Lapis dropped the yeller and slapped her hands over her ears, eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched, as intense pain streaked through her brain. Patch cursed and did the same, wincing.

Sanna shrieked again, longer, harsher. She shoved her fingers into her ear canal to deaden the sound even more, but it vibrated her chest and she struggled to suck in air.

The echo bounced off the stonework of the building, fading as it did so, until only the crackle of the buzz wall and heavy, squeaky breathing from the defenders remained.

“The trees muffled too much.” Ghost halted behind Sanna, facing the lane.

Muffled? Lapis glared at him; from their vantage point, no muting was involved, and the ringing in her ears proved it.

“What did they do to these khentauree? They sound damaged.” His fury washed over the defensive group, and everyone twitched at the guttural hate.

This was the side of Ghost Lapis saw in Ambercaast, the one intent on protecting those in his care and willing to do incredibly nasty things to ensure their safety. Terror ripened, and she fought to smash it. Ghost would not harm her, and she knew that. The instinctual tingling coursing through her body, demanding she run away, did not.

“See, I told  . . . you . . .” The butler whisked outside with imperious fury, then drooped as he stared at the two khentauree. Behind him, an angry Meinrad and irritated Rambart froze, eyes wide, staring at the mechanical beings as if they had been dumped in the Stone Streets during the warmer parts of year and smelled the Pit in all its fetid glory.

Chiddle landed in front of them, and they stumbled back, fear etched onto their faces. Just behind them Perben stood, lips pursed in sour disgust. Had he lost his wonderkin status with the two older men, that they listened to a butler over him?

The khentuaree’s attention swiveled to the yard. “Lanth, you must come with us. You created precedent by claiming to be a siscousige, they will listen when they see you with khentauree who are not mutilated.”

His buzzy growl on the last word terrified her as much as Ghost’s tone did, but she grabbed his hand and he pulled her to her feet. His anger was for their enemy, not her, but convincing her body to believe it was a far different tale.

“Are you sure about that?” Patch asked, tense. “The military ones didn’t seem to care.”

“I will protect her,” Ghost said. “Nothing will pass my sprites.”

She snagged the yeller, kissed her love, threaded her arm through Chiddle’s, and swung into place on his back. She wrapped her arms around his waist and held tight, thinking they would jump over the sparking lightning. They did, by leaping onto the stone wall above the window nearest the final connector and pushing off. They soared over without difficulty and landed with dainty steps.

Why had the attacking khentauree not done something similar? Another indication, they followed their commander’s words to the letter, rather than straying outside them. She bet that frustrated him, especially if he had a limited vocabulary and no understanding of what he shouted at them.

More tiny spheres whirled around them, creating a shield of blurred white lines. Lapis’s heart beat in her throat; she had witnessed him take out Red Tridents at Ambercaast, but she wondered at their effectiveness against khentauree. Squishy, bleedy human was not a mechanical being with a chassis designed for combat.

She was too impulsive. She should have said no.

The barrage stopped, and they headed for the lane. When they passed, the other khentauree rose and trotted to the center of the yard, where they clustered together. Ghost or Sanna must have issued an order, and they followed it.

“They run,” Sanna muttered.

“Who does?” Lapis asked, looking over her shoulder at the grouping before the shredded trees interfered with her line of sight. Her voice quivered, and she fought for calm, because she doubted the enemy khentauree would listen to a leader with unsteady words. Chiddle patted her arm, and she sagged at his sympathy.

“The forest-bound khentauree,” Sanna said. “Those too afraid to enter conflict despite commands. They flee into shadows that fail to hide them.”

“Where are the two military ones? They were right outside the buzz wall—”

The Ambercaast khentauree leapt to the side in unison as cyan reflected off the white shield, taking out small twigs and one larger branch above them. Minute spheres broke away and sped into the trees, leaving flakes of smashed wood to drift slowly to the cold ground.

The cyan disappeared, and so, too, did the glowing spheres.

“Sere sewurmedseed, for, aned fru oors rere,” Ghost commanded. While spoken in an even kilter, she felt the words deep in her chest, and the dread they triggered tickled along her legs and neck and raised the hair on her arms. Chiddle cupped her hands in one of his, and she hated, that he needed to comfort her. She knew Ghost would not harm her, but however many times she reminded herself of that, she could not shake the fear skittering across her brain and body at the sound of his voice.

A dozen khentauree with matching torsos and chassis and a dozen more with mismatched ones stepped from the tree shadows, hands folded across their chests, shoulders raised, heads bowed. Were there more? How enormous was that vehicle, to carry so many mechanical beings? They were not small machines, and sending those numbers to attack the mansion was overkill. Someone did not want support, someone wanted a slaughter to scare others into following them. But why choose Meinrad and Rambart? They were not important court dignitaries whose support or death could make or break a potential new king.

