The rain here wasn’t nearly as bad as a storm back home. Just a quick wash of cold water. The sprinkle lasted less than a minute, though they soon passed through another one. He guessed that those omnipresent clouds made for near-constant scattered showers in this dark zone.

“This place is quite spectacular,” he said to Auxiliary. “Sun constantly driving forward, vaporizing all of this.” He glanced at the dash in front of him, which had a compass as one of the readings. That required him to reorient how he’d been viewing this all. “Sun rises in the west here, behind us. Chasing us, vaporizing everything in its path, superheating water in a flash. We don’t dare get too far ahead, lest we reach the sunlight again. So ahead of us, in the east, the planet rotates and plunges everything into sudden darkness. I’ll bet this storm here is the aftermath of that, created at sunset by sudden cooling of all that superheated water.”

Indeed, the knight replies to his squire’s strange rambling. It’s been a long while since we’ve been on a planet with a persistent storm. Remind you of home?

“In all the wrong ways,” Nomad said. “The weather pattern doesn’t make sense, considering the heat on the other side. I’m no meteorologist, but my gut tells me this entire planet should be a vortex of unlivable misery.”

The hovercycle had consoles with lights to let the driver know what she was doing, so they weren’t completely blind. But there weren’t headlights on the thing, and the lack of even a token canopy or roof made him think that people didn’t fly these things into the darkness often.

That made sense. This woman’s force attacked a clearly more dangerous power on a rescue mission. He seemed to have joined some sort of guerrilla force—one that hid in the darkness others feared to enter. A small nation of raiders, perhaps?

But how had their people been taken in the first place? And if they were consistently doing this kind of work, why hadn’t they altered their ships to fly in the rain without soaking themselves?

So he walked back his assumptions, returning to what he knew for certain, then worked forward again. Thinking methodically, logically. That part of him remained, the part that had pushed for evidence and statistics even when his friends had laughed. He was still the same person all these years later. Just as a hunk of metal was technically the same substance after being forged into an axe.

They’re not raiders, he decided. They’re refugees. They were attacked by that larger group, then they went into hiding. Now they’ve dared strike back to rescue their friends.

A working theory only, but it felt right. What he couldn’t figure out was why they’d kidnapped an ember person. To experiment on, or perhaps …

I’m an idiot, he thought, looking at the driver and noting her dark black braid, woven with silver, resting over her shoulder. The shape of her youthful features mirrored those of the woman tied up behind them, both bearing light green eyes, of a shade that might have marked them as nobility back on his homeworld.

The ember woman was a family member. Probably an older sister, based on their relative ages. He should have seen it earlier. These people had been attacked, captives taken, and some of them had been subjected to terrible torment. The driver next to him had rescued one. Dangerous business, judging by how the ember woman continued to struggle and growl, the light from her chest glowing bloodred in the darkness.

But who was he to judge? He was just here to steal a ship, then find a power source strong enough to get him off this planet. Though first, he figured he’d let the driver feed him and give him something to drink for saving her hide.

He felt the Connection happening as they soared farther into the darkness. But the confirmation came as the woman spoke on her radio. “Beacon?” she said. “This is an outrider, requesting signal alignment.”

“Rebeke?” a man’s voice asked. “Rebeke Salvage, that you?”

“If it is agreeable,” she said, “it is me. Code for admittance is thankfulness thirteen.”

“Good to hear your voice, girl,” the man replied, the words nearly lost to Nomad in the howl of the wind. “Is Divinity with you?”

Rebeke’s voice caught as she replied. “No. He fell.”

Silence through the line. Finally the man continued, “May his soul find its way home, Rebeke. I’m sorry.”

“My brother chose this risk,” she said, tears mixing with the rain on her cheeks. “As did I.”

Nomad glanced toward her across the fuselage. This Rebeke looked young to him suddenly. Barely into her twenties, perhaps. Maybe it was the tears.

“Zeal,” Rebeke said. “I’m … bringing someone. If it pleases you to respond with temperance, I would appreciate it.”

“Someone?” the man, Zeal, said. “Rebeke … is that why you fell behind? Did you go for your sister, explicitly against the will and guidance of the Greater Good?”

“Yes,” Rebeke whispered.

“She’s dangerous! She’s one of them.”

