It turned out I didn’t know much about cities. My brief experience with one before landing in prison had not, in fact, imparted expertise on urban planning, and Ipoh seemed determined to educate me on that point. Long hallways with boxy rooms to each side were not generally considered very efficient, and lacked allowance for public spaces and drainage. He seemed particularly hung up on the last part, probably because none of us had so much as a hole to relieve ourselves in. The one upside of staring down thirst and starvation was that at least we didn’t have to relieve ourselves often.

Cities, Ipoh informed me, were as diverse as the winds, the result of countless cycles of Ancients trying to one-up each other in creativity and finesse, and to cater for the challenges of various environmental situations. ‘Long, flat and boring’ was near the bottom of his ranking, just below Blue’s prison and slightly higher than something he referred to as ‘the flesh chambers’, which sounded like a place I never wanted to visit.

Searching the rooms was easy, and involved ducking in after one of Ipoh’s lights for a quick scan. We took one side each, with Ptokt keeping pace in the middle. Every time I looked at her, she seemed a little worse than before; her blood hadn’t stopped flowing, and Ipoh had almost used up his entire outer robe replacing bandages. Now, the Sanctioner was covered in sweat despite the leisurely pace, and didn’t speak a word. Ipoh repeated his stories in her language, and she seemed to be listening.

There had been many, many cities. Some had been built on top of each other for thousands of years. Some had burrowed down, reaching into the earth. There was a city half sunk in water, and multiple between islands in the air. There was a city built on the last surviving Great Stair. Cities buried so far beneath the earth their inhabitants had never seen sunlight. And cities on the lip of the Crater, who stared into the suns and dared them to retaliate. There was Blue’s city of canyons, and a city where space didn’t work like it should. And many more abandoned, ruined or forgotten in the endless calamities tearing civilisation upon civilisation apart.

One of which we were walking through.

“How do you know they’re forgotten if no one remembers them?” I asked, ducking my head into the latest vacant rectangle. Nothing.

“Because you can’t take two steps without uncovering something,” came the response. “As you’ve discovered. The world is very, very old, and the further back you go, the murkier things get. It doesn’t help that half the planet is trying to kill you the moment you venture out of the cities. Doesn’t stop people from –”

A loud thud sounded from behind me, and I pivoted back to see Ptokt sprawled on her side on the floor. A faint smear of red marked the ground below her bisected hand where it had soaked through the bandages again.

Ipoh wasn’t far behind. He raced over and rolled the unconscious hunter onto her back, testing for breath before turning her head and checking for injuries. “She’s out of time,” he announced grimly. “Her bleeding should have stopped by now. “I bound it tight enough to make her lose the rest of her fingers. Better them than dying. But it keeps flowing.”

I stared at the hunter, the sole survivor of her group. “But I promised she would –”

“I told you. Not a guarantee.” Gently, he raised the bloody hand, turning it over with careful movements for examination. He didn’t attempt to remove the bandages, and by now I realised it didn’t necessarily matter. “This is much worse than when I last looked at it,” he confirmed, eyes following something I couldn’t see. “The damage is far more extensive.” He drew a line up her forearm, slowing as it neared the elbow, and stopped at a point just above it. “Some must have made it inside her before you triggered your dissuasion. If the stories are true, they’re consuming her to create more of themselves. Exponential replication. It’s probably too late.”

“I’ll turn Magnetism back on,” I said, though Ptokt had been within its radius the first time.

“Don’t,” Ipoh returned sharply. “The razorlings could tear through her organs on the way out.”

“But if it’s her only chance,” I protested, only for Ipoh to shoot me a look that said everything.

There was no chance.

Guide, is there an upgrade I can use to save her?

--Upgrades withheld until a time of greater need.--

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This is a time of greater need, I argued back, scowling.

--It is not. Failure to save Sanctioner Ptokt comprises no significant threat to your wellbeing, and no further upgrades have been banked in reserve.--

You clearly tuned out of Ipoh’s lecture earlier, I noted somewhat bitterly, to no response. How long until more capacity is banked?

