bit of fae glamour. The memory only resisted for a moment.

"Major source of flavor," I said. "It’s an earth-based compound, pulled from rocks or from flats like you’ve got here. Useful for brining, cooking, and preservation of meats; necessary when crossing deserts, since it helps a traveler hold their water. Required component when summoning spirits or demons. Burns orange when set alight."

The Captain raised delicate eyebrows. "A measured answer."

"I am a woman of science," I answered. "I study the world in all its aspects, Captain…?"

"Lord-Captain Daniela Helena Amarantha du Bois."

I looked sideways at the statuesque soldier. "I ain’t gonna remember that. I’ll just call you Dani."

"You’ll call me ‘Captain’," Dani said firmly. "And I heard you’d given up the study of magic, which sounds odd for someone in your profession."

"Which one—con artist?"

"Scientist." The word sounded unnatural in her mouth. "Someone who analyzes the whole world and does nothing to make it any better. Save when she’s drunk an entire bottle of wine."

"That," I said primly, "is between me an’ the wine, innit?"

Dani shrugged. "We suspect magic at play. But, because we ran all the wizards and witches out decades ago, his Lordship has no way to handle such things."

"No magicians? Truly?" I felt my eyebrows rising tentatively, despite the risk of igniting my headache, like two thin caterpillars capering over a hot rock. "Every town from here to Willowsring’s got at least a groundseer."

She shook her head. "His Lordship, like his grandfathers, made it plain such wasn’t welcome. And the guildfolk back at the Capital would take weeks to arrive. We need this handled quickly and discreetly."

"You mean cheaply," I said. "'Cos of course you're gonna tell me the case is worth my freedom."

"It's like you've done this before," she marveled.

"Ha ha." I shielded my eyes as we came closer to torchlight. Even dim light wasn’t much of a friend yet. "If there ain't much helpin' it, you might as well take me to the body."

"Bodies," Dani corrected. "And how did you know there was a body?"

Rolling my eyes hurt, but I did it anyway—some things have to be done. "Because there's always a body."

* * *

The cobbled streets felt like hell against my feet, but that didn't do much to distract from the chill. Cold air out of the north started finessing its way into the cracks of civilization not long after we'd left the jailhouse. The soldier, if she was bothered, didn't let it cross her face. Of course, given how much metal she was wearing, the breeze might have been welcome.

"How long you been doing this?" I asked.

She started a bit at the break in the silence. "Been captain for ten years now," she said quietly. "I served his Lordship’s father previously."

"You like it? Captaining, I mean?"

Her lips twitched a bit. "I'd just as soon not be stabbed, but it beats working in the salt flats. Those folks work their fingers to the bone."

"Is it that hard to pick up salt?"

"Depends on how much of it there is," she said pointedly.

I squinted a bit in the twilight and tried to focus on the moment. Cobblestone. Weathered lumber. The smell of brine in the distance. Torchlight flickered fitfully from around unknown corners and side streets; never in the avenues down which Dani led me. While a few carts trundled somewhere beyond sight—cleaners, perhaps—a city of thousands seemed to have made its way to bed.

When I observed as much to the captain, she actually chuckled. "We're a hard-working people; we're not apt to be up to all hours like folks from the capital."

"They work hard in Ath-Olomahn, too," I told her. "Not me, mind, but others do. We're not all looking for the next bar or party."

She glanced sidelong as we walked. "Do you not remember last night?"

I frowned. "Did anyone come to harm?"

"Only your pride, I suspect."

"Well, that shite's been dead for years. If no one was hurt, I figure I don't need to know. Instead, maybe you tell me about the victim?"

We came around the corner and found a large stone building on the far side of a courtyard. The trees near Agamostras grew thin and spindly, like they couldn’t quite decide to be ready for the desert or the ocean to take over; these had been groomed for show. The building, for its part, actually had enough torchlight that I could see broad doors, sheathed in brass, on the far side. The tall windows were lidless and lightless, and iron bars wrapped across stained glass. I wrinkled my nose at the smell of them.

"Merchant? Or factory?"

"Yes." At my look, she added, "Uzol Mirris was our lead salt exporter. Generated a lot of tax revenue for his Lordship, and he's the one who had all the contacts for trade. You can understand the concern here, why we'd like to keep it quiet."

"Certainly. How'd he die?"

"Better we show you."

"That bad, huh?"

Dani didn’t answer. Instead, we crossed the courtyard and, after she produced a key, stepped inside the building.

It looked like prime merchant country: rich rugs, tapestries, paintings. The size of the place would have impressed any other citizen of this town, and not a small number of Ath-Olomahn's own residents. But, in keeping with the habits of the stupidly well-off, the late Master Uzol spent extra money in reminding supplicants just how rich he was.

Fat lot of good it did him.

Dani led me through an antechamber and into a dining area. Dinner was still on the table; my stomach growled a bit at the sight and smell of roast quail and mushrooms. Fae weren't usually fond of meats, but I'd picked up a few bad habits in my time away from the court. Stuffing my face with a dead man’s meal wasn’t my finest moment, but it tasted a damn sight better than the swill at the jail.

Fortunately, the captain was too busy kicking a guard awake to notice. The middle-age man bolted upright with a start and saluted. "Captain! Yes, all clear, no change here, everything well."

