“Why could you survive longer than the others?”

“Because I’m better in the pool than most of them.”

“Better than your teacher?”

That cool doubt was bait, but bait Kai happily swallowed. “I remade my body there, completely—Jace didn’t. Not many people do, these days. As a result, I’m more comfortable in the pool than most. It’s in my marrow.” The Craftsman beside her tensed. Let him. “I thought I could last long enough to save her.”

“By ‘her,’ you are again referring to the construct. The idol.”

“Yes.”

“You imply that it has gender and personhood.”

“Language is weird like that,” Kai said. One corner of Ms. Kevarian’s mouth tweaked up, acknowledging, rather than agreeing. “Archipelagese has a fine set of gender-neutral pronouns, but mainlanders don’t like them for some reason.”

“What about personhood? Are the idols conscious, or self-aware?”

“No. Complex behavior doesn’t emerge from a simple system, any more than lumps of iron can speak. The idols we build have a few believers at most; however much soulstuff they store, their behavior only gets so complex. About the level of a dumb rat.”

And yet, and yet. What about that scream, and the words within it, the memory denied: howl, Seven Alpha said there at the end, howl, bound world. Words hidden within the death cry, steganography of fear between two beings that recently shared a soul. No, keep to the question. Don’t hesitate. Don’t hint. Ms. Kevarian did not ask about the words, because Kai had not written them into her report, and no one else had heard them. This was not the time, not the place, to raise the subject.

Anyway, Ms. Kevarian had already proceeded to her next question. “But you have affection for these constructs.”

Kai let the words go. Breathed them out, with her memories of the dark. “We build them by hand. We’re paid to worship them, to love them. We tell their stories. It’s easy to get attached.”

Another note, another nod. “You said you were stronger in the pool because you’d remade yourself completely. What did you mean?”

The Order’s Craftsman cleared his throat, a sound like gravel being stirred. “That’s a personal question,” he said. “I don’t see how it’s relevant.”

“I want to understand Ms. Pohala’s decision-making process.” Ms. Kevarian’s smile lacked the warmth Kai typically associated with that expression.