The Regal hummed to Derision. “The coward won’t be able to tell you much. If the Lady of Wishes is truly interested in this murderous human, she should wait until this evening for another report.”

“Why?”

“By then the Pursuer will have interrogated the human’s family,” the Regal said. “And will have exacted revenge for the death of our soldier.”

The rhythms went silent. Timbre, hidden deep within Venli’s gemheart, seemed to be holding her breath.

“We captured them, then?” Venli said.

“They’re locked in the clinic a short way from here,” the Regal said to Craving. “A surgeon, his wife, one child. We only now discovered they are the murderous human’s family. It’s a pity the Lady of Wishes has ordered us to be so tame during this occupation, but at least we’ll get a little blood tonight.”

Venli tried to hum to Conceit as she left, but found nothing. No rhythms at all—it was unnerving. She shoved the list of descriptions in her pocket, and as soon as she was a short way from the scout post she hissed, “What are you doing?”

Timbre pulsed, and the rhythms slowly returned. Venli relaxed. For a moment she’d worried something was wrong.

Timbre pulsed morosely. To her, something was wrong.

“I agree that it’s unfortunate about the Windrunner’s family,” Venli said. “But at the same time, their son was involved in killing one of our troops.”

Timbre pulsed again.

“I suppose they aren’t our troops,” Venli agreed. “But why do you care so much? Don’t you hate humans?”

That drew a sharp rebuke. Just because Timbre and the other Reachers had decided not to bond humans any longer, it didn’t mean she hated them. And killing someone’s family because they resisted? That was terrible. Many Fused wouldn’t take that step, but the Pursuer—and his troops … well, she’d heard the bloodthirst in that relayform’s rhythms.

Venli walked in silence, troubled. She had her own business to see to, her own problems. Yet Timbre continued to pulse softly, urging her. Venli had seen the Blackthorn once in a vision. The Bondsmith. He’d shown her kindness. And so many of the humans of this tower, they were just people trying to live their lives.

Eshonai would have done something.

“I’m a fraud, Timbre,” Venli whispered. “A fake Radiant. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Timbre pulsed. The meaning was clear.

I do.

It was enough. Venli turned and started down the steps, picking up speed as she went. There wasn’t much Venli could do directly to help the family. Her authority as Voice certainly wouldn’t extend to countering the will of the Pursuer.

Instead she made her way to the majestic atrium of the tower. This enormous opening far within the tower reminded her of the shaft that led to the basement—a circular breach in the stone. Only this was on a far grander scale, over a hundred feet wide. It stretched tall, high into the darkness above, and seemed to reach all the way to the very top.

Lifts ran up and down the inside of the atrium, though they needed Voidlight to work now. The far wall—pointed directly east—was not stone, but instead a flat glass window. Amazingly large, it showed snow-covered peaks and provided natural light to the entire atrium.

The lifts were barely in use, as the singers were focused on establishing control of the lower floors. To avoid alerting human Windrunner scouts, the shanay-im were forbidden from soaring around outside. They’d taken up residence here instead, within this grand hall, hovering in the open air. Venli used her authority to commandeer a lift, then made her way up to the fifteenth floor. Here she found Leshwi meditating with her long clothing drifting beneath her, with only two servants to see to her needs. She’d donated the others to Raboniel.

Leshwi noticed Venli immediately, cracking an eye. Venli sent the two servants away and hummed to Craving, standing patiently and waiting for her mistress to formally acknowledge her. Leshwi drifted over to the balcony and rested one hand on the railing.

Venli approached quickly, humming to Tribute.

“Why have you not approached in secret, as I explained?” Leshwi demanded.

Leshwi had set up a method for Venli to clandestinely deliver notes about Raboniel. Venli found the whole thing a baffling part of Fused politics. Raboniel knew that Venli was spying, and Leshwi knew that Raboniel knew, yet they both pretended the subterfuge was unknown.

“The Windrunner you wish to defeat is here in the tower,” Venli said, “and I have reason to believe he did not fall unconscious. In fact, he still has access to his powers.”

Leshwi hummed abruptly to Exultation. A telling choice.

“Where?” Leshwi said.

“He killed a soldier who was trying to collect the unconscious Radiants,” Venli said, “then escaped into the tower. He rescued one other Windrunner.”

“Honor propels him,” Leshwi said, “even now. Even after his god’s death. This is excellent news, Venli. You did well to break protocol to bring me this. Does the Pursuer know?”

“Yes, unfortunately.”

“Raboniel will let him ignore my prior claim,” Leshwi said. “He won’t even be reprimanded for it, so long as it is in service of hunting a fugitive. Poor Stormblessed. He has given them the spear by which to impale him. If I wish to fight him myself, I will need to locate him first.”

“And do you wish to fight him, Ancient One?” Venli asked. “Is that truly why you want to find him? To kill him?”

“Why would you ask this?” Leshwi asked to Craving.

Venli would have let it die at that, feeling foolish. But Timbre pulsed, nudging her.

“You seem to respect him,” Venli said.

Leshwi hummed softly, but Venli did not catch the rhythm. Odd. Her powers normally let her understand anything her mistress said or implied. There was something familiar about that rhythm though.

“It is rare to find a human who can fight in the skies well enough to be a challenge for me,” Leshwi said. “And his spren … I hear she is ancient.… But never mind that. You will not raise this matter with me again.”

Timbre pulsed, indicating Venli should tell her mistress. About them. About being Radiant.

Stupidity. Venli immediately shied back at the idea. Leshwi would kill her.

“Is there something else?” Leshwi said to Command.

“Stormblessed’s family is being held by the Pursuer’s guards,” Venli said. “They are on the sixth floor, in a clinic at the perimeter, near the main corridor. The Pursuer plans to interrogate them, and I fear it will turn ugly. Many of his troops are angry they were forbidden to kill during the incursion. They are … excitable.”

“Violent and bloodthirsty, you mean.”

“Yes, Ancient One. The … the family of the Windrunner would be an excellent resource for us, mistress. If you wish to find him before the Pursuer, then perhaps holding them would give us an advantage.”

Leshwi hummed to Thoughtfulness. “You are merciful, Venli. Do not reveal this Passion to others. Wait here.”

Leshwi pushed off and soared downward, doing a loop and turning gracefully into the lit central corridor on the sixth floor. Venli waited, Timbre pulsing in concern.