"Except for the dead men," she corrected.

"Yeah, uh, ’cept for them, ’course."

I found him on the other side of the table. At least, I assume it was him: a prune-like figure, wrinkled beyond measure, desiccated and dried. The eyes were there, deep in the sockets, but shriveled. He looked as though he'd been left to cure in desert air for a thousand years. And no surprise: the body had been pulled from a pile of salt near as large as the table.

I knelt and examined the corpse, aware that the guard and the captain had stopped arguing long enough to look at me. "Hmm."

"Bit of a problem, killing a man with his own wares," the guard said.

"It would be," I agreed, "if that's what'd happened."

"You said what now?" Dani asked.

I put on a pair of gloves and tilted his head to the side. "He was like this when he was found?"

"Yeah," the guard said promptly. "Or, well, maid found the pile of salt when she was cleaning up after supper. We brushed it off just to make sure it was him, you know?"

"I see. Well, he didn't die from the salt—he was clubbed on the side of the head by something large. Very large. And blunt, since there's no blood." I swiveled the head in a few unnatural directions; the skin creaked in protest. "Nearly snapped his neck. The salt, for whatever reason, followed. There was another body?"

"The footman," he told me. "Found him out back. No piles of salt, though."

I pulled a small mortar and a firestick out of my pack. I scooped up a pinch, being careful not to touch it directly, then tapped the stick against the rim. A bit of fire shook out and promptly set the salt alight. A green flame rose up out of the bowl; it smelled oddly of apples.

I swore a bit under my breath.

"Miss Maura," Dani asked, "is that not normal?"

"It's not." I pushed myself to my feet, set the blazing mortar on the table, and took off my gloves. "Salt burns orange under most circumstances. If there's ever been a case where one of yer salt bins caught fire, you’d see it for leagues, yeah? But the culprit? Well, they could have burned the evidence quite easily, save for the fact that the salt itself was enchanted."

"The salt—" the guard stammered. "What, the salt flakes ganged up and killed him?"

"Yes. Not the way you mean, but yes." I looked over at Dani. "Did this man have enemies?"

"He was the richest man in town—save maybe his Lordship—and a canny merchant. His own family hated him. He threw one ex-wife into prison; the other two cursed him until they died."

"Anyone with enough magical know-how to make a salt golem?"

"A sa—" she stopped and stared. "Nay. We're not as magical as you are; the peasants hate the arcane. And as I said, no sorcerers live within leagues of this city. I don't know who would have such a power."

I grabbed a silver cloche and dropped it on top of the mortar. I could feel, rather than see, the fire go out. "In that case, we'll need to do this the old-fashioned way." I nodded to the far end of the table. "The golem was unstable enough that it left behind pockets ere it collapsed on him. We'll follow the grains back to the source."

The guard blurted, "You're gonna look for salt in the cobblestones outside?"

I smiled beatifically. "Nope. You are. I'ma just set it on fire."

* * *

The evening in Agamostras would have been beautiful, if it weren’t for the death. The ocean, far past the salt flats, gave pulse to the world, and the air was clear—if a bit chilly. Some hours into the investigation, the city had gone to sleep, leaving only the marsh birds and distant four-legged hunters to taunt one another back and forth.

The footman hadn’t been buried in salt, but there’d been salt in the man’s boots near up to his knees, and it came pouring out of his nose and mouth when we turned him over. Same green to the burn. Large gold-plated candle-stick on the floor near the body. Footman must have gotten brave and the salt-golem whacked him one for his troubles.

Dani watched me work, which was a bit unnerving. I don’t mind performing. Hell, sometimes that’s how I pay for drinks—local science labs for the drunk and disorderly—but stopping to explain chemical reactions and trace elements to her only slowed me down. As much as I loved staring into those eyes of hers, that wasn’t bringing me closer to solving the problem and earning a bit of freedom.

“If my men are searching for salt,” Dani asked, “then what are we still doing here?”

“More clues. Other clues. A better clue, if I’m correct. Be patient.”

After I'd taken the ninth pile of salt into the dining room and sifted through it with my brush, she sighed loudly. "Can’t this be sped up?"

"Did you want something true," I asked, "or something quick?"

"Both would be nice."

"Truth is, you can’t rush facts."

"…but you could, couldn’t you?"

I looked up at her. "Make something up?"

She waved her hand vaguely. "Magic something. Find the trail of salt back to the source."

I looked at her, mildly stupefied. "The source is easy. You have it piled in gobs outside the city. I’m not looking for the salt. I’m looking for the sorcerer." I gestured toward a small pile of salt near the table leg. "Golems oft have somethin’ inside them. A small personal thing." I took my brush and pushed aside some of the salt.

Aha!

I pulled a small pin from the carpet. It was gold, in the shape of one of the long-legged marsh-birds. It once had a gemstone for an eye, now gone, but it was attached to a piece of ragged brown silk.

Finally.

"His enemies," I asked. "Any family?"

"Living? Only his ex-wife," Dani confirmed, "but she's in prison. No children by any wife." She made a face. "There were stories. I can't say this man deserved this, but it would be a lie if I said I was not tempted."

My mouth twisted a bit. "What about the local nobility?"