“We exist because of Elegy,” Rebeke snapped, voice growing stronger. “She led us. She inspired us. I couldn’t leave her, Zeal. She’s no danger to us as long as she remains bound. And maybe … maybe we can help her …”

“We’ll talk about this when you return,” Zeal replied. “Signal to Beacon has been granted. But Rebeke … this was reckless of you.”

“I know.” She glanced at Nomad, who was making a great show of leaning back, eyes closed, pretending he didn’t understand. “I’ve got someone else too. A … captive?”

“You sound uncertain.”

“I rescued him from the Cinder King,” she said. “But something’s wrong with him. He can’t speak right. I think he might be slow in the head.”

“Is he dangerous?”

“Maybe?” she said. “He helped Thomos, who I missed spotting in the grass. Tell his family I have him. But before that, this stranger pretended to be a killer to get me to free him, then wasn’t much use in the fighting.”

Not much use?

Not much use?

He’d brought down two enemy ships without even being able to fight back. He forced himself not to respond, but Damnation. Was she lying or … Well, she hadn’t seen him back there. But she’d noticed him carrying a rifle after the other ships vanished. Where did she think he’d gotten that?

Have you noticed the names? the knight asks curiously.

“Elegy,” Nomad said in Alethi. “Divinity. Zeal. Yeah, I did notice. Do you think …”

Threnodites, the knight replies, modestly confident in his wise assessment. An entire offshoot culture. Didn’t expect that. Did you?

“No, but I should have,” he said. “The clothing is similar. Wonder how long ago they diverged?”

Did you guess that the captive was this woman’s sister?

“That I did pick out,” he said, thoughtful. “Threnodites. Don’t they … persist when they’re killed?”

They turn into shades under the right circumstances, the hero explains to his dull-minded valet, who really should remember almost being eaten by one.

“Right,” he said. “Green eyes, then red when they want to feed. Complete lack of memories. I feel like we would have seen those already. Shades come out in the darkness, and we’ve been in nothing but darkness since getting here.”

Perhaps this group split off before the Shard’s death—and the event’s aftereffects—took them.

Nomad nodded thoughtfully. The persistent clouds of this region—without even the rings glowing in the sky to orient him—felt more pernicious now. As if he were soaring through space itself, with nothing below or above. Eternal darkness. Perhaps populated only by the spirits of the dead.

He was pleased, then, when some fires appeared up ahead—the light of blazing engines underneath a city. In this dark, rain-filled landscape with misty showers and tall black hillsides, they had to be practically upon the place before it became visible. It seemed smaller than the large city he’d left behind, and didn’t leave as much of a trail on the ground from its engines—and what it did leave probably washed away in this rain. All things considered, it was well hidden in here, even with those blazing engines.

Rebeke flew the hovercycle up to the agglomeration and locked it into place at the side of the city—the place known as Beacon, he assumed. Despite its name, it was running impressively dark. He spotted a few lights here and there, but only small ones, always soft red. The engines underneath would be masked so long as they stayed low and let the hills and rain shield them.

He didn’t get a good sense of Beacon’s size, though the easy way their hovercycle settled in and became just another part of its structure made him think it probably had the same architecture as the platform he’d been on before. A few people waited for them in the blowing drizzle, lit by the deep red hand-lantern carried by the lead man, who was tall, stern, and dour. Nomad pegged him immediately as the man named Zeal, the one Rebeke had spoken to on the radio.

He was surprised, then, when Zeal’s voice instead came from the mouth of the very short man standing to the side. Not even four feet tall, the small man had a normal-sized head, but shorter arms and legs than your average person. His eyes were a dark brown, like Nomad’s own.

“Rebeke,” Zeal said. “What you’ve done is dangerous.”

“More dangerous than Elegy’s plan?” she said. “Did you recover it, Zeal?”

Instead of responding, he thoughtfully studied Nomad. “Is this the stranger? What is his name?”

“I was not graced with such information,” Rebeke said. “He doesn’t seem able to understand the words I speak. As if … he doesn’t know language.”

Zeal made a few motions with his hands, gesturing at his ears, then tapping his palms together. He thought maybe Nomad was deaf? A reasonable guess, Nomad supposed. No one else on this planet had tried that approach.

Nomad spoke to him in Alethi, acting confused and gesturing while he talked.