“Why do they plead?” Sanna asked. “You did not threaten them.”

“It speaks ill of the humans who programmed them.” Ghost swiveled his head completely around, the center of his forehead gleaming bright white.

“They don’t look like fighters, but workers,” Lapis whispered.

“All base khentauree programming has military commands embedded within,” he said. “At our core, we are military, and those who know can exploit that. We are lucky, whoever puppets them knows little beyond a few memorized commands.” He focused on her. “They listen, but not all follow.” He buzzed, and the khentauree turned and hustled down the lane to the yard. “The not-all concern me.”

“There are more of them?”

“Yes, and there is something broken about them,” Sanna told her. “It may be corrupted memory, it may be their heads do not match their torsos or their chassis. Some chassis and torsos were designed for exchanges. I can attach to a deer chassis, Chiddle to a bull chassis.”

“A bull chassis?”

“Meergevenis created many they refused to sell outside the military. I have not met those with other configurations, but we know of them. It is part of the base programming. That is how I know, these military khentauree wear a chassis they should not. We are lucky, it inhibits their overall function, but they compensate.”

“So they’re unpredictable.”

“They are predictable,” Ghost disagreed. “It is which choice they make from the limited options we must guess at.”

Which made them unpredictable, right?

“Ghost, do they know why they were sent here?” Lapis asked.

Quiet descended, then he swiveled his head to her. “Two replayed what they heard, for they do not understand the words. Sanna sent them an update to their language module. She issued a wide call; more than those we’ve encountered accepted.”

“If they install Jilvaynan, will they listen to orders given in that language?”

“Yes. Whether they obey is another question. The recordings speak of a boss who instructed them to infiltrate the mansion. They know ex-rebels reside there. There is nothing else related to this incursion.”

“And they were ordered to fight?”

More silence. “Yes. Most woke attached to foreign bodies and ordered to follow the boss’s commands, whether suited to battle or not. They struggle, since much of their programming is not original, but confusing, contradictory. Someone modded them poorly. This may explain why they feel broken. Sanna, wait for Jhor. He can rework the code.”

She swiveled her head but did not press. Good. The modder could hook them up to a machine and mod them without endangering her.

Ghost took the lead, the sprites leaving a glowing trail as they spun faster around them. His chassis gleamed as if he walked in filtered sunlight that softened his appearance. Lapis swore where the glow touched, warmth flowed from it. Her left side heated while her right, which remained in Chiddle’s shadow, did not. She pulled her right hand behind his back; cool rushed to fill the warmth void.

She needed to talk to Jhor and Sanna about Ghost, because asking him directly would make her feel odd.

Chiddle held out his hand and his shimmery spear appeared in it. They must sense the not-all khentauree, and she could not detect them. Night shadows hid wobbly transparency, so unless the military ones entered brighter light, she had no hope of seeing them before they struck.

She did not see any humans, alive or dead, either. They must have retreated when the Swift shot at them.

“Is the vehicle still at the gate?”

“It is,” Ghost said. “The khentauree do not want to return to it, so I will not force them. But we must find a place to house them other than the House.”

The House already had too many untrusting khentauree who might harm humans to escape. They really needed to move everyone to Ambercaast; she bet Ghost had a place for them to stay.

“We will. What about the humans?”

“There are fifteen that face our humans, three hiding in the vehicle that brought the khentauree. There are two other transports, but they remain stationary with no one inside. Khentauree hide behind the vehicle. They say it is not operational.”

“The humans have modded weapons,” Chiddle said. “I have seen similar ones. The mine owners received a shipment of military-grade firearms, but someone tampered with their insides. They misfired often and sometimes exploded.”

“Fun times,” Lapis said. “I guess that makes sense. If you’re going to loot long-lost khentauree, you’re probably going to loot whatever else is with them. Tech weapons are a valuable resource in Jiy.”

“Humans change so little,” Ghost growled.

“And khentauree do?” Sanna asked.

His head swiveled to her, then back to the lane. “We change. Gedaavik saw to it.” He buzzed. “The bird picks up much.”

“What bird?” Lapis asked.

“The Jils sent a bird,” he said. “It explores beyond the mansion. Midir feared there would be more fighters, more battles, and sought to protect the people of Nacker, but it seems only these three vehicles, only these humans and khentauree, are here. They target no other.”

“So our enemy only targeted Meinrad’s mansion.” And she knew the perfect person to ask why.