"His Lordship wasn't fond. Felt Uzol should have left his trade contacts in noble hands. They never got along; he's the only man who could disagree with his Lordship in public."

I held up the pin, but pulled it back from the Captain’s grasp when she reached for it. "Nuh-uh, no touching the science."

"It looks lovely."

"Right? Exquisite craftsmanship. Uzol must have bought it for someone important. Unless the workaday humans pooled their money?"

Dani scoffed. "The salt trade exploits hundreds of workers. Not saying they wouldn't rejoice, but they couldn't afford half a trinket such as that. Not on their wages."

"Who would Uzol then consider important enough to gift or bribe with this? His Lordship?”

"Perhaps, but his Lordship isn’t under investigation."

I tilted my head and stared at her.

Dani blinked and frowned. "No," she said. "His Lordship is not under investigation."

I shrugged. "Well, I can only tell you what the truth is."

"You say that," she warned, "I’m throwing you back in your cell."

This isn’t that unusual either. Lords and ladies put me on these cases because humans are…well, sort of rotten, aren’t they? Tricky, duplicitous, murdery, self-centered fools. It’s a wonder their armies held up as long as they did against ours.

Not that my people are much better, mind—but humans are a lot more fun.

All the same, humans get downright nasty when I tell ’em the truth. They laugh when I start off by sayin’ lies cost extra, and then they’re upset when they find out I meant it. You want a bedtime story? I’m not yer gal.

But I also know there’s a time and a place, and this wasn’t it. I put the pin into my pocket and said, "Best I don’t say that, then."

"Good. So if you’re not going to follow a trail of salt somewhere, what are you doing?"

"Giving ’em time to attack again."

Dani’s jaw dropped. "What?"

"If we’re on the case, we’re a threat; and we've seen the sorcerer take care with their messes, yeah? They'll act tonight, before all yon magic-panicky humans wake up. But a new salt-golem attracts a lot of attention with all your guards running around chasing salt-piles. We'll know as soon as it's coming. And if there’s an active golem in front of us, then yes, that’s when I can use a bit of—" I waggled my fingers at her. She cringed at the gesture, as though it were impugning the honor of her mother.

"You’re using my men as bait. You might get good men killed."

I shrugged. "You wanted my help, not the other way around, and I don’t recall there being any stipulations on how I did it."

Her lovely eyes turned hard as coal and burned as hot. "Do you know what’ll happen to you if one of my friends dies on your watch?"

My wings flexed a bit as I drew myself up. "Same thing you were going to do if they didn’t." She opened her mouth to argue, but this time it was one admonishing finger I brandished at her. "Don’t deny it. You’re not a good liar. And my people invented it; we can tell."

Which was, itself, a bold-faced lie, but I figured Dani wouldn’t know that.

When she failed to defend her position, I put my hand on my hip. "Look. I get that his Lordship is descended from a good man, but that’s not the same thing as being good himself. If you let him give those sorts of orders—if you carry them out—you’re not helping him, and you’re sending yourself down a shite sorta path." I looked around; no other guards to be seen. "When I do figure this out, and I will, you’re gonna have to make a choice, aren’t you?"

Dani’s lips curled. "That’s between me and my sword, isn’t it?"

I chuckled a bit as I plucked an opened bottle of wine from the dead man’s dinner table. When the Captain protested, I said, "Was he going to use it?"

"No, but—"

"Captain!"

We turned as one to see our lackluster middle-aged human soldier burst through the interior doors. "There’s another one! Came up from the salt flats. And it’s headed toward the Keep!"

Dani drew her sword and looked at me. "You were saying?"

I kept my eyes on her face and not on that disgusting steel-and-iron thing in her hand. "Could be a ruse," I offered. "Or someone has reason to hate them both."

The beautiful statue turned back to her subordinate. "Pull ranks in," she ordered. "Form a line along the avenue. It must not reach his Lordship. We’ll defeat it, and these magicians will rue this day!"

She was half-right, at least, but not in the way she thought.

* * *

The Captain brought me along, perhaps to help demonstrate how little they actually needed my help. Might have been she felt this was proof her Lordship wasn’t the root of it. In any case, we found ten men in various states of armor and weaponry in the courtyard before the Keep.

Mostly I ignored them. The Courtyard was a delight to behold: all the winding avenues opening into a large promenade before the Keep's inner gate. Trees lined the walkways and a series of fountains and skinny canals trickled faithfully amidst the greenery. The waterways had small wooden bridges crisscrossing them, despite the fact that they could easily be hopped by an able human.

A vague memory of dancing through here floated through my head. Human musicians, long since fled, had played their fastest favorites. There may have been a crowd. There was definitely a lot of wine. Now only iron-bearing guards stood by and they were not in a mood for revelry.

The salt-golem trundled down the main avenue, oblivious to all of it.

The creature stood twice the height of Dani, perhaps three times my own, and looked like nothing so much as a granulated shadow of a troll: a crude face, gaping and toothless mouth, and massive hands. Small flakes of white and gold and pink fell from it as it trundled; it stomped the cobblestones hard enough to turn them to dust.

It was not aiming for subtlety.

