Ila swallows. “Too many.”
The blue-white line pulses. Once. Pause. Again. On the map, the blank space glows brighter. The system has found another path. Or it is making one.
Virn snarls. “Evacuate it.”
“Quietly,” I say. Everyone looks at me. “If panic gathers above the channel, vibration increases. If the zemlja is being positioned under the weak places, panic will help it.”
Adran’s mouth tightens. “You want a quiet evacuation of an overcrowded heat shelter beneath a cracking district.”
“Yes,” I say. “Simple.”
“No,” Adran says.
I turn to Ila. “Can Sera do it?”
The question leaves before I can stop it. Every eye shifts. I hate myself. I named her function too.
Ila’s expression softens just enough to become painful. “She can.”
“No,” Rosalind says. I look at her. Her face is hard. “She is injured. She needs a healer. And if Adran is right about anything, it is that every eye is already on her.”
Adran inclines his head slightly, as if agreeing with Rosalind costs him nothing because he still owns the shape of the discussion. I dislike him more.
“Sera knows those corridors,” Ila says.
“Do you?” I ask.
She hesitates.
Then nods. “Enough.”
“Then you go,” Rosalind says. “Take Penr. Two quiet runners. No crowd announcement. Move the weakest first under heat rotation orders. Do not say epis. Do not say zemlja.”
Ila nods. Then she looks at me.
“You?”
“I find where the signal enters that branch,” I say.
Virn steps forward. “I go with you.”
Syin says, “So do I.”
Adran says, “My guards will accompany you.”
“No,” Virn says.
Adran’s eyes narrow. “You do not command my guards.”
“I command whether they make enough noise to kill us.”
Syin’s mouth curls. “Let them stay. They breathe loudly.”
One guard looks insulted. Better than dead.
“The proof moves to the inner cool vault. Ila, can you take the healthy sample after the evacuation?” Rosalind asks, gathering the samples.
“No,” I say. Rosalind’s gaze cuts to mine. I point to the map. “The sample activated the route.”
