Preparation was not Tuft’s strength, was it?

“Tuft!” Path shouted, far too late to alter his course.

“I shall scout with him. Speak to the khentauree, find out what info you can, and join us,” Chiddle said.

“Chiddle!” Path stamped her foot, but instead of answering her outrage, he leapt onto the stage, sped past Lapis, and whisked through the door. Light bloomed, silvery instead of cyan, so bubbles lit their way.

Path hissed, and the fine hairs raised on Lapis’s neck. She considered her a cheerful sort, but when her fiery anger descended, she commandeered Sanna’s strict fierceness. Patch bapped the being’s arm with the back of his hand, then pointed at the door with his weapon. “Lanth, go with Gera and Layne. Get Tuft and Chiddle to secure the stairs and then wait.” He gave her a hard look before turning his gaze to the theater khentauree. “We’ll catch up.”

Why did he assume she possessed any control over Tuft and his impromptu actions?

The Minq hefted themselves onto the stage and hustled to the back, the light beams from their helmets reflecting off old, rickety black metal pipes and odds and ends tangled in wiring hanging from the ceiling, some tied together to keep them clear of the doorway. Lapis followed them, her mind racing between her fear of darkness, what she could say to Tuft, and annoyance at her partner. She stared at the door wide enough for a heavy cart, swallowed, and hesitantly stepped over the threshold.

Rin almost knocked her over, then held up a handheld light with a sheepish grin. Her jolt of fear centered itself, so she forsook scolding him over his brashness as she punched it down into the quivering depths of her emotions. After steadying, she shuffled further inside, reluctant to find Tuft, reluctant to let the rat accompany them, then paused.

She had expected a narrow stairwell. While shallow stairs with rusted railings started just to the right of the door and ran down, the main walkway was a wide ramp covered in rough black carpet squares. The wall had black poofy padding, protecting it from wayward cart hits. Empty sconces with frosty, flowery shades lined the way, several with broken glass but no debris marred the floor. Between them sat paintings, some yellow with age, some brighter and not quite covering the darker square of the frame they replaced. One depicted the Jiy palace Dentheria built, something that happened long after their soldiers ransacked the theater, and the Undermarket, another place that did not exist during the theater’s run.

Everything seemed nice and tidy, except the carpet. Not only did concrete peek through in the center, the edges of the squares curled up, a tripping hazard. The bits and chunks she expected to litter the tiles were absent, cleaned away by industrious khentauree. Any mustiness hid under the citrus odor permeating the air, a tummy-twisting smell she hoped to never encounter again.

Whether because she walked in company, or because years had passed, she did not sense the deathly atmosphere Jabby experienced. Or had he thought the fruity scent reflected the stuff the Dentherions sprayed on the Pit to cover the stench of corpses? The thought nauseated her.

Tuft and Chiddle waited for them at the bottom where the carpet gave way to floorboards, and while their argument took place silently, it was obvious they had one. Lapis wanted to yell at them—they had entered a dark and dangerous place ill-prepared to meet the enemy. They could wait to snarl at each other until they navigated through unharmed and returned to the mansion.

Well, not so dark, she amended. Tuft’s bubbles glowed quite well. Was that not a huge tip-off to the enemy? She hurried to them, as squicked by the brightness as the darkness.

“Path says to wait,” Chiddle buzzed.

“The rest of our group is interrogating the theater khentauree,” Lapis said, her gaze flicking to a thin sheet of ice spanning the end of the ramp. It did not look strong enough to prevent an assault, so why create it? Did he form it to separate them from the machine standing to the left side?

It had a squat container and a hose that ended in a long pipe with a t-shaped head leaning against the wall. She expected damage, as the thing had sat in a hallway for centuries, but no grime, dust, cracks or broken parts marred it. What did they use it for? Or did they clean it, just like the khentauree at the Cloister watered the dead plants, for no purpose other than they were supposed to.

“Why?” Tuft asked, his snarly tone jerking her from her study. “They are useless voices blunted by Arox290.”

“Maybe, but what if they tell Patch and Path something we can use?” Her gaze remained glued to the hall beyond, searching for the wobbly air that meant an invisible being stalked them.

“LX70 will be more help.” His testiness died in an annoyed buzz as Chiddle swiveled his head to the hallway.

“That signal is similar to the anti-tech weapon the scientists used against us at Ambercaast,” the khentauree said. “But it fluctuates. It is not as effective as the khentauree assume.”

“It’s still interfering with our comms,” Gera said, straightening from her up-close inspection of the shield and tapping at her helmet. “I’m getting random static.”

“Yes. LX70 fades in and out.” Chiddle paused long enough for nerves to light more fires within Lapis. “She says they led her to an elevator that they took down to S3. The khentauree who imprisoned her turned it off, so we must take the stairs. She also says they argue; Arox290 left many khentauree on the upper two floors as combatants, and they think it should summon them from harm’s way.”