The men drew their weapons. From the way they held them, I could tell they hadn’t been trained for this. Most were far too young to have seen the last war with the Fae, but too old to have been drafted into the humans’ war with the ogres. Anyone of that sort of age was already at the front, and these constabulary pretenders thought they’d sign up for a pension for the act of roughing up passersby. Maybe throwing a drunk fae into a prison cell. Who were they, compared to tessence such as this?

I sidled up next to Dani. "Now, you might think you can take this thing," I said, "and maybe you could; you seem competent with that…thing you carry. But do you mind if I go first?"

She glanced at me, then said, "I do. If we fall, you’ll be needed to solve what’s left of the case."

"That’s sweet, it is, but it’s also really stupid. I don’t want you claiming I could have saved your men if you—"

"We have our orders," Dani told me.

I turned away, waving my hand dismissively.

It wasn’t pretty. The guards met the golem at the mouth of the avenue, swinging axes and swords and the occasional rusty mace. The creature was slow, and I could tell from here that the tessence that controlled it was dull; if someone watched through the creature's eyes, it could only watch, not control. Self-defense of any sort would be part of the base spell. All the same, it picked up the strongest and fastest of Dani’s men and threw him halfway across the courtyard. Another was sent sprawling by a fist that hit harder than a runaway horse cart. When half the men had dropped, the rest simply threw down their weapons and scattered.

Dani swore a vile oath—a set of words that seemed at odds with her perfectly-formed features. When she raised her sword, though, I held out my hand. "This time, I insist. You’ll know what to do, I swear it."

She paused, looked at me, and gave a quick nod.

My wings beat hard and a moment later my feet were a handspan off the ground. Moonlight cast my shadow along the path until more salt bloomed in small clouds in my wake. Dani stared, her perfect face a mix of awe and revulsion.

So too did the golem. Perhaps it was not so dull a spell as I thought. I darted forward, an open bottle of wine in my left hand, and charged right at the golem.

It raised its arms in anticipation of my blow. It was far too slow to stop me, but I was never going to hit it. That wasn't the point. I had to get but close enough to say, "I know who you are."

The eerie green light in its fist-sized eye sockets flared at this and the creature trundled forward, faster now, to catch me from where I hovered. I flittered back, and back a bit more, darting left and right. As it swung wildly, it paid little attention to where it placed its feet.

When it placed its foot upon the second bridge, I raised my free hand.

Dani circled behind and struck—not the golem, but the ropes holding the bridge across the water.

The golem roared as its feet landed in the canal up to the knees. It was a large, lumbering creature, but the flowing water was already tugging at the ensorcelled salt granules of its body. It could not jump, nor fly. It could only move its fists furiously in my direction, lower and lower as the creature dissolved.

It was then, and only then, that I took a swig of wine and spat it in the creatures’ eyes.

The tessence was simple. Juvenile, even. But it was enough. The green light in the eye sockets flared—and then flew out of the creature’s head and toward a point at the far corner of the city. I fell to the ground and poured wine onto the cobblestones beside me. Within a moment, I could see not only the location of the murderer, but their reflection in a basin of water.

Easy.

The tessence nearby, though? It called to me. As the golem disintegrated, the tessence needed somewhere to go, and my bones ached for it. It had been so many days since my last magical binge. I swore I was over the stuff, but…

Later, I’d tell myself and others I absorbed the tessence to save Dani and the small crowd of homeowners starting to gather in the courtyard, summoned by the noise. But that’s a lie, and I paid extra for it. For I pulled all that tessence into me just because it felt good to do. It set my senses alight and made my wings glow bright enough to shame the stars above—and soon I was puking rainbows and glitter back onto the cobblestones. It tasted like cheap wine and salt. It tasted like broken will.

As the pommel of Dani’s sword hit me in the back of the head, I knew it tasted like something I’d gladly do again.

* * *

The air in the jail cell tasted like an old, used washcloth. But, like an old washcloth, it felt familiar. Disgusting, but familiar. It was where I expected to be. And while I hated the fact that Dani held true to her shitty oath, it was where I hoped I’d be.

I opened my eyes and saw my name, “Maura Daanon,” glittering a bit in the moonlight. It must have picked up some of the residual tessence in my system. I groaned a bit as I sat up. It felt good at the time—what fae could resist binging upon the raw magical material of the world? But I was already regretting it, and I knew that wasn’t going to stop.

"Didn’t expect you back here," a voice said. I turned my head, despite my muscles arguing otherwise, and saw the older woman from before reaching blistered hands toward me. Once-fine brown silks brushed a bit of salt off my wings. She had the decency to look concerned.

"Had to," I said. I pulled a small, golden pin out of my pocket. "You dropped something."

Her face remained neutral, but there was just the faintest hesitation when she saw the sculpted marsh bird. That was proof enough. When she realized she was had, she laughed a bit. Her laugh must have sounded lyrical once, before the tessence destroyed her body.

"He wasn’t a kind man, was he?" I asked.

"No. No, he wasn’t." She said it with the sort of conviction one reserves for the weather. "Neither is his Lordship—my brother. He deserved much the same."

"Where’d you learn the spells?" I asked. "I’m just curious; Dani assured me there’s no magic here."

"She would," she snorted. "The groundseers stopped casting where we could be seen, but half the women of this town know little tricks. Been the only way to make sure there’s enough bread and water for the little ones. Uzol, and his Lordship, and those before them? They bled this city dry."

