{Gait}

The white void opened up and blanketed the entire city. Pehton learned later it covered the whole of Gait. She stepped around herself, frozen in the memory. Young, sheltered, the Pehton of two and a half million years ago screamed with tears streaming down her face. Blind, she couldn’t see. Couldn’t watch. Watch them be taken away.

“Peh Peh.”

Present Pehton closed her scalding eyes. Never come at Razor from a place of anger. Not until—

“I know the news from Earth is startling. But I’m concerned about your expectations. I’d hate to see you hurt.”

Bastard.

Gait’s Executive Warden exited the booth, not with the force of her voice or the siren of her Gale. No. She held her chin high and her shoulders back. But damn, she could only think of setting this den ablaze.

The evenness of her own voice impressed her. “Thanks for the session. I’ll begin the assignment this—” A flash of short auburn hair on the mezzanine momentarily distracted her. “New employee?”

Brown ice glazed over Razor’s eyes as he considered her. Her gaze didn’t follow as he captured her black hand in his brown one. “You work too hard.” He pressed irritatingly soft lips to her wrist’s pulse point.

It wasn’t sexual, and it became a frequent occurrence. He measured her vitals this way to judge if the memory diving damaged her. Wouldn’t want to harm his favorite prison informant.

Sick of her own bullshit, Pehton withdrew her hand. “I’m late to fulfill our arrangement. Be careful with the human.” She nodded to the young man upstairs. “The Progeny look after their people like family.”

He looked up at the mezzanine, watching the human inventory the wares. The Pain Curator’s voice dropped an octave, “I’ll keep that in mind.” She hated when he did that shit.

Pehton made it halfway to the door before he called after her. She stopped, refusing to face him lest he see the raw loathing in her eyes.

“I look forward to your report.”

The job. What counts.

The Executive Warden repeated her mantra as she descended into Infernus. She’d yet to decide how to punish Korac for betraying her kindness. Or even what to do about it. No precedent for Seamswalking existed. In truth, she hardly blamed Sagan for this. The young, impulsive woman missed her lover. But the ancient Icarean General knew better.

Empty cell. Not an Icarus in sight. Though, truly, someone redecorated. New sheets—white, of course. Some even draped from the ceiling, affording them privacy from the security recordings. Weights from Pil. A bench. Books. Clothes. A locked trunk.

But no Korac.

“Remember our arrangement.”

She didn’t look at the source of that elegant cadence as he walked toward her from opposite end of the hall. Hard not to notice the resonance of well-made boots on the metal floors. “Our arrangement implied you left the cell of your own ability. Not a certain Progeny woman.”

“Ah, so you figured it out.” He stopped a few feet away. “She’s quite… tenacious. I can’t begin to describe my prosperity in her.”

Prosperity was one word for it, the lucky son of a—

“But she’s not the cause. If I left it to her, I’d be liberated from Gait, entirely.”

Pehton turned to him then. Korac leaned his side casually against the wall. Skin tight leather pants and a black silk button down. The man fidgeted with his nails. Recently manicured. Were his feet perfect, too?

Elden, damn him. “You’re costing me security interest with Infernus block. You’re risking my station—”

“Sketchbook.”

The Lyrik recoiled. “Pardon?”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Provide me with a sketchbook and other art supplies, and I will stay in my cell. I’ll ask Sagan to practice some discretion. Though, surely you know by now I don’t presume control over her.” “Outside the bedroom” hung in the air.

Pehton was tired of men asking things from her when she wanted nothing in this life more than—

“Let me back in, Executive Warden.”

In her momentary spiral, she didn’t notice Korac step up to his cell. He waited patiently and measured her with a weighty gaze.

Pehton let him in and avoided his eyes. “Stay put, General.” She stared at the floor, exhausted. It took a sheer force of will to ask, “Has Sagan updated you on the state of Earth and Cinder in the last twenty-four hours?”

“No. I haven’t seen her in thirty-four hours and twenty-eight minutes.”

Resisting a startled reaction took something out of Pehton. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I researched your file extensively. You were found on Gait.”

He nodded, his eyes searching her as if he calculated how these things corresponded to Earth.

“Are you familiar with a phenomenon that occurred on your last day here?”

Korac narrowed his pale eyes at her. “What happened on Earth, Executive Warden?”

“Inanis.”

