The floor opened.
A circular section near the far wall rose smoothly and hummed on some mechanism she couldn't see. She watched a woman appear through it, unhurried, adjusting her cloak as she rose.
Old. No implants at all, which on its own was remarkable enough to arrest Coreni's attention — she'd never seen a person of that age without at least some cybernetic reinforcement. Her eyes were tired and very aware, the combination of someone who had been paying attention for a long time and had not particularly enjoyed everything they'd seen.
She looked at Coreni and nodded, the way people did when something confirmed what they'd already suspected.
"You do not have to stand in the middle of the room pretending you weren't just listening at the walls," she said. "I am Prophet Mother Dremma. Sit down, please."
Coreni sat on the edge of the bed, because there was nowhere else to sit and also because something in the woman's voice made arguing feel like a waste of both their time.
"Where am I?"
"Somewhere safe. For the moment."
"I'd like a more specific answer than that."
"I'm certain you would." Dremma settled on the far end of the bed, her movements slow and deliberate. "How do you feel?"
"Like someone knocked me unconscious on a loading dock. Where are my clothes?"
"Being cleaned. You'll have them back shortly. Give me your hand."
Coreni looked at the outstretched hand. "Why?"
"Because I'm asking."
That wasn't an answer. Coreni gave her the hand anyway, because she was in a room with no door and no leverage and this woman was the only information source available. She'd work with what she had.
Dremma's grip was gentle. She turned Coreni's hand over in both of hers, running her thumbs slowly across the palm, then the wrist, then the inside of the forearm. Her eyes were slightly unfocused, and Coreni wondered what she saw.
And then Coreni felt a faint buzzing at the edge of her thoughts. Not words. Not quite sensation. Just — a presence, brief and careful, like someone checking a lock without turning it.
She pulled her hand back. "What was that?"
"Nothing to concern yourself with now." Dremma's expression had shifted. Something shifted behind her eyes that she tried to hide.
Coreni still noticed.
The woman stood, and from the folds of her cloak produced Coreni's clothes, folded with precise creases. She laid them on the bed. "Dress. Edi-Veen will take you home."
"Edi-Veen." The name felt weird on her toungue. "Is he the one who —"
"Yes."
"Is he going to tell me what's happening?"
Dremma paused at the edge of the opening in the floor. In the pink light, with no implants and that particular quality of stillness, she looked ancient in a way that had nothing to do with age.
Like she had seen world changing events and had not forgotten them.
"The Fraluma are not the emotionless weapons the government would have you believe," she said. "Remember that, when you find yourself afraid of him. He could not have hurt you. Whatever else you're uncertain about — hold onto that."
"That's not actually an answer to my question."
"No," Dremma agreed. "It isn't." And she descended through the floor, which closed behind her without a sound.
Not long after Dremma left, the voices started again.