"Did he catch on? That why you’re here?"

She gave another quick nod. "Not the magic, else I’d be dead. But things had gone missing. Supplies that I donated behind his back. I was trying to set things right. And now…now, I suspect you’ll tell them I’m a killer?"

I blinked. "I should say not. Lies cost them extra."

I pushed myself to my feet. A groan came from my mouth, but it felt like someone else’s pain. All the same, I shuffled toward the bars. No guards in sight, but I could smell the faintest trace of lilac.

"So, Captain," I whispered, "what are your orders now?"

The voice came from just out of view. "I’m to kill you, and her, and anyone associated with her."

A laugh like a gasp escaped my body. "Might be half the city. You okay with that?"

The faintest sound of chainmail rustling followed, and the statuesque woman pivoted into view. She looked down at me and smiled. "That’s between me and the sword, isn’t it?"

"It is." Then I grinned up at her. "But I'll find out once there's nothin' between me and the sword anymore. Maybe tell me now, spare the drama?"

Dani frowned at that. Her hand dropped to her waist, drew, and thrust forward.

I heard the lock turning over. Looking down, where I half-expected a sword to be, I saw a key undoing the bars to which I was clinging. I took a quick step back before the door swung outward and took me with it.

Dani reached down and pulled up my pack. "I expect," she told me, "you’ll want to be scarce in the city for a bit. Good thing you're carrying a message for me."

"Was I?"

"Back to the Capital. To let them know about the passing of his Lordship." She glanced at the old woman, then back at me. "It was quite tragic. If they have a response…look me up when you bring it back?"

Smiling hurt, but I did it all the same. I gave a half-salute and said, "Aye, Captain." Then I wrapped my arms around my pack and put one foot in front of the other. Pain radiated through me with every step, but that would fade. My smile lasted until I passed through the northern gates.

When I turned, the sun was coming up in the east, its first beams landing on mountains of white near the marshes. A few startled marsh birds took wing, sending small clouds of salt rolling across the golden waters. The birds landed somewhere out of sight, on the other side of the gleaming stone walls.

I turned with a sigh and opened my backpack. I was pretty certain there was something in there for hangovers.

COLONY ZNB

by Jason Palmatier

Illustration by Ariel Guzman

"Facade seal is established," Reclamation Hierarch Salsar intoned, inspecting the ancient handheld digicomp in their six-fingered hand. "You may initiate LosCol entry, Technitiate."

"Yes, Hierarch," Technitiate Coezak responded, turning their large head inside their oversized bubble helmet. With a single, delicate finger—and a visible shudder—they pushed a flat green button next to the LosCol dome's outer door.

All six of the Knowledge Reclamation Missionaries stepped back as an ominous clang sounded into the still air of Zeta Nebulon's second planet, Bravo.

"What was tha—?"

"Quiet, Inspectorate Palbut!" Hierarch Salsar barked. "We must observe every detail of this Sacred Operation for the sake of the Unistamer Empire!"

Inspectorate Palbut shrank from the Hierarch's anger. "Y-yes, Hierarch."

The reverberations died away slowly, replaced by a noise that sounded like a tri-winged Kluftrung regurgitating its waste sack over and over and over again.

"Technitiate, silence that noise!" Hierarch Salsar shouted, waving their hands by the side of their helmet to no effect.

Technitiate Coezak closed their hand in mid-air with authority.

The noise continued.

Technitiate Coezak wrinkled the emolines above their eyes and chopped a hand through the air, six fingers held flat.

The noise continued.

"Hierarch, I believe the digicomp is indicating something," Wayfinder Brecho said, pointing three fingers at the blinking anctech in the Hierarch's hand.

The Hierarch looked down and pressed a digit to the obscenely hard surface of the digicomp. A flashing rectangle on its flat screen disappeared and the cogit-splitting noise ended. The Hierarch waved the unpleasant sensation of physical contact from their finger and looked ahead.

A ridiculously thick door had slid inward and to the side, revealing a small internal room with a similar door at its other end. With squared shoulders and determined emowrinkles, the Hierarch strode forward. "Follow me."

The rest of the party traded glances, trepidation rippling above their eyes. They slowly crowded forward. With a displeased poke, the Hierarch activated something on the digicomp that closed the outer door, initiated an alarming hissing sequence composed of what appeared to be atmospheric particles, and finally opened the inner door. The Hierarch stepped through and the rest followed.

They looked around in awe.

"The corridors are composed of hard material, much like the exterior!" The heretofore silent Rednitiate Habkem shouted in scandalized alarm.

"It is beyond barbaric," Ologyest Lietre said from the back of the group. "They lived like the most savage of Grungltests. How can it even be that they are our ancestors?"

Hierarch Salsar held up a hand. "It is not our place to judge the Ancients. Their colonization of the stars brought us to the worlds that became the Great Ring and that is enough."

"But the Great Ring is failing! The resources have all been used up!" Ologyest Lietre spat in disgust.

"And the Great Haze hems us in…" Wayfinder Brecho mused sullenly.

