“For all the fanfare lancers receive around the galaxy, you’ll find little of it within the Order itself. They have their decorum, sure, but you’ll find most lancers are keenly aware of how little time they have.”

—Investigative Journalist Kina Fin Noida in her writings after visiting the Order of Riiva

Zaina blinked, then looked around in disbelief. “Wait—what? That’s it?”

“Yes,” Berest said. “Why? Did you expect more?”

“Kind of, yeah. It was a whole thing getting here, I don’t know—there’s not even, like, a ritual or something?”

Berest chuckled, then gave a weak cough. After catching his breath, he said, “Many generations of lancers have I inducted into this sacred order—I have a good feeling about this one.”

There were audible grumbles amongst the antler-tree’s gallery of scholars. Zaina wanted to see the expression on Elest Vae’s face but didn’t want to take her focus off High Scholar Valdian.

Berest bowed his head and said, “Now, that is where my part in this ends. I am sure you feel there is much for which you need to atone; I would agree with the sentiment. This is your chance to do exactly that. Best of luck to you, child.”

Zaina smiled at him, unsure if he was able to see it or not. “Thank you, High Scholar. I won’t let you down.”

From atop the tree, Ardo Nash called out, “Now, would the Scholar of Mentorship kindly step down to give this new inductee her assignment?”

A throat cleared, and another hover-bed detached from the tree. A familiar voice said, “Well, well, well.” The bed-pod of Elest Vae descended. On his face was the nastiest grin she’d ever seen.

Why does he have it out for me so—oh, yeah.

Zaina’s mouth pulled into a frown as Elest floated closer.

“As Scholar Suprema of Mentorship, it’s my sacred duty to ensure the Order’s interests are upheld at all times. While I disagree with the lapse in judgment on the part of the Honorable Scholar Suprema of Induction, I still must abide by his judgment. And you, Zaina, must abide by mine.”

The last thing she needed was to insult him, no matter how badly she wanted to, so she jammed her lips shut, deciding to play along.

He continued, “I already have the perfect mentor in mind for you—yes, you’ll learn well under her tutelage.”

She wanted to ask who it was—would she be learning from a scholar or a fellow lancer? It was eating her up inside, but she held her tongue. She refused to show any emotion. Elest gave a frustrated sigh.

Venom laced his words as Elest said, “You will meet your mentor soon enough. I’ve said all I need to say on the matter. Legally, you will be allowed back onto Gir’s ship to recover your personal effects before it’s repurposed. I’ll send an aide to meet you with further instructions once I’ve drawn up the paperwork.”

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Visibly muttering under his breath, Elest Vae’s hover-bed slunk back to the antler-tree and reattached. Ardo Nash took the floor once more. “Well, it appears we’ve discussed all matters which required our attention. Unless there is anything else—”

“Wait!” Zaina stepped forward. There was something she had to ask.

Nash’s eyebrow raised as he turned toward her. “Of course this meeting should end on yet another interruption. Yes, young Zaina, what is it?”

“What about Gizmo?”

“Gizmo? Who?”

“Gir’s glyph,” Zaina replied. “What’s going to happen to it?”

Nash thought for a moment. “Oh, yes. The one that’s constantly malfunctioning, right? It’s scheduled for a wipe and an update, and then it will be assigned to a new lancer. Such is protocol.”

Zaina’s heart sank. They were going to wipe Gizmo—the only thing she had left from Gir. That didn’t sit right with her at all. “No! Please don’t wipe him. I’ll take him.”

An annoyed frown crossed Nash’s face, visible through his thick beard. “Such things are not for you to decide, young Zaina.”

“Please,” she said. “The little guy meant a lot to Gir, and Gir meant a lot to it. I want to do right by Gir, and it’s not right that his friend forgets him.”

Nash sighed. “I’m afraid the wipe and update are not negotiable, but I will try to have the glyph assigned to you after that is complete. Is that acceptable?”

The minor concession wasn’t satisfactory, but Zaina knew better than to push her luck. “Yes. Thank you, High Scholar.”

With that, Ardo dismissed the Suprema Assembly. The High Scholars departed, some rushing off in protest with Vae while others took their time.

Good riddance, she thought as Vae’s hover-bed disappeared beneath the flat surface atop the golden dome. That went better than she ever expected—despite the guilt still clinging to her heart for everything she’d done and the bitter aftertaste of Gizmo losing his memories, it felt good to have a chance to effect positive change in the galaxy. Her fresh start was about to begin.

Zaina turned to the Cytomoid and asked, “So, how do I get back to the ship?”

He turned to her and blinked. Then, he pivoted and walked away. Zaina ran to catch up with him.

“Geez, what’s the hurry?” she asked. “Trying to leave me behind?”

No response.

Zaina sighed. “Not even going to introduce yourself? We have quite the journey ahead of us. Plus, now I’m one of you.”

The Cytomoid shuddered but kept up its pace. Zaina gave up trying to communicate. They made their way out of the Celestial Sanctuary in silence, returning the way they came. A ship awaited outside, just beyond the edge of the hovering mass of earth. Both of them boarded without a word and flew back up to the harbor.

Zaina stared out the window, making out as many details about Kaado as possible—the different islands were fascinating. There were farm islands where families worked—it could have been Zaina on Demelia in a different life; islands with pastures for beasts of the land and smaller islands flashing with the lights of lancer magick. Some floating bits of land had entire towns built atop them.

Despite her wonderment, the awkward vibe still hung over her and the Cytomoid. She wondered if he even understood her. He had to, right? Didn’t everyone get the same education across the Synatorium?

Finally, they landed. The oppressive awkwardness followed them as they strode to the ship. Once they were there, the Cytomoid unbound her and then turned to leave.

“Thank you,” Zaina shouted after him—one last attempt to get him to say something.

He flinched and stopped. Without turning, he said in plain common, “Silence, heretic.”

Then, he walked off. The words struck like an electric shock. A stunned Zaina was left to fume.

“Well, to hell with you, too,” she said under her breath. She refused to give people like him or Elest any of her energy by dwelling on their opinions. With a shake of her head, she hopped to getting her belongings off the ship.

Gizmo was already gone, as was Drel Ofrans’s coffin. Most of what she owned was conveniently packed into a bag, so it took no time at all. Zaina sat atop the ship’s canopy, waiting for the order’s messenger. Finally, her life had a purpose. No matter how many obstacles she had to overcome, she was going to be a lancer—one of the mystical heroes her father told her about when they were huddled close to the fire on winter nights.