Glim crouched on the patch of solid floor and tried not to vomit. Images of the tiny handhold of stone in the cave flashed through his mind. He recalled the ravens circling far below in the clouds. Muscheron chicane clogging his senses.

Several minutes later, which felt like a lifetime, the platform came to rest at the bottom. Glim leapt from it in relief.

Ryn beckoned him over to a massive metal box that rose over his head, which hummed and sparkled with indicator lights. It had all sorts of buttons and knobs, and slots for rune plugs.

“There’s way too much for me to explain. For now, look here. The vent port. It will send the steam out the side into that chamber over there. This right here is the test panel. Move these two rune plugs here, and the vent port will open. The steam will go into the vent chamber and then outside.”

“What will happen to whatever this pipe was powering before?”

“Now you’re thinking,” she said. “I don’t know. But I do know these test panels were made for this, so I don’t worry about it. So my proposal is, we put the crab in there, steam it until it turns pink, and eat it.”

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you.”

Ryn sighed. “One of the best meals of my life.”

Glim walked over to the vent chamber, which had a large brass wheel in the door and a round window.

“Just turn it until the door opens.” He tried to turn the wheel, but it didn’t budge. “Come on, Glim! Put your back into it.”

He tried again. The wheel loosened, then began to turn. He opened the chamber, which was the size of a small room and smelled like damp weeds.

Ryn walked in with the crab and posed it in the center of the floor.

“Come on, let’s cook this thing.” She slammed the door and turned the wheel until it stopped moving. “Press here,” she said, indicating a button next to the door. “If that light turns on, the chamber is sealed. If this light starts blinking, you have a problem.” She pressed the button and a light winked to life. Ryn clapped and hopped with glee.

She walked over to the control panel and pulled out the two runeplugs: one for phyr, one for algidon.

“Cover your ears. This will be a bit loud.”

Ryn placed the runeplugs into the test slots. Above them, pipes started vibrating. Ryn clapped her hands over her ears.

Glim followed her lead. Through his palms he heard an intense screaming sound. Heat washed over his face. He looked up in alarm and saw jets of steam streaming into the air. They ceased immediately, followed by a loud vibration which he felt as much as heard. That too faded.

Ryn unclamped her ears and Glim dropped his hands.

“Now we wait,” she said.

They sat in silence. Ryn paced the room.

“Should I sing you a lullaby?” Glim teased.

“Ooh! I love songs. Do you know one?”

“Um… no. No one has ever sung me a lullaby.”

Ryn seemed saddened by that news. “Let’s fix that, then.”

Before Glim could head the awkwardness off with his favorite deflection technique—sarcasm—Ryn stopped pacing and started to sing. To his surprise, Glim found himself transfixed by her voice. He stared at her, the woman in a simple gray tunic, itchy wool cloak, and floppy felt hat, with stained hands and stoic face. Not one he’d ever guess to be a songstress, especially not of this caliber; Ryn’s words hung in the air, suspended, like gossamer wings taking flight. Or plunged like an ink-black sky scattered with stars.

In times agone,

engirdled in sea,

there strove alone

essentiæ three.

The mothers planted

an esurient quean

tween babe and beldam

bereft of mien.

An arrow certain.

An arrow puissant.

The quiver unburdened.

A breath avaunt.

Collogue to brabble,

the one broke trine.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

The clew unraveled.

The arrows entwined.

Certes leaven,

fire drown,

a breath sweven

all embrown.

When her song ended, Ryn sat down across from him. Glim stared, open mouthed.

“What?” she asked, brushing her hair back self-consciously.

“That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.”

Ryn flushed. “My people find my voice coarse.”

“They must be deaf. Or idiots.”

She smiled. “They are neither.”

“What does it mean? The song?”

“Ancient nonsense. Half of those words aren’t even words anymore.” Ryn stood up, breaking the spell her song had cast on him. “Well, it’s about time for dinner!”

She pulled the test plugs and replaced them in the panel. Glim clamped his hands over his ears but Ryn shook her head.

“This isn’t as loud. Let’s find some hammers while we wait for the chamber to clear.”

“Hammers?”

“You’ll soon see.”

