I did not, it turned out, sleep long.

Metallic clatter woke me in time to see one of the wardens sliding a slim rectangular box through one of the gaps. It didn’t quite come at right angles, the container cut in an irregular prism. Thin neon indents decorated one of the wider edges, adding new soft hues to the ones already scintillating around the prison cell. Even the goods used by prisoners were beautiful.

The box contained food on one side and water on the other, divided by internal partition. It was the most welcome sight I could remember in my short existence and I fell on it ravenously, not caring if I happened to be doing it wrong. Stuffing food into a vertical shaft didn’t seem like the most effective way to serve a meal, but I wasn’t about to complain. Whatever it was was warm and tasty, and I didn’t question it. After the initial surge of hunger had been sated, I paid a bit more attention to the contraption itself, marvelled at how the contents of one end didn’t fall out when tipping up the other, and concluded it was one more thing I didn’t understand.

How long do I have until the next capacity threshold? I asked the Guide.

--Capacity is currently available. However, resources will be withheld until a time of greater need.--

What? How is this not a time of need?

--It is. You are vulnerable and in danger. Emergency situations are predicted, with a high probability of sudden shifts in objective. Without sufficient banked upgrades and capabilities, resources must thus be reserved for emergencies to maximise usefulness and extend the life of your current cycle. Once your survivability improves, or more upgrades are banked, resources may then be unlocked at will.--

And how do you know that strategy works? You can’t remember past outcomes any better than I can.

--Unpredictable circumstances are likelier to result in unfavourable outcomes; therefore, functionality has been optimised to adapt with unpredictability.--

I thought I understood most of that. Maybe. Sighing, I set down the food box. The warden, who’d watched me eat, snapped out something I didn’t understand. I would have loved an upgrade to help me speak the language.

When I didn’t move, he gestured at me with a quick scooping motion to return the box. I did so, sliding it past the bars, and backed away. Only then did he approach the cell to retrieve the item, stopping off at the next cell to repeat the process.

They were careful with prisoners, then. I put my head in my hands and made a low groan as the outer door slammed shut in a reverberating clang of metal. Solid rock walls, no windows, heavy doors: I was never getting out of here before Blue’s arrival.

“They’re gone,” the Servant said from the next cell over. “Now’s our chance.”

I shook my head in frustration. “To do what, exactly? If we try and escape, it’s only going to make them angry. Who knows how they’ll treat us then?”

“Defeatist, are we? How refreshing. My dear, you have no idea how powerful you are.”

“Really. What am I going to do, smash the walls in?”

“Perhaps. Who’s to say there isn’t a weak spot behind your cell fallen into disrepair?”

Despite myself, I glanced at the stone in my cell. It didn’t seem weak.

“Don’t check, though,” the Servant continued hastily. “That’s important. If you do, and there isn’t one, that’s a possibility that can’t be called into existence when you need it. In one of life’s great ironies, your ignorance works to your advantage here.”

“And this has something to do with promises, I assume? The ones that bend reality?”

“It does. Frankly, I suspect it’s already been bent. Here I was, thinking I’d been left to die, when you drop conveniently into my lap. Of course, he might just be after you, in which case my wellbeing continues to be an afterthought.”

“He?”

“Red, of course. Haven’t you been listening? It’s almost enough to make me want to switch employers, if that wasn’t suicide. If you’re considering it, I’m not for hire.”

So far, death seemed to rear its head as a topic every time the Ancients came into focus. It wasn’t the best first impression. “They sound horrible, to be honest. Do they all kill people whenever they feel like it?”

The Servant laughed in a voice low enough not to attract the attention of any wardens who might be close enough. It didn’t contain much amusement. “Some more than others. Red is one of the better ones. Blue is worse, but at least maintains the veneer. But eventually, they all stop seeing anyone but their fellow Ancients as important. You will too, if you survive. It’s the fate of all your kind.”

I frowned at that. I didn’t know what kind of person I was, let alone who I wanted to be, but the pitying tone accompanying my companion’s words made me bristle at the assumption regardless. “We’ll see. What about the others? How do they compare?”

“We can talk about that after we’ve escaped. Consider it further incentive to keep me around.” The voice moved closer to the wall, low and rough. “First, repeat after me: ‘Servant Ipoh, Sworn to Red, I promise you and I will both stand free, unnoticed and unharmed outside city borders before Blue arrives.’ That should give us our maximum window.”

I waited. “That’s it?”

“That’s the start. Next we’ll want to start checking the walls for structural deficiencies. Your promises bend reality, not break it. Now say the words.”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

This was not going how Orange had wanted it to, I thought regretfully, and did so. It took a couple of tries before I remembered it perfectly, pausing as I went to let my companion fill in the gaps. Misspeaking was actively dangerous. As before, I felt the weight of it settle over me, ominous and hovering, and knew it had taken hold.

It had been less than a day and already I had two of them. Promises could build up quickly. It was a worrying thought. What would happen if I let too many build up, burying me under self-imposed restrictions? Had this happened to any of the other nine? What horror would such a life be?

“Good,” said the Servant, sounding pleased. “Now, because I can relax enough to think again, second lesson. Never let yourself be talked into a promise that easily again.”

Incredulous, I jumped to my feet. “But –”

“I’m different. I have your best interests at heart. Mainly because I need you to get me out of here. But I might have been wading up to my neck in a bed of lies and hidden agendas.”

“But we set an end point, like you said –”

“A general one. What if I knew Blue had been killed and would never arrive? Even if I had meant it and her plans changed, we could be sitting here indefinitely.”