"Of course it does!" Hierarch Salsar shouted. "It is the burden of our time. That is why we have been sent to this, the last of the blind colonies, to learn how the Ancients colonized without the aide of the all-helping Aether…wait, why are we talking about this again? Have we not discussed this a quantillion times on numerous other occasions?"

The others in the group looked about sheepishly.

"Ah, I see. You are simply delaying the inevitable." The Hierarch looked at each of them in turn, settling on Ologyest Lietre. "Ologyest, how do the atmospherics read?"

The scientist's lips whitened. Reluctantly they waved a hand. A schematic of the air materialized before them, rotating slowly. "The mix of component parts is breathable, though high in oxygen and low in hydrogen."

"That makes no sense!" cried Rednitiate Habkem. "Why would you filter out the most plentiful substance in all Unity?"

"Perhaps they could not use it…" Ologyest Lietre mused.

"By the Quants, they could not have been so lowly!" Wayfinder Brecho shouted.

"Will the lack of hydrogen effect us?" Hierarch Salsar asked.

"No, but the increased oxygen may lead to cognitive…anomalies."

Everyone, yet again, exchanged glances.

Hierarch Salsar noted quavering emolines through all five helmet bubbles. It was time to act. "Then it is settled. Suits off!"

The Hierarch closed their fingers before their face and pulled backwards. With an audible pop the bubble disappeared from around their head and an invisible shell of force winked out around their body.

"Hierarch!" Ologyest Lietre cried.

The other party members stared in stunned silence.

With star-willed determination the Hierarch sucked in air until all four lungs were full to bursting. They held it in for five full cesium cycles.

"Bwe-aaahhhhhhhhh…"

Everyone jumped back.

"See," the Hierarch said, large eyes somewhat glassy. "The atmosphere in here is fine."

Ologyest Lietre swallowed heavily but whisked their own protective suit away. The others soon followed.

"Wow, I can't believe how good this air feels in my carbon exchangers," commented Technitiate Coezak.

"I concur," Inspectorate Palbut said, sucking in another breath of the ancient mix. "Our ancestors appear to be complete Fantaks at building and absolute Kiblstiqs at gesture interfaces but they sure knew how to breathe."

"Here, here!"

"Wayfinder Brecho," the Hierarch announced loudly, "let us explore this facility and determine if it can teach us to colonize inside the Haze."

"Certainly, Hierarch!" Wayfinder Brecho boomed. They looked left and right. "These hallways appear to circumnavigate the outer edges of this structure. Given the hostility of the outside environment, I would expect the systems deemed critical for survival are located near the center. Therefore, we should continue straight ahead down this large concourse."

"Excellent!" the Hierarch said.

They stepped forward as one, heads swiveling to take in everything around them.

"Look, doors and hallways branch off from here at regular intervals," Inspectorate Palbut noted.

"Yes, and there are humorously large doors between them that could partition this concourse into many small sections," Wayfinder Brecho added.

"For what purpose?" Rednitiate Habkem asked.

"I suppose they could prevent the entire facility from being lost in the event a part of it was compromised," Technitiate Coezak mused.

"Wouldn't their Aether Manipulator handle that?" Rednitiate Habkem asked.

"I am unable detect any consistent signs of Aether manipulation within this facility," Ologyest Lietre said, inspecting another floating schematic as they walked.

"They created all this without any aid of the Aether?" Inspectorate Palbut asked incredulously.

"Only faint residual distortions remain, there is nothing focused," Ologyest Lietre replied.

"That is absurd!" Inspectorate Palbut said.

"Not as absurd as this walking surface," Rednitiate Habkem interjected. "It is made of the same hard substance as the outside of this place. My podiatic membranes feel like they're getting fluktagged by a Diblkleck."

"Rednitiate Habkem, the language!" the Hierarch barked.

"Sorry, Hierarch," Rednitiate Habkem said with a shrug. "It is the truth. But even with that, if they have no Aether control then perhaps this facility can teach us how to survive in the Haze without it…"

"Cease your blasphemies!" Hierarch Salsar cried, scandalized. "We will not abandon the Aether! We must merely learn the Ancient's methods for determining their next location without the Aether's Far Sight. With that we can pierce the Haze and establish new colonies as we have done since this," The Hierarch waved their hands at the walls, "the last of the pre-Aether colonies, was created."

"Of course, Hierarch."

"Wait!" Ologyest Lietre interrupted, holding up a hand.

Everyone clumped together, wincing as the bottoms of their feet slapped the cold floor with obscene force.

"Look through those doors," Ologyest Lietre continued.

Heads turned, mouths dropped open.

"What in the name of Red Shift…" Hierarch Salsar breathed.

Beyond the small entry door great green leaves pressed against a transparent material steamed with moisture. In the small patches, where rivulets of water had coalesced and raced towards the floor, more green could be seen, composed of vines and stalks, stems and pistils. Red, orange, yellow, and purple flowers popped from the verdant extravaganza with lewd brightness, tended to by creatures who hovered and darted about with primal quickness.

"It is an ecosystem…" Ologyest Lietre breathed.

"An ecosystem of the Ancients!" Wayfinder Brecho shouted, eyes wild. "A relic of the past, an artifact from the very beginnings of the Path!"

The party wandered forward into the room, awestruck, spreading out along the observation windows that curved away to their left and right down hallways that appeared to completely circumnavigate the vast, domed containment room. A single, small door led into the space.

