Page 114 of The Only Way Out Is Up

I rebuild the REPEL sigwork in Star’s shield, double- and triple-check the BLAST weapons in his carapace, oil his joints, and polish his armor to a fine sheen. Eventually, even he begins to tire of so much attention.

[Demand: go and get some sleep.]

I stare at him, uncomprehending. Sleep seems like a distant dream.

I’m not sure I can.

[Insistence: try. We can lose tomorrow’s fight because of you just as easily as me, you know.]

I smile at him. You want to win that badly, too?

[Obvious: of course I do! I am the best runic in Hod, and that needs to be acknowledged.]

I acknowledge it.

[Clarification: widely acknowledged.]

Fair enough.

[Admission: I also miss the others. Somi and Spike.]

Wait, really? They don’t even know you’re… you.

[Reminiscence: of course. But I have little to do in the tunnels but observe you all. It is difficult not to grow sympathetic.]

Look at you, getting attached to meat creatures.

[Command: silence, meat creature.]

I grin and pat his shell. Once this is all over, I’ll introduce you properly.

[Agreement: I would like that.]

I wonder, again, what kind of thing Star really is. He’s not like Bitey or any of the others, preprogrammed behaviors embedded into sigils and wire. His foundation sigil is THINK, and so he thinks. I haven’t even told Ky about that; she’d probably want me to make another one.

Could I make another one? What would happen if I tried?

I eventually succumb to Star’s insistence and return to the main house to rest, though I have a suspicion hours of staring at the ceiling are all that await me. In the main hall, however, Bradley is waiting for me with an amber-colored bottle in hand.

“Ah, Master Taj,” he says, giving me an avuncular smile. “I was just about to come looking. Miss Kycilea requested that you bring her this.” He extends the bottle to me. “She’s in the blue lounge, I believe.”

“She asked me to bring it to her?”

He shrugs delicately. I take the bottle, a bit mystified, and give an embarrassed cough.

“You’ll have to remind me of the way,” I admit.

“Down the hall that way, and take a left before her quarters. The lounge is the first door on your right.”

I nod, trying to engrave that on my memory; it’d be even more embarrassing to have to request directions again. This late there are few servants about, and the sigwork lamps are turned down low so the halls are full of shadows. The lounge door is open a crack, throwing a slice of flickering yellow light across the floor.

“Ky?” I rap at the door with the bottle. “You still awake?”

“Mmm,” she says noncommittally.

The lounge has an actual fireplace, something I’ve not seen elsewhere in the house, and there’s a small fire crackling away. Unlike cookfires in the undercity, where we burn whatever rubbish we can get our hands on, this smells pleasant and woody. Ky sits on a velvet couch facing it, leaning on the armrest with her legs drawn up underneath her.

“Bradley said you wanted this.” I look around for somewhere to put the bottle. “Shall I just leave it, or—”