“But that’s a genuine risk.”

“It is. And that’s why you shouldn’t trust people to make promises for you. Those in the know will twist them. Those who are ignorant will create fatal holes with their negligence. Including you. The best lessons are learnt through experience.”

My hands curled into fists at my sides. “Deliberately misleading someone is a terrible way to instruct them. Something could go wrong, and you’ve been abundantly clear our lives are in danger.” My voice had risen over the course of the sentence, and a sharp protest from one of the prison’s other occupants reminded me to keep it lowered. I paced back and forth over the floor of the cell instead, seething. A lump settled in my throat. I missed Orange. Everyone else I’d encountered so far had met me with only hostility.

And if Orange was out there accidentally making promises to people, who knew what state he’d be in by the time I found him? Tension burnt at my shoulders, sending aches all the way down my arms. I grasped the fingers of each hand around their opposing elbow for something steady to hold onto. I needed to find him. Fast. If I ever could. I had no idea where to even begin.

“Less danger than they were a few minutes ago,” Servant Ipoh was responding to my complaint. “You’ll thank me later. If I were you, I’d start checking walls. Promises don’t make themselves come true.”

I felt too angry to immediately comply. Guide, I addressed my other companion instead. When will the next upgrade threshold be ready?

--Capacity will become available in five hours.--

Plus the one I had stored already. Though chances were the new upgrade would be filed away for safekeeping, too. That avenue seemed firmly out of reach for the time being.

I continued to pace, trying to calm the whirling thoughts in my head. It didn’t help that I could feel my latest promise pressing in with an almost imperceptible pressure, encouraging me to look for escape routes. I didn’t like how it felt, like the desire wasn’t my decision but one imposed on me. It was easy to imagine how I might be held at the point of a knife, made to promise any number of things to exact specifications, and be held to those vows forever. Would that be what Blue would do to me?

I was also starting to see why keeping upgrades in reserve might be handy.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. The prison wardens hadn’t been rough with me despite my poor initial reception; maybe it was indicative of a broader trend. What kind of world was this, where people were sentenced to death or servitude just for existing, or following the wrong people? If I played nicely, cooperated with my captors, maybe they’d be reasonable.

I didn’t see how else I was supposed to do it. I knew nothing about fighting or sneaking around, and I certainly couldn’t talk my way past the language barrier. I was a child lost in an adult’s body, wandering aimlessly and looking for guidance. Of Servant Ipoh’s, I was sceptical.

My foot came down as far as it would go in the opposite corner, and I scraped my boot across the ground, ready to turn around. My arm swung out with the motion.

A familiar sensation suffused the tips of my fingers.

I stopped short. I must have imagined it. Cautiously, I held my palm out again. There, at the very corner of the wall. That charge – it felt like a network station.

In a prison? The guards might have had one I hadn’t seen on the way in, but why put it so close to the prisoners’ cells they could conceivably use it to escape? In fact, I was fairly sure it overlapped, which insinuated it was partly built into the wall.

I moved my hands over the area, feeling it out. My burst of excitement proved short-lived; only a small sliver reached into my cell in a gentle curve. Not enough to activate the nodes I assumed would be on the other side.

“I found something,” I exclaimed, keeping my tone as hushed as I could as curiosity overrode my earlier anger.

“It begins,” Ipoh remarked – a little smugly, I thought. “And faster than even I expected.” It might have been my imagination that the last part was delivered with less of the smugness, and more of a mild hint of concern. “I didn’t hear any knocks from you. What is it?”

“A station on the network, but only the edge.”

A muffled exclamation sounded from the other cell. “You don’t know anything about anything, but you know about that?”

“Yes. It’s how I got here.”

“Storm and blood. Keep that to yourself. Only the Ancients can use the Network, and your average citizen isn’t even aware it exists.”

I cleared my throat slightly. “This time I know you’re lying,” I declared with confidence. “There’s one in the middle of the canyon. It came with a dedicated building. It doesn’t even have a door.”

“You dear, terrifyingly ignorant infant. That’s a church. They build them around relics like those. ‘Relics’ being the operative word. Whichever Ancient built the travel network did so many hundreds of years ago, if not longer. When your entire clientele consists of ten people dying and losing their memories, it’s unsurprising the message becomes distorted. Those of us with a disposition to magic can tell they house power, but can’t use them. They make nice symbols, but that’s all.” There was a pause. “Unless you happen to be one of ten very specific troublemakers.”

I ran my hand through the edge of the station to confirm to myself it was still there. Questions were building up in my head and needed to be triaged. “So why is there one partway through the wall of my prison cell?”

“There are two answers to that question,” Ipoh answered. “The first – and correct – answer is that the prison would have been built over it. Every last measure of the planet has been occupied and reoccupied many layers deep. Building on ruins is unavoidable. Your kin have been at this for many thousands of years and will continue for many thousands more. Or until we all die of one cataclysm too many.”

“And the second?”

“The second, equally-correct answer is that you put it there. Your promise needed a means of resolution, and found one. Such is the power of the Ancients, for good or ill.”

“But that’s –” I struggled to find the right word, “– obscene.” All that power, answers for any problem with only a few words – it made the drawbacks fade like ghosts into the background. Someone with that power could… well, they could do anything.

“It’s what you are. The important question is, does it work?”

The question tugged me back to the moment. “I don’t know. I think I need to be standing on it. It has charge, I know that much.”

“Then there’s more to do. Keep at it.”