Pan wished they’d chosen a bigger room. They stood in a so-called safe room, barely more than a closet, off the main bay’s hall. At least, they had snacks if the ghost trapped them inside. Pan shot a suspicious look at a metal cabinet. A small window showed a selection of its offerings – all non-perishable goods in dull colors.

Pan bumped into Alban.

“I’m sorry. Were you using this space?” He pointed down at his shoes.

“Yes, but there’s only the one space. So, you’re forgiven.”

Rooks rolled her eyes. “Very funny. It’s a safe room, not a ballroom. I’m not traipsing through the ship with that thing.” She motioned to the coffin.

To be fair, the coffin took up most of the room’s space, as it insisted on its horizontal orientation. Black glass glinted under harsh lights. At least, Pan couldn’t see inside.

She rubbed her forehead. “First, I need to make a ward.”

“A ward?” Rooks’ brow furrowed.

Pan nodded. “The trap that I tried too late last time. It’s so the ghost doesn’t get free. Spirit ward. I put the ward in place. Then, I summon the ghost. Then, I make myself ghost seer.” Pan paused and frowned. She stared into the air and wondered where she should put the ward. She smiled and corrected herself, “No, first I make myself ghost seer. Then, the ward. Then, the summon.” Again, Pan frowned. She made a sound of frustration.

“What?” Alban asked.

“I better do the ward first. Because the ghost has been active. It could attack us…but, if I can’t see it, how will I know where to drop the ward?” Pan breathed out her exasperation.

She had to cast the ward to trap the ghost, or it would roam where it pleased. She had to see the ghost to set the ward. But, if she could see the ghost, it could attack her before she set the ward. Pan had a puzzle on her hands.

After a pause, Pan snapped her fingers. “New plan.”

“What is it?” Rooks’ eyes shifted around the room.

A light flickered.

Pan glanced at the ceiling and promised, “I’ll surprise you.”

She grabbed one arm from Rooks and one from Alban. Then, she cast the ward. It encircled them tightly. Pan left no pause. She cast the ghost sight circle. It engulfed her, Alban, and Rooks. It couldn’t be helped.

The ghost appeared before them. It waited on the edge of their ward and kept the runes lit. Its eyes were darkness. Its tentacled hair – shadows.

Pan cast a new ward around that spirit. It tried to flee, but she caught it fast. She cast the summoning circle just outside the second ward.

The ghost turned to her, suddenly attentive. “Very thorough.” Its form puffed in wisps and spots of smoke, giving the impression that rotting flesh flaked from its tentacles. Its dark eyes showed deep blue pinpricks of light.

“Thank you.” Pan let the first ward fade.

Alban and Rooks immediately backed up.

The ghost’s eyes darted to them.

“Sorry, but we have to talk again.” Pan brushed lint from her sleeve. “I don’t want a repeat of last time. Is there anything I can offer you that will make you cooperate?”

“I want to be buried.”

“Oh, good. How?”

“Send my body into the sun.” The ghost seemed to stare through the walls to Iruedim’s star.

Pan glanced at Alban. He frowned, but he didn’t tell her not to promise it.

“Alright. Your body in the sun. Now, you’ll tell me about the Volanter?” Pan folded her hands and waited.

The ghost roiled inside its ward. Shadows churned. Its eyes became pinpricks of red but faded quick, to a dull grey. Slowly, the smokey ghost settled. “Yes. Let’s get it over with.”

“Wonderful,” Pan said. “Now, tell us about the clans. We want names. We want details about their research. What kinds of circles are important to each group…And, if you know anything about how they fight, we want to know that too.”

“What a list. I assume they’re coming for you.” The ghost grinned.

Pan smiled. “Yes. They’re coming for us. I’d say it’s a great deal better than how they dealt with you. They didn’t love you enough to let you live your life. You were more valuable as a sacrifice. But, they’ll probably allow me to live mine.” Pan touched her chest and leaned close to the ward.

The smile disappeared from the Volanter’s face, and his mouth with it. His narrow eyes told Pan what emotion he held – anger. “You have destroyed the dual-ringed Bacchan. Iruedim has swallowed the mathematical and even-handed Blath. The fruitful Anther are missing, probably still. Or, are they?” The ghost trained his narrowed eyes on Pan.

Pan suppressed a shiver. “Tell me about the Anther.”