"How could it have survived these long millennia without Aether manipulation?" Ologyest Lietre asked.

"It is a mystery that must be solved," Inspectorate Palbut said. "The survival of all those who inhabit the Ring rests with our discoveries here. No hargtrap must be left unfluggaled."

"I agree," Hierarch Salsar said. "Technitiate Coezak, open the door to the ecosystem."

"Yes, zir!" Technitiate Coezak barked.

Hands waved, fingers twiddled. Nothing happened.

"Ah, Hierarch…" Wayfinder Brecho said, gesturing to the digicomp.

"Oh, yes, of course," the Hierarch said, looking at the green query button that pulsed on the screen. "I should have remembered that gestures do not work here…" The Hierarch's emolines knit in self-introspection. "I wonder…"

"Hierarch, the digicomp…" Wayfinder Brecho prodded.

"Wha—? Yes. Yes, of course." The Hierarch pressed the screen, unable to suppress a shudder at the suit-less contact.

A light above the door switched from red to green, emitting a sound like the cooing of a contented Starflam. With a slight groan and sudden pop, the door split in two at its center and slid away. Air laced with moisture rushed out, covering their skin with foreign wetness.

"Gah! It sucks at my skin like a Hockltrap!" Ologyest Lietre cried, moist arms held to the sides in horror.

"I felt it enter my air passages like thick Frantog sap!" Inspectorate Palbut gagged.

"It is crawling above my emolines! It is crawling above my emolines!" Wayfinder Brecho wailed, shaking their head back and forth with squinted eyes.

"We should have tested it first!" Rednitiate Habkem yelled, stumbling backwards. "Why are we proceeding so recklessly?!"

"The oxygen!" Hierarch Salsar shouted, eyes widening in understanding. "The oxygen has affected our cognitive abilities! We have been behaving like curious Mokentots instead of serious explorers!"

Bzzzzzz

"Wait, what is that?" Inspectorate Palbut squeaked, pointing to a minuscule flying creature that wafted through the door emitting a high-pitched buzz. Everyone watched its erratic flight, transfixed, until it dropped with sudden purpose upon the stomach of the Inspectorate.

"Gah!"

The Inspectorate stumbled back as the tiny creature plunged an elongated mouth part into their skin. "By the love of Star Fusion, it has violated my epidermic barrier!" The Inspectorate raised a hand to deliver a barbaric slap to their own skin.

"Wait!" Hierarch Salsar cried, holding out a hand. "Perhaps there will be no adverse effect."

All stood rooted, eyes upon the creature as it sat motionless, its back-most legs raised in the air. After a moment of extreme tension, broken only by Inspectorate Palbut's whimpering, the creature detached itself and buzzed back into the air. Everyone let out a great sigh of relief.

"There, see. It has only caused a small bump to form where it—"

"Whaa-gaaaa!" Inspectorate Palbut cried as the small bump expanded outward and upward and finally burst. Red, green, and purple fluids gushed out, followed by various organs that exited with sick plopping sounds. Inspectorate Palbut's head bobbled like a spastic Keeblob. Their eyes bulged and the skin of their face shrank inward. The splashy noises about their feet morphed from wet plops to hard clatters as bones ejected from the stomach hole with alarming force. Then, with a slurping sound that not a single one of the Knowledge Reclamation Missionaries would ever be able to forget in their lifetimes, the Inspectorate's substantial skull slid down the inside of their neck and out their stomach with a pwowp, clattering onto the hard floor. It spun lazily in the spreading pool that was the former Inspectorate's insides.

The Inspectorate's empty skin fell into a wrinkled pile upon the floor with a schlump.

Technitiate Coezak fell to their knees, eyes rolling back in full mental shutdown at the sight.

Wayfinder Brecho stared at the pile of skin, mouth hanging open, Holy Path Gazers empty of all direction.

Ologyest Lietre blinked over and over and over again.

Hierarch Salsar jerked violently as some vestigial muscles around their digestive chambers attempted to force sustenance back from whence it had come.

"Son of a Bleekard, that was warped!" Rednitiate Habkem declared, stepping back from the mixed slurry that oozed across the floor.

Hierarch Salsar looked up, still heaving, fear shimmering behind their eyes.

Rednitiate Habkem saw it, looked to the other mentally-incapacitated party members and leapt into barbaric action. A quick slap to the face of the Ologyest, a grab of the Wayfinder's arm, and a physical dragging of the Technitiate brought them out into the main concourse. Rednitiate Habkem poked at the digicomp in the Hierarch’s hand as their leader staggered past and the door that led into the ecology observation ring scraped shut.

"Never open that door again!" Rednitiate Habkem yelled while waving a hand over their mid-section. Nothing happened. Rednitiate Habkem looked down in shock. "My Aether suit is not activating."

A faint splorching came from the unit attached to the rednitiate's waist. With a timidity born out of a lifetime of non-touching, Rednitiate Habkem gingerly poked the gelatinous glob. "It is slick with the air of that place!" They waved a hand before the unit again, eliciting another sad splorch. "The moisture in that archaic air has interfered with the Aether manipulator's operation!"