He bolted away from the nacre shield and shoved a hand in his hair. “How many?”

“What—”

“How many were taken?”

So he remembered.

“None.”

He regained his composure with his back to her, but Pehton couldn’t wait. “Why were you the only child that wasn’t taken that day?”

Korac glanced over his shoulder. “We don’t even know they were taken. For all we know, they disappeared or died.”

“No!” Her voice rang through the block.

He turned as if finding her insistence interesting.

“All eight million, three hundred thousand children on Gait were taken. Except you.” Pehton knew this. She knew so strongly that her body trembled with the certainty.

“Executive Warden, I need to know what happened on Earth.” He scanned her with intelligence before offering, “Then I will tell you what I understand of Inanis.”

Pehton told him of the coordinated attacks. “Most recovered, but a few were hospitalized. The Seamswalker was unharmed. Reports even placed her at Razor’s Emporium.”

A flick of his gaze was the only indication of his concern.

Seizing the opportunity to dig at the Pain Curator, Pehton pressed, “She’s provided him a sample of her pain and assured him she’d return tomorrow for her first experience.”

Korac looked completely away. His jaw clenched. “About Inanis?”

Right. Business. “Can you tell me what you remember of that day?”

“After two and a half million years, would you believe it was hazy?”

Pehton leaned back against the wall opposite his cell. “Try.”

“I was with other children. We worked together—”

“This was before the changes to labor legislation?”

“Yes. We worked in the prison.”

She frowned at him, but he blazed on, “They took us out to the yard. We didn’t know why. Hell, I didn’t even recognize the people that led us outside. I remember… It snowed. A blizzard that blanketed the yard. Our blood was so bright…”

Pehton glanced away, unwilling to press for those details.

Korac shook his head. “I can’t remember much before the light. It seared our eyes. I think I passed out because I remember waking up to a man standing over me. The other children were gone.”

“A man?”

“I couldn’t see his face. Everything was blurry.” The Icarean General rubbed the back of his neck and stretched. “Anything else?”

“You experienced Inanis one other time in your life—”

“How do you know about that?”

“We executed one survivor here years later. He said you invaded Thailea with King Nox.” She glanced at the floor, imagining seeing through the tiles to the big cell. “Can you tell me about it?”

“Sure, Executive Warden. We ‘invaded.’ The moment we stepped foot on the planet, Inanis blinded us. The others fell unconscious. I was… less affected and harnessed that opportunity to guard my King until he awakened.” Korac also glanced at the floor.

Did he know?

Pehton shook her head, losing the distraction. “So, you don’t recall that either? You need to get your nacre checked.”

“Maybe I do.”

It was like talking to stone. Carved, attractive alabaster. “Your encounter on Thailea was the last known emergence of Inanis until yesterday.”

Korac shook his head. “No. Rayne. Her eyes… It’s a similar effect.”

“I agree. But I don’t believe the source is the same. I believe the source was present at all three instances. And I think you can help me narrow it down.”

“Executive Warden, I’m a war criminal. Remember? Convicted and serving my sentence. Why would you trust me? And, since we’re getting so personal here, why is this so important to you?” He narrowed his gaze at her again and stared as if he weighed her heart in his eyes.

“A terrible event blighted my planet.”

“Before you were Executive.”

“It affects my peace of mind.”

Korac’s lips twisted into his trademark devilish smirk. “Trust me with anything but your peace of mind.”

Pehton pushed off the wall and approached the shield close enough to smell the peppermint on his breath. She searched his eyes beyond the mischievous humor. Beyond the warrior. She wanted to find the lost boy inside.

This was important. More so than he could imagine. She needed to trust someone. “Will you help me?”

Korac considered her question. He scanned her again. What sort of picture did she make? The Executive Warden begging for help from her prisoner. One that hid behind so much ice.

“Inanis endangers Sagan. I’ll investigate your unsolved case until she’s safe.”

Pehton allowed relief to wash over her. She even sighed, looked to the ceiling, and thanked Elden.

He watched every second of it.

“I’ll return in two days, and we can start.” The Lyrik turned her back on her prisoner and went to the lift.

Before it took her upstairs, Korac called after, “Executive Warden?”

“Yes, Korac?”

“My sketchbook?”

Between the relief and maybe her first break in two and a half million years, laughter burst from Pehton. Bright. Happy. Hopeful.

“Granted, General.”