A small smile reappeared on the Volanter’s face. “The Anther believe we must speed up our reproductive cycle. They believe that passing down the genetic memory of the circles is an overwhelming and arduous task for a Volanter mother. They believe that should be changed. But, their focus is not on changing the circles themselves. Simply on specializing the population – a type of circle for each caster.”

Pan drew a sharp breath. She heard Alban stiffen, as all rustle of his clothing and his breath seemed to cease. Rooks still breathed.

“That’s my clan,” Pan said.

“You would know.” The ghost continued, “The Bract are the second most powerful among us. They believe that rings should be stacked. This method forms more complex symbols, as the rings are placed atop each other.” The ghost layered two spectral hands to illustrate the idea of two rings set one over the other. “The result is an efficient but difficult circle, too hard for most Volanter to cast. Harder than even the single rings.”

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“Just as strong?” Pan asked.

“Stronger but twice as tiring.”

Pan glanced at her ward. The runes held. Her gaze snapped back to the ghost. She gestured for him to continue. “Go on. The Blath and Anther can’t threaten us now. What’s left of the Bacchan hardly matters. Tell us who does matter.”

“The Rhizo are the largest clan of the Volanter. They study rotating rings.” The ghost’s figure waved, as if caught in a strong breeze. His shadows reformed into a shape less chaotic.

Pan bit her lip and looked at Rooks and Alban.

“Can you explain how rotating rings work?” Rooks asked.

The ghost stretched a tentacle from its shadowed mass and tapped the interior of the ward. Nothing budged. Its eyes met Rooks’. “The Rhizo believe a circle should be able to change in a moment. They believe in fast casting. Their casts consist of one, two, or three rings. Outside the rings, they save up runes. Just random symbols that appear outside the circle. Those runes can be pulled in and out of the circle, so long as the circle stays in motion – thus rotating rings. The cast is never completely finished. It’s tiring, but very quick.” The ghost moved its eyes from Rooks to Pan.

Pan averted hers and stared at the rings she held in action – her ward and the summoning circle. They required little effort because of her now instinctual experience with ghosts. The ghost sight ring was not visible, but it held sway over her as well, harder to dispel than even her familiar. No ring system would be too hard for Pan to power. No ring system would tire her.

“So rotating rings are the worst you have to offer?” Alban asked.

“Yes, I suppose, but you underestimate it. The speed of the cast and the shortened pause between circles is a strong advancement.” Fervor entered the ghost’s voice.

“Let me guess. You’re one of the Rhizo?” Alban crossed his arms.

The ghost bowed his head. “No. The rotating circle method takes training, practice, and good recall of the genetic memory. Rhizo almost lay sole claim to it, and most Rhizo use choreographed circles. A few Rhizo can do it without rehearsal. I am not one of them: Rhizo or otherwise talented in any way.”

Rooks held up a hand. “What is a weakness of the rotating circle method?”

The ghost raised his gaze. Again, he stretched a tentacle from the shadows and tapped the ward. The ward didn’t give, and he withdrew his tentacle. “With the caster immersed in the work, they must run through their circles before they can react to an opponent. It’s also easy to counter future casts as the runes hover on the edge and telegraph the plan.”

Pan stared back at Alban and Rooks. She saw both their eyes light up.

The ghost laughed, deep. “Don’t be excited. They cast three to four circles in the span of time that most cast one. And, their time between casts remains small as they determine which choreographed set to use next. They leave little time to counter, and their turnaround time is still fast.”

Alban raised an eyebrow. “We can find some way to make that work in our favor.”

“You think so? The Rhizo have defeated every last one of our methods, with their rotating rings…though the Blath were never tested against them. Or, the Anther.” The ghost’s eyes narrowed so much that Pan struggled to see any light inside.

“Is there anyone else?” Pan asked.

“The Stolon. They cast circles that have rays.”

Pan felt her eyebrows rise. “Rays?”

Rooks leaned forward.

For the third time, the ghost extended a tentacle and touched the ward. For the third time, its efforts failed. It sighed. “A series of runes make up a rayed circle’s main ring. The runes are simple but many. From the most complex of the runes, extend more runes – in lines – rays.” The ghost again seemed to blow in a strong breeze. “What is the appeal of this method? I do not know. They have yet to demonstrate any advantage, but the circles are pleasing to look at.”

Alban laughed. “Decorative magic.”

The ghost grinned. Its mouth stretched from ear to ear – if Volanter had ears. They didn’t. They had ear holes.