They did not know their etak had been captured? Or were there more, hiding from them on the balconies and in dark corners? Hopefully the Minq discovered them without violence.

“We will not harm them if they do not harm us,” Tuft replied with icy venom, crossing his arms, his hair flitting about his head with more vigor. “It is a simple choice.”

“They may not have a choice,” Lapis reminded him.

“Then we shall send them to silence.” Chiddle shrugged. “Path says Arox290 must have forbade them from speaking to her. They make no sound.”

“LX70 said they went down to S3? So there’s more than one basement?” Layne asked, in a far quieter voice as she shined her light into the hall and slowly moved it back and forth, touching on the dark entrances to doorless rooms.

“She has heard them speak of the theater, the office level, the khentauree level, and the console level. There is something more about the console level, but . . . LX70 has gone silent. Path fears it was not a purposeful silence.”

Had they harmed her? What did that mean for the humans tromping down with weapons drawn?

“I do not think any of the khentauree here are military,” Chiddle said slowly. “I believe Arox290 conscripted them for battle, when they are not meant for combat, only to guard.”

“So no invisible khentauree?” Lapis asked.

“Invisible khentauree?” Layne squawked in disbelief.

“It is how military khentauree sneak up to enemies,” Chiddle said. “But they also used it to sneak away, so siscousigi stopped using the equipment for any but those on the front lines. Khentauree sold to civilian markets had those features removed, but we should not assume they are all from the civilian markets.”

“Beetle chassis were military only,” Tuft said. Lapis’s tummy fell; how many others had the insect bodies?

“That was not a beetle chassis; that was a deer chassis poorly altered for six legs. Beetle chassis did not leave Meergevenis.”

“If they altered the chassis, why not the code?” she asked.

“It was not on the list,” Chiddle declared with unwarranted confidence.

Tuft cocked his head, then both looked at the door; the rest stepped through and walked down the ramp to them, weapons drawn, ready, with Dov bringing up the rear. The lights circling their forehead weapon spun fast enough to blur into one solid line, and she doubted it was for illumination.

“I will keep the light bright. If there are invisible khentauree, we will see them easier.” Tuft turned back to the hall. “The khentauree above cower. We should expect cowering from those we confront, but if Arox290 forces them to fight, do not hold back. It is better they break than us.” The ice shield dissolved, and he proceeded, the glowing bubbles trailing.

Lapis exchanged looks with the Minq and a subdued Rin, glanced back at the men, then fell in line behind Chiddle.

The floorboards echoed and creaked with each step they took, a mournful song to accompany them, but otherwise showed no signs of age. Only hinges remained of the doors that once blocked rooms from casual view; they shined lights into them, highlighting chairs, long clothes rods on wheels stuffed with time-faded items surprisingly clean of dust, and screens busy with theater characters. Two had “Lead” painted on a nondescript black sign slid into a holder, and two more had “Actors”; the interiors of all held mirrors that spanned the entire back wall.

Combined with cabinets and boxes, a khentauree had plenty of places to hide until they passed, then they could ambush them from behind.

Lapis looked back at Dov, but they walked confidently, their head slowly swiveling as they scanned the area. No khentauree hid in the rooms, then. She would have assumed a couple scouted the enemy, if nothing else.

Or Arox290 had another way; she noticed ice coating an object sitting in the joint between wall and ceiling. She studied the hall in front; the frozen stuff ensconced similar things above every door. Cameras, perhaps? The markweza used them to spy on workers at Ambercaast, and she bet the theater used the same method, as it once catered to royalty. Can’t let the obviously untrustworthy commoner get away with theft, after all.

She wasn’t certain how much it mattered; the theater khentauree must have already told Arox290 who and how many enemies walked into the depths. They would be ready for them.

Beyond the dressing and storage rooms stood offices. They had tables, cabinets, chairs, and broken tech screens on functional desks. A couple had light jackets and the rib remains of umbrellas hanging on coatracks, reminding her that when Dentheria invaded, the soldiers killed people in the middle of the workday. How many escaped with Jabby’s ancestor, and how many got left behind to suffer the empire’s wrath?

Unlike the train depot in Ambercaast, no skeletons lay where they fell. The theater khentauree must have removed them, but to where? Lapis hated the thought of stumbling upon a pile of bones down there, when her nerves already screamed at her about nasty things in dark places.

She should have declared her shoulder too injured for further late-night jaunts and stayed above ground. Should have, but if Patch joined the group, she refused to stay behind.

Rin snagged her hand, and she looked up at him. He managed a wane smile, but something bothered him. She squeezed tight and did not let go, guilt wracking her that she could not provide the comfort he needed when her own fear strangled her.

“I was expecting khentauree in the rooms,” Layne said, her voice not quite a whisper.

