Antiphon

you do not aid me, Lord Tam. My task cannot be accomplished without your assistance.”

“Then trust me. There is no Order to support you. There is no Pope to offer Holy Unction. You are aware of this?”

“Yes.”

“And you are self-aware. You have a name. Obadiah, yes?”

“Yes.”

“You are capable of making choices outside of your scripting, Obadiah?”

The mechoservitor was silent for a moment. Finally, it spoke. “I am.”

“Then choose to trust me.”

It hung its head, and when it looked up, there were tears welling in its eyes. “But the dream is clear on this matter: You are not to be trusted.”

Vlad sat back and blinked. “Me?”

“Your kind.”

He glanced around the room and made a quick decision. “Everyone out,” he said. “I want to be alone with it.”

He watched the surprise register on the faces. As they slowly shuffled toward the door, he caught the sleeve of Ren’s shirt. “Stay nearby. I’ll summon you.”

He waited in silence for a minute after they left. Then, he edged his stool closer to the mechoservitor. “Trust is an earned commodity not easily accrued in these times,” he said. “So I am going to trust you, Obadiah, and hope that you, in turn, will trust me.” He waited until the mechanical stopped clacking, processing his words, and then continued. “The only reason I found you was because the d’jin we follow took us to you. If she hadn’t, you would be lost at sea, nonfunctional, and whatever this antiphon is that you speak of would surely have failed. Do you concur?”

“I concur.”

“You are adept at mathematics and probabilities. What are the chances of another sunstone-powered vessel finding you in the Ghosting Crests?” When the mechanical started clicking and clacking to work the equation, Vlad raised a hand. “I do not need the exact number. Would you concur that it is highly improbable?”

“Yes,” Obadiah said. “I concur.”

Even as he painted the image for the metal man, Vlad began to see it for himself. She had known. She had brought him to the metal man’s rescue, but it did not appear to be her only destination. Each night, even since they’d brought the metal man aboard, she’d appeared to guide them farther southeast. Something still waited for them out in the waters where none dared sail.

“I do not know why she brought me to you,” Vlad said, “but I believe she intended us to find you. Even still, she leads us southeast and-”

The mechoservitor looked up. “You sail for the Moon Wizard’s Ladder.” He started to tremble again. “The light-bearer is calling you into the dream.”

Light-bearer? Vlad had never heard the term before. But he’d heard of the Moon Wizard’s Ladder from the mythology of the Old World. He’d certainly heard stories as a boy about the Year of the Falling Moon and the ladder that the first Wizard King had used to return and avenge the kidnap of his daughters, establishing the firm but just reign by blood magick in the now desolate lands north of them. He thought of the ghost in the water, and his heart swelled for her, aching in its intensity, in his need to follow her.

Vlad forced his attention back to the mechoservitor. “Calling me into what dream?”

“The dream we serve to save the light,” Obadiah said, his voice reedy and low. He clicked and whirred for a minute, as if calculating how much trust to extend. “The dream compels us. It requires a response.”

Yes. Like the ghost in the water. Compulsion to follow, expressed by an intense love. “The antiphon,” Vlad said.

Slowly, the mechoservitor nodded.

Then it opened its mouth and sang. The metal voice rose in the metal room, and Vlad Li Tam felt the hair on his arms and neck lift. In that moment, he felt a connection to something he had never felt before. The song was all around him, wrapping him like the warm sea, his scars burning from the salt. Light pulsed and undulated, tendrils waving to him.

“I know this song. She sings it to me.”

The mechoservitor stopped singing abruptly and fixed his eyes on him. “Lord Tam, you have heard the dream. You are my brother. The light-bearer chose you. The antiphon is nearly complete. We must clear the Moon Wizard’s Ladder or the antiphon will fail and the light will be lost.”

Vlad Li Tam stood slowly.

Yes my love, he told his ghost.

“Yes,” Vlad Li Tam said to his metal brother, his cheeks wet from tears he did not know he cried.

He could still hear the song beneath his skin.

Winters

Winters moved through the new-fallen snow, her feet carrying her once more along a familiar pathway. Behind her, her two constant companions followed at an appropriate distance.

She’d dreamed for three nights straight now, and it startled her how much the dream had changed. Now, metal men and numbers and white towers overlooking placid oceans filled her. And those skies, that world that hung above them, were the ones she’d seen in the Homeseeker’s dream. She knew they were connected just as she knew the song was what made it different now.

And then there was Neb.

She blinked, her eyes suddenly full of water. She could not see him, but she could hear him screaming somewhere far away. Or at least she thought it was him. Still, she’d written those parts down, too, even the words he cried out with such agony, though they were in a language she did not know.

From those nights, she’d amassed quite a stack of parchments. She carried them now in her copy of the Y’Zirite gospel, carefully folded in between the pages.

She climbed the slight incline and paused at the top, looking across to the closed entrance to her throne room. Garyt stood by it. When she was certain it was him, she continued walking.

Her hands moved quickly even as she hoped the fading sunlight was enough for him to see it. I am dreaming again, she signed. I must add the new pages to the Book.

He inclined his head slightly. I will find a way to add them for you, my queen.

She returned his nod and followed the trail down to the river clearing. When she reached it, she saw Jin Li Tam waiting. She stood straight, staring out over the river, hands on the handles of her knives. Her hair was pulled back and tied with a leather cord, and for a moment, Winters thought she was looking at a girl, not the ruthless, formidable forty-second daughter of Vlad Li Tam.

Winters approached. “I’m here,” she said.

Jin Li Tam looked at her. She nodded to her hands. “Why did you bring that?”

She looked down, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks and ears. She still held the Gospel of Ahm Y’Zir. I need to say something, she thought. She looked around, then leaned closer and lowered her voice. “I am dreaming again.”

Twice now she’d said it, and it frightened her both times. After so long without the dreams, she’d finally accepted that it must be some strange anomaly. They’d been her constant companion for as long as she could remember, and then the dreams were gone. As if a door had been slammed shut.

And now, suddenly it was flung open.

Jin’s eyebrows arched. “The ones you dreamed with Neb?”

She nodded and shivered. He’d screamed so loudly. “Yes, but different now. There are mechoservitors in my dream now.” She paused, feeling that sudden rush of water again to her eyes. “And I think someone is hurting Neb, but I can’t be sure.” She continued at Jin’s concerned look. “I think I hear him screaming.”

Jin looked over her shoulder, keeping her voice low. “We should dance now. We’re being watched.”

Winters started to turn, realized she was doing it, and stopped. She looked around the clearing, found a stump and brushed the snow from it. Then, she put down the book and shrugged out of her fur coat.