Page 134 of Ship of Smoke and Steel

The thread stretches, the pull getting stronger. I sprint up the steps, gasping for breath, my thighs on fire. Another fake sky, another metal ceiling. And then—

The pull of the thread shifts abruptly. The stairs continue, winding around and around the endless tower, but the thin line of gray light now points inward. This level has no soil, only ordinary metal deck. There’s a corridor, like the corridors all over Soliton. Here, though, no rust mars the metal. Brushed steel gleams as though it were polished yesterday, and pale, sourceless light washes out all shadows.

I slow, leaning against the wall, straining to breathe. I force myself to walk, down the corridor and in the direction of the increasingly frantic tugs on the Eddica thread. The hallway continues, monotonous and featureless, until the exit has dwindled to a dot behind me. Then, ahead, another dot appears, expanding to a set of double doors, which stand open. There’s brighter light beyond. I start jogging again, gritting my teeth at the pain in my knees.

Beyond the doors is a huge circular chamber. The walls are a metal filigree, interwoven beams, pillars, and girders in a complex web. Between the larger pieces are smaller ones, metal rods the size of my arm, crisscrossing like threads in a loom, and then others smaller still. All of them glow bright with gray Eddica power, pulsing through the room in regular waves, like a heartbeat.

In the center of the room is a circular pillar, about my height, with a flat top like an altar. Energy flows toward it, from the walls into the floor, and up from the floor into this single place. A beam of soft gray light rises from it, shining upward until it disappears into a matching pedestal extending down from the ceiling.

Behind the pillar, there’s an enormous gray stone, like an egg the size of a small house. I ignore it for the moment, because in front of the altar-like structure stands the Scholar, one hand on his cane, the other holding the dredwurm’s eye over his head. The crystal glows a deep, sullen red, like a hot coal, and Eddica energy swirls around it.

Erin and Arin, looking as tired as I feel, are on their knees on either side of their master. Hagan hangs over the altar, suspended in empty space with his dangling feet a yard above the metal. He’s spread-eagled, bands of gray energy wrapped around his wrists and ankles. As I enter, he screams. It’s not a human sound, half keening bird and half watchman’s whistle, sliding across the octaves and into weird modulations that scrape across my mind like fingernails on glass.

“Stubborn,” says the Scholar. He looks over his shoulder and smiles at me. “Hello, Isoka. We’ve been expecting you.”

27

I step into the chamber. “What in the “Rot are you doing?”

“Taking control of Soliton, as I told you I would,” the Scholar says. “This is a friend of yours, I take it? A dead one.”

“Let him go.”

“‘Him’?” The Scholar turns to me, spectacles slipping low on his nose, the eyes behind them full of fire. “There’s no him, Deepwalker. This thing isn’t human. It isn’t even alive. It’s a mistake, a broken cog, a stripped gear. A stray batch of memories you installed by accident.” He grins maliciously. “It’s been getting in my way, but I’ll have it removed in a moment, never fear.”

“I don’t care what you think he is. I need him to close the door to the Garden. The crabs are breaking through!”

“Don’t worry. We’re perfectly safe here.”

“Safe? Everyone is going to die!”

“Everyone down there, yes.” His smile widens. “Regrettable, but necessary.”

“You have got to be rotting joking.” I take a step forward, and Erin and Arin tense. “Let Hagan go now.”

“Or what? You’ll kill me?” He pushes his spectacles up his nose. “Then you’ll never be able to bring Soliton home to your beloved Blessed Empire. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

There is a moment’s pause, a silence filled with the crackle of my blade.

“Which sort are you? I wonder,” he says. “You seem too smart to be a patriot, doing it all for Emperor and Empire. A mercenary? What kind of fortune did they promise you? Or was it the other kind of promise?” He cocks his head. “Yes, that seems more like the Kuon Naga we all know and love. Who does he have? Your lover? Your parents?”

“My sister.” The words force their way out before I can bite them off. I grit my teeth. “How…”

“How do I know?” He pushes his spectacles up with one finger. “Poor Isoka. Do you really think you’re the first young fool the Emperor’s spider has sent to try and take Soliton? Do you think you’re the tenth?”

He laughs, and my head whirls.

“I killed the first few,” the Scholar says. “Seemed logical. Eliminate the competition. It took me some time to realize I’d overestimated Kuon Naga. His attempts were shots in the dark, wild guesses. His agents weren’t dangerous. Most of them got themselves killed anyway. Some gave up as soon as they got here. I think Shiara was one of those, actually.”

“You…” I shake my head. Focus, Isoka. “You’re here for the same reason, aren’t you? To try and steal Soliton.”

“I was. His Royal Majesty the King of Jyashtan, Master of the Six Thrones and rightful ruler of the world, bade me capture the great ship to add to his navy for our next attempt to crush the unrighteous. He promised to make me a prince if I succeeded.” He shrugs. “I may still take him up on the offer. On the other hand, even the King doesn’t really understand Soliton’s power. Maybe I’ll just take the throne for myself.”

He leans forward. “The difference between us, Isoka Deepwalker, is that I was prepared. In Jyashtan we’re not so obsessed with burning old books as you Imperials. His Royal Majesty knew that Eddica, the power of the ancients, was the key to Soliton, and so he sent me here. Your Kuon Naga just got lucky when he chose you. Tenth time’s the charm, I suppose.

“The Well of Spirits. We thought that meant the ship would be haunted, but it’s not like that at all. The spirits are stripped of everything that made them human, all but a few leftover memories, like a fading stain. They’re changed into raw energy and channeled into the mechanism. The greatest source of power you can imagine. And this thing, this incomparable machine, has just been wandering around the oceans of the world because it’s slipped a gear and no one can figure out how to catch it.” He laughs again. “Have you ever heard of anything so absurd?”

I’ve heard enough. “Close the rotting doors. Now.”