She went to a smooth wall and pressed. A hinged panel opened. Inside, all manner of calipers, instruments, and tools hung in labeled slots. Glim whistled in awe. “There’s a fortune in here!”

“And also, hammers.” She handed him a brass mallet, then skipped over to the vent chamber. Impatiently spinning the wheel, she urged him to stand off to the side, then swung the door open. Residual steam billowed from the door, which she crouched behind.

“You’re supposed to wait longer. But I don’t want to overcook the crab. Oh, this looks perfect!”

Glim glanced past her at the crab, which had turned from a dark orangey blue to bright pink. Steam wafted from its joints.

Ryn picked it up and ran from the chamber. “Hot, hot, hot,” she said, tossing it onto the floor. She waved her arms around. Glim took her hands in his and made a pile of ice, which she rubbed gratefully.

“Now do you eat this?” Glim asked dubiously.

“This is the fun part!”

Ryn took one of the sword-tipped legs and bent it backwards with a loud crack. She set it on the ground and smashed it with her mallet. A shower of pink shell shards flew into the air. Ryn pulled out a white, rubbery strand of crab meat, blew on it to cool it, then popped it into her mouth. Her eyes rolled back and she closed them, groaning in bliss.

His curiosity piqued, Glim grabbed one of the legs and cracked it open. He closed his eyes to protect them from the carnage. He held up a soft chunk of the white flesh and tasted it. It seemed salty and sweet, so he bit into it. His mind blossomed with flavors he’d never experienced, and had no names for. The delicate morsel of crab meat had a perfect texture. He immediately craved more.

“See?” Ryn said as her hammer fell again. The mid-leg split open and she pried it apart, scooping out a larger portion. “Sooo good!” she said around a mouth full.

The two fell upon the snowcrab with gusto, pounding and prying and snapping the armor apart. “Only eat the white part. If it’s brown or yellow, it’s poison.”

“Poison?”

“Not like it’ll kill you, it’ll just make you sick. And it tastes bad. Oh, and don’t cut yourself,” she warned. “These shell shards will slice your finger right to the bone if you aren’t careful.”

“Oh, now you tell me,” Glim said.

“Looks like you’re doing just fine,” she said. She set down her mallet and started to laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“You are. You look like a horse sneezed all over you.”

“You’re one to talk. You have pink splinters in your hair.”

“You look like you’ve never had a solid meal before. Are you going to fight me over that claw?”

“I’ve been avoiding it. I don’t know how to eat that.”

“Vigorously. Here, we’ll split it.”

By the time they’d sated themselves, they still hadn’t eaten the whole thing. Two legs remained. Ryn looked at one, in a food coma, and set it back down. She lay on the floor and sighed. Glim flopped down beside her.

They savored the moment. Glim had never felt so full in his life. Nor so guilt-free for eating until he was full. In The Living Tomb, such a bounty was unheard of. Not even the merchants would gorge themselves like this.

Glim rolled over and looked at Ryn, who turned her head at looked back at him.

“Well, Ryn, I caught our supper. What’s for dessert?” Glim asked.

She stared at him, offended for the briefest moment. Glim saw it and laughed in triumph. Ryn caught onto the joke, and her face lit up. They laughed so hard neither could comfortably draw breath.

They lay together a while longer, then Ryn sat up. She held up the remaining crab legs, as long as her own arms, and sighed. “It’s a shame for these to go to waste.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Glim said. He set them down and concentrated. A thick layer of ice coated the leftovers. “These should be fine for tomorrow. By the time they’re thawed we’ll be hungry again.”

Ryn squealed in delight. “That’s wonderful!”

She looked at him with eyes he could not read. Ryn was generally difficult to figure out. But sometimes, as in this unguarded moment, she expressed things he could not fathom, but that made him quiver deep inside. Some warning, or anticipation, or unrest he could not name. Somehow, when she revealed herself to him, Glim felt even more unsettled. He wondered again at all the unanswered questions. Where she had come from. Why she cared if he left Wohn-Grab. Why she was helping him.

But Glim had learned one thing for sure about Ryn. Which is that he’d never learn all the things about Ryn.