“When Arox290 told them to retreat, they headed to their perceived safety, which is not the easily accessed basement,” Tuft said. “Perhaps they cower on the khentauree level, as those above. Perhaps they ready for combat. We shall see.”

Lapis hated the matter-of-factness in his tone. She gazed over her shoulder; no human enjoyed it, either, though Dov appeared unaffected. Patch gave her a small, warm smile, before returning to cold, annoyed chaser.

“Path bound the khentauree,” Chiddle said, breaking the uneasy silence. “They attempted to rise and retreat. She ordered them to shut down and restrained them. Lanth, you must be ready to order khentauree to shut down. Even civilian units will listen to a human in command over Arox290. Their programming demands it.”

“Arox290 could have altered it,” Patch said. “Like you did, like the Cloisters and Shivers khentauree did.”

“I do not think it has.” Dov blared loud, cutting over their quieter voices. “It follows the list. Why would humans say to alter the code and give it ultimate command? They enjoy control, and that would rid them of it.”

“When has prescribed actions stopped khentauree from altering themselves?” Patch asked. “They have modified chassis. Why not programming?”

“Arox290 is a console, not a khentauree. It has different programming, and that programming is to follow the list.”

“It’s still deploying them as guards,” Lapis said. “Guards can harm us. Look what they did to the mercs.” However patchwork, the khentauree took out seasoned fighters and she had no evidence, like leaked sponoil, the mercs harmed them in turn.

“Yes, but the mercs attacked and they responded. That is what they have been programmed to do,” Tuft said. “Do not shoot, they will not respond.”

No guarantees, though, as her attack proved. Gera and Layne glanced at their weapons and Patch’s exasperated hmph fell into the sudden silence.

They reached the end of the hall. Two dented metal doors stood closed, a blank screen sitting above them flashing ‘S3’. A cement landing sat to its left, with metal stairs going up and down. Another corridor crossed it, the doorways on the opposite wall. Tuft sent lights down both ways, but no one noticed anything out of place.

A shiver ran up Lapis’s spine anyway.

Ice bloomed in the corner of the stairwell, encasing yet another object and the empty light casing next to it. Tuft stared at it then clipped inside the well, arms tight to his body to prevent them from brushing against the railing or the wall. What did he notice that she did not? No spiderwebs or grime coated them, and the citrus scent proved the theater khentauree had scrubbed it down.

Because he so carefully avoided a touch, Lapis released Rin’s hand, crossed her arms over her breast, and headed down after the two Minq. Her brother did the same without question.

Their shuffling footsteps continued the mournful song that filled the well, despite attempts at quiet. She noticed more ice in the corners, and the spread grew larger the further they went down; something triggered him, but what?

Heat increased with each step, and sweat trickled down her forehead, her neck, soaked her waist, her thighs, her knees, the discomfort scraping against her already tense unease. Stopping to strip her coat away was not an option, so she unbuttoned it half-way, wondering how they heated the stairwell. It seemed a waste. How hot was it on the sublevel floors?

The second landing had a caged tech light over the entrance door, wires running from it to a pipe on the ceiling. Ice sealed the push handle and the jambs, effectively locking it. The bottom led to an open doorway and a hall lit by the same white glowing tiles that littered the eastern Jiy underground. She noticed a crack or two, but most contained no damage, and no grime or dust coated them.

The citrus smell did, cloying enough to induce a queasy tummy. They could not have had that many boxes of cleaner stored from over two hundred years ago. Did they make their own? Plausible. The beetle khentauree had their chassis cobbled together and it functioned, so they worked with what they could find.

A loud, echoing clang and ensuing rumble rocked the hall. Beyond the first two panels, a thick door made from welded patches of metal slid from the wall. Tuft galloped for it; with a gasp, Lapis followed, racing to beat the closure. Patch yelled, the reverberation too strong to understand. Chiddle made it, Gera and Layne, her, Rin!

BANG.

NO! PATCH!

“You have made Patch very angry,” Chiddle said, focusing on Tuft. He had the ice khentauree’s shoulder in a grip he could not shake. “Dov says he shouts and shoots the door. They had to save him from the ricochet.”

“We will open it for them.”

“Dov says no. Gas issues from the tiles. They must retreat.”

The tiles? Lapis looked at the long, long hall, lined with the things. A soft series of clicks came from the walls and the squares sunk back. Ice shot from the floor to the ceiling, then expanded down the hall, blocking the nastiness from puffing into the air.

“And you wanted excitement,” Layne muttered, whapping Gera.

“Don’t blame this on me,” the Minq said, exasperated. She set her weapon over her shoulder and slammed her fist into the door. “We need to get out of here.”

“They will not expect us to have protections against the attack. Khentauree will come to retrieve us. We will not be here.” The icy khentauree slipped from Chiddle and entered the first dark door on the left, snuffing his lights as he did so. They followed, and Gera and Layne turned theirs down until everyone looked like a blur of shadow muddling around in an evening’s greyness. They wound around chairs and desks and sofas, each shuffling step raising the hair on Lapis’s neck. She pressed her fists into her stomach.