"You…you made forceful physical contact with my face," Ologyest Lietre said, aghast, rubbing at the reddening mark upon their yellowish face.

Rednitiate Habkem looked up, confused for a moment, then said, "I had to! You were caught in a visual initialization loop!"

"You exerted pressure upon my upper appendage, inflicting subcutaneous damage to my musculature!" Wayfinder Brecho said in horror while rubbing delicately at their upper arm.

"You were just standing there, staring! You had clearly lost the Way!"

"So you decided to show it to me by crushing my arm?!"

"You—" said a dazed voice, cutting Rednitiate Habkem's reply short.

Everyone looked to Technitiate Coezak, who half-lay, half-sat on the floor.

"You—"

"Yes, Technitiate?" Rednitiate Habkem asked, raising a single emoline.

"You seized my upper torso with your manipulating appendages, tipped me past my balance point, dragged me through the door, and left me in this position upon the hard floor."

Everyone looked to Rednitiate Habkem to see what they had to say.

"I did what had to be done!" Rednitiate Habkem screamed.

Angry emolines abounded.

The Hierarch held up a hand. "Yes, Rednitiate Habkem's actions were shocking, but they did not physically touch me, so I think they were okay."

"Oh, come on!" Technitiate Coezak cried.

A beeping sound cut through the rest of the indignation.

"Oh my, the digicomp is flashing something in a very urgent manner," the Hierarch said.

"Give me that!" Technitiate Coezak barked, swiping the digicomp from the Hierarch's hands. Even Rednitiate Habkem looked appalled at the aggressive move.

"Technitiate Coezak!" the Hierarch began, but the technitiate cut them off.

"It's displaying the emblem of the Starry Order of Cryoists…" Technitiate Coezak muttered.

Wayfinder Brecho leaned in. "No, it is very similar but it is missing the four primary stars of Ring Origin and the swoop of Aether. Everything else looks the same. It appears to be indicating that direction." The Wayfinder pointed down the main concourse to a door on the right.

"I do not think we should go down there," Ologyest Lietre said resolutely.

The Hierarch took a deep breath. "The loss of Inspectorate Palbut is terrible, I will assent. But our mission is to determine if this facility can aid us in colonizing in the Haze and I do not believe we have enough information at this time to answer that."

"I have enough information! Information I am never going to be able to forget!" Ologyest Lietre shrieked.

Several missionaries nodded in agreement.

Hierarch Salsar paled but said shakily, "Nevertheless, we have a duty to all who inhabit the Ring to continue on."

The group fell in behind the Hierarch as they forged ahead, their heads snapping to and fro at the slightest buzzing sound.

"The lights of this place hum like that death creature," Technitiate Coezak griped, looking up at the long glowing tubes that lit the concourse.

"Perhaps they are filled with them!" Ologyest Lietre screeched, ducking down.

"Ologyest Lietre!" Hierarch Salsar barked. "You are supposed to be our logical studier of all things, not a pre-cognian Inner Ringer driven by uninformed superstitions!"

"But what if they are?" Wayfinder Brecho whispered in horror.

"Bah!" Hierarch Salsar spat.

"We are here," Technitiate Coezak said, looking from the flashing digicomp to a double wide door painted with the pseudo-Starry Order of Cryoists symbol.

"I don't think you should open that doo—" Ologyest Lietre started, but the swoosh of the double doors parting cut him off.

"It is empty," Hierarch Salsar said.

The missionaries peered in from the doorway at a long room devoid of Aether Wrappings, the Sustaining Glow, and the Hum of Humane-ity.

"You are right. They must have abandoned this place completely, leaving no one behind."

"No," Technitiate Coezak breathed, looking at the digicomp. "I cannot believe it."

"What? What do you see?" Hierarch Salsar demanded, leaning in.

"They are in the walls!" Technitiate Coezak said. "They have embedded the poor souls in the wall!"

"That is madness!" Wayfinder Brecho cried.

"Well," Ologyest Lietre said, tremulously. "Perhaps not."

Everyone turned on the ologyest, looking surprised. The shaking missionary pointed a finger at the floor. "Everything the Ancients appear to have built is made out of this hard material. Perhaps it is the only medium with which they knew how to work."

"If you are right, then we may yet find the answers that we seek here," Hierarch Salsar said. "If they had no knowledge of the Aether, they would not have been able to read its vibrations and see what lay at their Arrival Point. They could at most see the makeup of the star, the gross forms of the planets, all from some distant time in the past."

"I know that, Hierarch," the Ologyest said.

"But traveling like that is sheer madness. They must have used something else to determine where to go," the Hierarch reasoned, looking around at the crude structure. "What was it?"

"I…do not know," the ologyest said, lowering their finger.

An uncomfortable silence descended. The missionaries looked at the lights that glowed inside the rectangular delineations marking the cryo-units within the walls. Most were red, one was blue. The digicomp beeped and flashed a rectangle with multiple tiny images arranged inside it.

"It appears there are some rudimentary recordings stored on the cryo facility's controlling digicomp," Technitiate Coezak said. "They have been automatically added to this device. Shall I access them?"

"You mean," Wayfinder Brecho breathed, "recordings of the Ancients?"

"I assume so," Technitiate Coezak said.

The missionaries looked at one another, eyes wide.