Hear and repeat and resound.
“It’s… it’s like a sound amplifier,” Zofia said, confused.
Why would the device need to amplify sound if the cave was silent?
“Let’s measure the lake and go back to the others,” said Laila. “I think Séverin will want to see this.”
Zofia dropped her satchels onto the ground, drawing out her measuring devices and a length of steel rope, Forged to retain a calibrated tensile strength at all times. She would need to lower the device into the water without losing it. As she assembled her instruments, she counted the things around her, steadying herself—seven rocks, four square-shaped, three roughly rounded; four stalactites directly above her; three rock shelves jutting from the cave wall on the right; zero rock shelves jutting from the cave wall on the left; three used matches lying beside her boot.
Zofia returned to her reading instruments, frowning as she translated the measurements. The lake was deep, but there appearedto be an obstruction running down the middle. Zofia was about to call out to the others when her torchlight roved over something pale and moving in the shallows of the lake: a skull, toppled onto its side.
Zofia yelped, skittering backwards.
“Zofia!” called Laila, rushing to her side. “Are you all right?”
Zofia stared into the water, goose bumps erupting over her skin.
Skeletons didn’t normally frighten her. To her, they were like machines devoid of use, their anima flown out of them and moved onto something else in the unseen equation and balancing of the world.
But the way it had seemed to rear up out of the dark had thrown her. There was something in the way it turned and listed to one side… Hela’s head had turned in an identical fashion on one of the evenings when her fever raged at its worst. Beneath her sister’s blond hair and gray eyes was a skull. It might alreadybeonly a skull.
Zofia had been able to push the unknown from her mind until now, but seeing that skull summoned her fear up close in her thoughts. She felt frozen by all the things she did not know, all the things that threatened to undo her calm. Was Hela safe? Would Laila live? What would happen to them?
“Zofia…” said Laila. “What’s wrong?”
Zofia pointed wordlessly at the skull.
“Oh,” said Laila. “Don’t be frightened… it’s nothing. We knew there were dead down here, remember? They can’t hurt us… and… and I’m sure they are not hurting either. They’re dead, after all.”
Zofia looked up at Laila. Her friend looked different. Zofia regarded her features: paler skin, sunken eyes. Laila smiled, which should mean that she was fine, but Zofia recognized that smile. Itwas forced and stretched, which meant it was a smile performed for her benefit.
Hela had worn the same smile many times.
Zofia’s gaze dropped to Laila’s hand on her arm. Blood ran down Laila’s arm from a gash just below her elbow.
“You’re bleeding,” said Zofia.
“What?”
Laila looked down at her arm, her brows pressed down, eyes widened. It was a look of horror, Zofia realized. Laila touched the cut on her arm, her fingers coming away black as machine oil and not the dark red of blood. Blood smelled like old coins and salt. Laila’s blood did not. It smelled like metal and sugar, and reminded Zofia of the charnel houses in Glowno.
“I didn’t realize,” said Laila. She looked up at Zofia, her eyes huge in her face. “I… I didn’t even feel it.”
Zofia knew that was not common, and she knew that Laila’s uncommon moments made Laila feel sad and too different from other people. She didn’t want her friend to be sad, not when they were so close to a solution.
“I’m not feeling a lot of things lately,” said Laila quietly.
Zofia drew herself up. Her worries had no place right now.
“We will change that,” said Zofia. “It is why we are here.”
Laila nodded, wiping the blood off her arm.
“This”—Zofia pointed to the gash on Laila’s arm—“is a symptom of a mechanical failure. That’s all. We are all machines, and you are no different. We have parts that break and need fixing, and they perform different functions and have different utilities. We will find that break and fix it.”
A slow smile curved Laila’s lips. “Then I’m lucky you’re my engineer.”
“Luck is—”
