Despite Delgha’s optimism and the secret floor plan, nothing happens.

The machine refuses them again and again. It takes them another day, but at least they finally figure out why.

Delgha is holding up something that is crumpled and smashed. “I think I know at least one reason why it’s not doing what we want it to.”

It’s missing a working fist. Not a fist, really. But a part that looks like a fist, and since no one in this whole world has seen this kind of device before, Aviend imagines that no one else has given it a name. So she is naming it now and forever.

“Can we fix it?” Aviend can hammer pieces together if she has to, but Delgha’s the one that machines love. They practically beg her to take them apart and put them back together. If Delgha can’t fix it…

Delgha turns the broken piece around between her hands. “This is… I haven’t seen this tech before. The structure is broken and I think I could fix that with the right replacements. But it would have to be something strong and straight and sharp…” She falls silent, studying the device.

“Do you have that? Something like that?”

Delgha is already lost to the inner workings of the device. Metal in each hand. Her face about an inch away from the metal and synth and… whatever else it’s made of. “No,” she says. “We’d need to find it somewhere. Maybe Thorme knows someone.”

“Aviend,” Kyre says. “What about the relic? By the clearing? With the…” He pantomimes the long thin bits of material.

“Tomorrow’s Death?” Thorme asks. “I remember that relic. Is it even still there?”

They both turn to stare at her a long moment. She pointedly ignores their unspoken questions. Thorme is always a mystery.

Finally, Aviend finds words. “I didn’t know that’s what it was called, but I approve,” she says. “We walked by it on our way to the clearing the other day. It’s where we saw…” She doesn’t finish. Delgha knows who she means.

“I bet you can’t go very far in the Stere without running into his glaives or his destriatch these days.”

That hangs in the air a moment. No one says anything.

“It’s only, what, an hour’s run? Without pilgrim packs,” Kyre says. “In and out.”

“I’ll go,” Aviend says before anyone else can volunteer. “Everyone else has a job at the moment except me. And I’m faster than the rest of you.” She sees Kyre about to say something. “Yes, even you. I can be back in an hour. Hour and a half tops, at full speed.”

Plus, she realizes, she wants to go. Maybe needs it. She’s been trapped here, and as much as she loves it here, she’s feeling trapped. Caught. Stuck here with memories and feelings that she’s pushing away every moment. It’s exhausting. For once in her life, she actually wants to run. Find a challenge that doesn’t involve an insufferable metal machine.

“It’s risky,” Delgha says.

“What isn’t?” she says.

“She’ll be fine,” Kyre says. “It’s the right choice.”

She presses her fingers to his lips. Her grin feels huge and goofy, and she doesn’t care one bit.

“What was that for?”

“Everything,” she says. And she means it.