Rin was nice, but she needed Patch with her!

They walked for longer than she first anticipated that room being, the scent of citrus growing stronger, then Tuft pushed his chassis against a wood-paneled wall with a molded wainscoting beneath.

“Press against the wall,” he ordered. “Turn off your lights.”

Lapis planted her back against the barrier. Chiddle stared at Tuft, then deliberately did the same; the others huddled next to her, and all light vanished. Chill encompassed them, a refreshing touch.

Rin fumbled for her hand, and her death grip hurt, considering his quick intake of pained breath.

She closed her eyes, too aware of others breathing, her own rapid heartbeat pounding in her ears, the throbbing behind her lids. Rin laid his head against hers as chittering and buzzing overtook the other noises.

Gera sucked in a breath, which ended abruptly.

A flash of light penetrated her lids and she opened her eyes; she caught a silhouette as the yellow beam passed over them, focused on something to their left, then returned. Not once did it pause to study them.

Back and forth, back and forth, then it disappeared, and the buzzing increased in intensity even as it faded away.

A yellow beam, not a cyan one. What did that mean?

“This is a new ability?” Chiddle hummed after the last vestiges of light vanished. Lapis flinched at the unexpected voice, then relaxed; the theater khentauree had not found them. Yet.

“No. My ice reflects, like a two-way mirror. It lasts until the surface thaws.”

“It grows warmer.”

“They think to melt what I already froze. We must disable the cameras beyond my ice, or they will know our deception.”

Chiddle buzzed, shaking his head. “The halls are bright, and I see no way around using them.”

“Does it matter?” Lapis asked. “They can just scan and see us.”

“They cannot, or they would have noticed us,” Chiddle said. “Their mechanisms are inoperable. That is why they did not initially realize others arrived to help fallen comrades. It is why they rely on cameras rather than sensors.”

“Do you think that’s why they used a yellow light instead of a cyan one?”

“Yes. They run low on, or have run out of, aquatheerdaal. All we khentauree suffer the shortage. They are no different. Scans take precious power they cannot waste, so use other sources.”

“Do you think Arox290 does all the scanning, if the individual khentauree aren’t working as they once did?” Layne asked.

“If so, it failed to find us. We can work with this malfunction.”

Lapis knocked her head against the wall, not trusting the guesses, helplessness rising. A tapping came from one of the khentauree a moment later.

“This level is strange,” Chiddle murmured. “There is a military-style door blocking routes, but the rooms have walls of wood and drywall easily torn through.”

She tamped down on her shuddering unease and focused on the conversation, a needed distraction. “They probably didn’t have military anything down here until Dentheria threatened. The throne built a bunch of escape tunnels throughout this side of Jiy in response to what was happening in Ramira, so it makes sense a place the royal family entertained would have something to stop enemies from pursuing important targets. Even if soldiers tore through walls, that would take enough time, they could escape.”

“That’s true,” Layne said, “but I know of only one other place in Jiy that had similar doors, and that was the palace. Dentherions installed them for Gall’s father, so we’re not talking about old tech. Other parts of the city underground have relic barriers, but they’re in keeping with the average technology Jilvayna had at that time. If the king installed a door like that, it was not like the rest of the defenses. And you’d think he’d put it in the palace, not a theater.”

Had she forgotten about the Jils? Their headquarters hid behind more advanced tech than one might assume. Or had they gathered and employed newer Dentherion equipment?

“Them upstairs is cobbled together. Why not do the same fer a door?” Rin said. “Iffen they need to protect this place, they could come up with lots of ways that aren’t specifically on a list, if they’re followin’ one specific order.”

“That is in keeping with what we’ve seen so far,” Tuft admitted. “They make due with scraps, so perhaps they have more agency than I assumed. I will check the door. It is dark beyond.” Lapis felt the retreat of chill, and beads of sweat broke out on her brow and neck; too hot. They really wanted the ice to melt, didn’t they?

She knew when he returned; cold filtered over them, a wondrous reprieve. “More offices with cubicles,” he said. “It is clean.” He sounded offended.

“It is part of their programming,” Chiddle said.

“Just like the Cloisters khentauree watering dead plants.” Lapis would never forget that hint of literalness in the mechanical beings.

“It is not the same,” Tuft protested, even more deeply offended.

“It doesn’t matter,” Layne said. “Or, it doesn’t matter for the office. If they literally follow everything Arox290 tells them to do, we might have a battle on our hands later.”

“Dov has broken through your ice,” Chiddle said. “They are not happy you froze it so well.”

“We shall go.”

Chiddle’s buzzing laughter blending with the dainty clip of Tuft’s hooves.