Zeal and the tall man moved to help Thomos, the gap-toothed man. The poor fellow was listing again, semiconscious and mumbling, held in his seat by only his belt. At Zeal’s orders, several others rushed him off, presumably for medical attention.

“Take good care of him,” Nomad said in Alethi.

“What is that gibberish?” the taller man said, raising his lantern. The fellow was so thin and so tall that with the lantern raised, he kind of resembled a lamppost. Especially in that long black raincoat.

“He frequently makes such noises,” Rebeke said.

“Curious,” the tall man replied.

Zeal looked toward the locked-in hovercycle, then approached slowly. The tall man joined him, as did Rebeke, all three standing and staring at the ember woman tied in the back, growling.

“Elegy,” Zeal said. “Elegy, it’s us.”

This provoked only more growling. Zeal sighed. “Come. We must petition to the Greater Good and supplicate them for your sake. Adonalsium-Will-Remember-Our-Plight-Eventually, please see to her the best you can.”

The tall man nodded.

Wait. His name was Adonalsium-Will-Remember-Our-Plight-Eventually? That was the best one Nomad had heard yet. He really needed to keep a list of these Threnodite names.

“Oh,” Zeal added, “and find quarters for Rebeke’s guest, if you would, Adonalsium-Will-Remember-Our-Plight-Eventually. Grant unto him one of the ships without local access controls, if it pleases you to do this task. He looks as if he would savor a bath and a bed.”

Zeal and Rebeke started off together down the street, and Zeal turned on a red flashlight to lead the way. A bed and a bath did sound good, but knowing what was going on here sounded better. So Nomad started off after them.

Naturally Adonalsium-Will-Remember-Our-Plight-Eventually hastened over to take his arm and gently tried to lead him away. Nomad smiled calmly, then pried his hand off and continued. When the man tried harder, Nomad yanked free more forcefully.

It was belligerent, yes. Maybe a great way to get into trouble. Perhaps they’d attack him, and he’d have an excuse to steal that hovercycle. He probably should have just done that, but … well, he was feeling charitable. So he simply marched after the other two, tailed by a nervous Adonalsium-Will-Remember-Our-Plight-Eventually.

Rebeke and Zeal entered a building—well, a ship with a larger structure on the deck. Nomad stepped in after them, not letting the door close. He saw it was a dimly lit small antechamber with plain flat-black walls. Adonalsium-Will-Remember-Our-Plight-Eventually crowded in after him.

“My greatest repentance, Zeal,” the tall man said, chagrined. “He just … won’t go with me.”

“Maybe we should present him to the Greater Good,” Rebeke said. “It could be agreeable to them to see him, and perchance they might know what manner of person he is.”

“It is agreeable to me,” Zeal replied after brief consideration. “You can trust him to us, Adonalsium-Will-Remember-Our-Plight-Eventually.”

“What if he’s dangerous?” the tall man whispered. “Rebeke said … he might be a killer.”

“Those bracers on his wrists,” Zeal said. “Presumably the Cinder King hasn’t yet had a chance to reset them. I think we shall be well.”

Nomad had almost forgotten the bracers he was still wearing. He managed to keep from looking down at them as they were mentioned. This all but confirmed his earlier assumption that these people had been able to disable the ember people with some kind of hack or system exploit in the bracers.

Adonalsium-Will-Remember-Our-Plight-Eventually left to deal with the chained-up woman, Elegy, and Rebeke pushed open a door at the far end of the antechamber and led them into a properly lit hallway. The contrast was briefly blinding, though the electric lights in the ceiling were set relatively low.

There were no windows, of course. That small antechamber had been a lightlock. Meant to keep people from spilling the building’s light out onto the street, allowing them to keep moving invisibly in this darkness. A quick glance showed him that the wall and door separating them from the lightlock was made of a less sturdy wooden material, while the floor and ceiling were metal. That antechamber had been added recently.

Yes, they were almost certainly a people who’d only recently gone on the run, hiding in this deeper darkness beneath the clouds.

He joined the other two in crossing the hallway, and didn’t miss that Zeal kept a close eye on him—hand in his pocket, perhaps ready to control the bracers and freeze Nomad again. They led him into a room at the end of the hallway, and he entered, eager to meet the ones they called the Greater Good.

They turned out to be three elderly women.