Page 92 of Still the Sun

He nods. I give back my framed lantern to Salki and approach the stairs, shielding Frantess’s lantern with my hand. It seems impossibly bright in the gloom, but my eyes are not what they used to be. I listen, hearing only my own heartbeat and the hushed, quick breaths of the brave souls with me.

I gesture them forward, shielding the lantern so closely that I burn my hand as we ascend the stairs. As I peek over the second floor, I see my reflection in Machine Two’s discarded beryllium copper shielding. I quickly peer around the rest of the floor—empty. Despite the windows, it has the same thick shadow as the first floor, like the ghost of death has chosen this tower in which to lay his head.

Passing the lantern back to Amlynn, I remove my shoes and tiptoe to Heartwood’s room, pressing my ear to the door before pushing it open on its oiled hinges. The empty room mocks me, its window warning of every minute lost. Stepping away, I squint at the lift. I’m not positive, but I think it’s raised. Moseus must be in the tower above us.

Amlynn bites down on a squeak as Maglon brushes by her. I pass them and move to my room. The open door reveals the few belongings I left here. I motion Amlynn toward the ladder. She hesitates, so Balfid takes the lantern and, removing his shoes as well, slinks toward me, the light glinting off the whites of his eyes.

Light in hand, I climb, wincing when the fourth rung creaks under my weight. I’ve never tried to be quiet in this place, so I never noted itssounds. Still, I peer into the third floor, greeted by the same black mist. It’s loath to dissipate, even when I hold my lamp high.

“Heartwood?” I whisper, searching.

Machine Three glimmers in response. If Moseus damaged it as well, I can’t make it out from where I am, and I’m too frightened to step off the ladder.

Returning to the second floor, I gather the others around me. “Balfid, stay at the stairs. Be ready to relay a distress signal to Gethnen if we need it.” To the others, I quickly explain the lift and how it works. “It can take two at a time. I’ll go first. Salki, come with me.”

“I can come,” Maglon offers. I deeply appreciate his bravery, but I need Salki. “Come with Amlynn right after,” I tell him.

He nods. Salki shivers, so I take her hand, squeezing it tightly to reassure both of us. I approach the lift, the drum of my heart beating louder with each step.I’ll die either way,I tell myself, and it’s somehow comforting.I just have to save as many as I can before I do.

It’s a risk, but I can’t get to the fourth and fifth floors without the lift. I built it that way on purpose. So I call back the lift, knowing the motion and sound will alert Moseus. I lift Arthen’s knife as I step in, bending my knees, ready to spring. Salki, ever the good student, pulls the cord to direct the lift upward.

It moves too fast. My stomach flips inside out and lodges in my throat. The door opens onto Machine Four—

Intact. Dark. Empty, unless Moseus is hiding.

Swallowing, I direct Salki into the shadows, then wait and scan until the lift returns with Amlynn and Maglon. I snuff out my lantern. Blink a few times before slinking forward, skirting the walls, searching, listening. I walk under Machine Four, peering into its heart as though Moseus might be embedded within it, ready to drop on me like a spider. I reach the other side, pressing the knife into the darkened corners. No Moseus.

I curse deep in my throat and look up. Fifth floor, then.

I come around the machine. Amlynn holds the extinguished lantern. Maglon brandishes a long cooking knife in one hand and a pickaxe in the other. I gesture toward the tilted body of Machine Four and wait until I know he’s seen me. He murmurs something to Amlynn, perhaps telling her to be ready to pass along a distress call.

Throat tight and fingers slick, I climb Machine Four. I can’t see my handholds, but I’ve worked on the thing enough—Ibuiltit—that I find my way in the dark easily. It will be harder for the others. Hopefully they’re watching closely.

The silver curtain around Machine Five emits a soft, unbroken light. Good, it’s intact. I crouch, knife ready, listening. Someone climbs onto the base of Machine Four. I don’t pull my eyes away from the liquid mirror in front of me.

I climb off and creep into the third tier of the tower. Holding my breath, I move around the silver cascade, keeping my back to the wall. There’s little wiggle room around Machine Five, so it’s unlikely that Moseus has crouched back here, unless he’s run out of places to hide and is licking his—

White hair on the floor, strewn with braids.

“Heartwood!” I gasp, rushing toward him, throwing my tool bag to the side.

Serpent save me, he’s lyinginthe acetic silver, half in, half out, the liquid wall spilling across him diagonally from his chest to hip. Thinking of the way it burned him when he touched it—thinking of Cas’raneah’s blister—my mind floods with white-hot panic. I grab him under the shoulders and heave. He moves a couple of centimeters. He’s so damnably big—

Footsteps. “Maglon!” I hiss as tears blur my vision. “Help me move him!” Maglon comes around the other side of Machine Five, wary of the silver.

“Quickly,” I beg. “It won’t hurt you. Neither will he.”

Dropping to his knees, Maglon grabs one of Heartwood’s arms, and I take the other, pulling him toward the wall. Heartwood jerks to a stop, the silver seeping into the fabric around his calves.

“Chain,” Maglon says, pointing to something on his side. “He’s chained down.”

“Come here. Stand over him like this.” I get on my hands and toes and arch over Heartwood so the silver washes over me instead. Seeing that it doesn’t hurt me, Maglon takes a similar pose. Crawling under him, I drop my ear to Heartwood’s lips, feeling the lightest wisp of hindered breath. Relief chokes me, but he’s not safe yet. None of us is. Reaching the chain, I follow it to where it’s clasped above Heartwood’s knee. His pants are torn, and the iron cuff makes direct contact with his skin.

I don’t understand. Even dwindled as he is, even with his divinity leached, Heartwood is stronger than Moseus. He ripped apart Machine Three with his bare hands. How—

Then I smell it. Something earthy, slightly floral—

Oh gods.Chrystanus. It grows in the garden. Heartwood told me the roots were poisonous, even to his kind.

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