Even Rooks wore a small smile. “Can you tell us what strengths the Blath hoped to create with their circles?”

The ghost cocked its head. “You should know. The Blath hoped to create complex circle-work, with multiple effects written into a circle, as well as putting more of the work into the circle itself. The Blath method allows for relatively quick casting and a defense against tiring, as the circle itself carries the brunt of the work.” The ghost regarded Pan. “You have good stamina, as good as some of our best casters.”

Pan looked again at her ward. “Well, thanks.”

“Sometimes, a few well-placed circles are the best strategy.” The ghost’s eyes went white. “There are other small clans. Their cast methods range from simple rings, with runes linked by strings, to spiraling circles. But, it is the Rhizo you must be most wary of.”

Pan saw the calm white in his eyes and felt he was ready to go. “I think that’s enough,” she told Rooks and Alban.

“Getting tired?” Rooks asked.

Pan shook her head. The ghost scoffed.

Alban smiled. To Rooks, he said, “She might not treat you or I with the most courtesy, but she has the utmost respect for ghosts.”

Rooks studied Pan. “Alright, he can go, but I don’t think we can put him into the star yet.”

The ghost’s eyes flared red, and Pan watched her runes soak up the color.

“What the hell did you say that for?” Alban asked.

“He deserves to know,” Rooks said.

Inside the ward, the ghost began to storm. “Ungrateful…”

Pan raised both her hands. “Why not stay around and watch the smug Rhizo be defeated. I don’t know where you’ll go when you die, but I know wherever that place is, you won’t have as good a view.”

The storm slowed. The ghost glared at Rooks but sent his eyes back to Pan. Pan thought he needed one last smidgen of unfinished business. Something to hold him, so that his existence wouldn’t be pain. He had his body, which he wished would be disposed of. Now, he had a show to watch too.

“You or them. Either defeat would be fine with me.”

Pan couldn’t help but smile. She nodded in the ghost’s direction. “What’s your name and clan? So, we can put it on your coffin.”

“Taraxacum. I’m of the Floret. We don’t have a strong unified research effort. We pick and choose from the other clans.”

Pan nodded. “Seems sensible. Goodbye for now.”

Pan and Rooks waited in the hall. Alban headed to the bathroom in one of those rare moments that a man had to use it more than the women he walked with.

Pan looked down to avoid the glare of Fauchard’s strong overhead lights but found a row of floor lights in her new view. Pan made a quiet sound of disgust. She had nowhere to look, except at Rooks’ face. She raised her gaze to Rooks’ and stared.

Rooks raised her eyebrows. She had curly hair, held up by pins. Pan’s eyes traced the shape. That was a good way to draw hair – to draw the overall shape before the strands.

Rooks cleared her throat.

Pan drew a long breath and was just about to ask Rooks to excuse her from the military meeting. She didn’t see any reason why she should be there.

“Pan,” Aria said.

Pan jumped. “Aria…what happened to the pie?”

Aria smiled sadly. “I wasn’t allowed to take any of the rations because I’m not officially on the mission.”

Pan’s shoulders slumped. “That stinks.”

“What ingredients do you need?” Rooks asked.

Aria’s eyes grew a little wider. “I need some kind of flour, broth, meat, vegetables.”

Rooks nodded along. “You can take some from our stores.”

Alban rejoined them. “They won’t feed you, Aria? You have to beg food from Curator Wren and the Fauchard? I’ll talk to them.”

Aria bowed her head. “Thanks, but you don’t have to.”

Alban was about to respond when a man called him from down the hall.

Rooks’ brow furrowed in concern. “You can still take from Fauchard’s stores. I hope they’ll make sure you get your share of rations.”

“I’ll make sure she does,” Pan said.

Alban stalked away. He didn’t remember to ask Pan along. Her mischievous soul began to rejoice.

“Alban’s getting friendly,” Aria said.

“Huh.” Pan looked at Rooks to find the same confusion on the Curator’s face.

“His aura is making strings towards yours.” Aria stared after Alban, and her eyes traced a thread that no one else could see.

Rooks’ face filled with shock and a little horror. She waved a hand. “No, no…”

Pan shook her head. “It’s no good. First, he’s friendly. Then, he’s friendlier. Then, he’s friendliest, and I’m sure you can imagine what happens at that part.” Pan could. Friendliest was where she found herself with Sotir.

Rooks laughed awkwardly. “I don’t think I have that little choice.”

Aria smiled her widest, purest smile in a long while.