--Next capacity available in twenty minutes.--

Then I’d wait.

Ptokt showed no signs of waking while Ipoh attempted to mitigate her blood loss. The Sanctioner’s breathing grew thinner, her face paler. Ipoh mopped sweat off her brow at regular instances, concerned at the fluid leaving her body, while I hovered between continuing to search for the network station and returning to check on the others.

Twenty minutes later, the warrior was barely hanging on.

--Capacity obtained. Based on your current objectives, three potential upgrades are available. Will you accept?--

I glanced down at the rasping Sanctioner. If saving Ptokt was directly relevant to surviving the immediate danger, I asked in response, would it count then?

--All current objectives have been taken into consideration.--

An indirect agreement, maybe, although it wasn’t clear. I was unlikely to get a better offer.

--Your first option is Magnetism: Directional Control,-- informed the Guide, picking up on my acceptance. --This upgrade will allow you to manipulate the direction of magnetic fields within your current range.--

It would let me avoid causing more damage with the razorlings on the way out, maybe. But by the looks of it, it would be too little, too late.

“How detailed are your observational abilities?” I asked Ipoh in a low voice, crouching to meet them both.

“Detailed enough,” said the Servant, looking grim. “At least given the chance to focus. She doesn’t have long; the invaders are starting to amass. A few hours, perhaps. At least she isn’t awake, small mercy.” He glanced up at me. “Better be ready with your deterrence.”

--Your second option is Nutrition,-- the Guide continued. --This upgrade will improve your ability to last without nutrients, slowing your metabolism.--

I knew I needed to pick it at some stage. I was undeniably hungry, my stomach starting to hit me with gnawing pains. The lack of water was even worse, leaving me with a dry throat and a mind that was struggling to focus. Although water would be available soon enough, if my promise came true. Based on how frequently the option had come up, and how more pressing an issue starvation would become, I was sure it would be a future possibility.

But for now, I still had time.

Perhaps the third ability would help keep Ptokt alive.

--Your third option is Locus Specialisation: Attunement,-- the Guide continued, to my sinking disappointment. --This upgrade will allow you to create compatible interfaces between multiple networks. Please make your selection.--

I frowned. I still hadn’t located a network station nearby, and didn’t quite see the benefit. I thought upgrades were supposed to be immediately useful.

--The razorlings as a whole comprise an independent locus network,-- the Guide explained, and I recalled how it had similarly identified the travel station back in the rebirth grove. It possessed more skills than simply organising my upgrades. --By attuning their locus with another such as the travel network, it is possible you may be able to exert some control over their behaviour.--

How do you know?

--It is part of my conceptual framework, much as you possess yours. Some differences are to be expected due to our difference in function.—

It didn’t sound promising, but of the three options given, it was the most ambiguous and vague. The Magnetism upgrade might help remove the razorlings from Ptokt’s body, but she would still die from her wounds.

And yet I’d made a Promise the world had no choice but to contort around. Perhaps an indeterminate impact would be the key to making it happen. Something unlikely my Promise had brought into being. A risk and long shot, but also possibly the key to preventing the world contorting further.

I’ll take Attunement, I decided.

--Locus Specialisation: Attunement, integrated.--

This time I felt no difference in awareness or cognition. No sense of potential connection reached out to me from the razorlings in Ptokt’s body, as unreachable as before.

I rose to my feet with a purpose. “I’m going to find that network station.”

Ipoh gave me a canny stare as he remained seated, iridescent robes covered in rock dust. “That look you wear…” He trailed off.

“What about it?”

“You do look like one of them,” he said. “That confidence. It’s taking you faster than I predicted. There’s no stopping it for your kind, I suppose.” He waved a hand, and a single globe of light appeared floating ahead of me. “Take this.”

Coming from him, it felt like an insult. But his face was more sad than anything.

It made me uncomfortable for reasons I didn’t fully understand. “I’m doing my best to help,” I promised without promising, cupped my hand around the light until it stayed there, and hurried away.