Even without the tug in her soul, she would have recognized Kai’s Penitent: shorter than the rest, crudely fashioned, blunter in the lines of face and body, and yet more lively than the common model. Modern Penitents, drunken watchmen whispered in their cups—drink was the one vice permitted them, and they indulged like other men and women, maybe worse—modern Penitents were sculpted under a Craftsman’s guidance, from living rock on some distant atoll to which even the Iskari Navy now gave a wide berth. They were sharp, industrial, and reminded Izza of the warships that docked at East Claw: straight lines and planes angled to form a joint or suggest a muscle. Kai’s Penitent was different. Thin furrows whorled its back, as if a giant had built the thing by hand and left fingerprints behind.

It scared Izza all the same.

She led Mako to the Penitent.

He shuffled over the sand, swinging his stick.

The Penitent’s fingers twitched.

Izza caught her breath. Maybe Penitents shifted sometimes in their sleep, or in their watch. After all, they had human beings inside them. But Izza had never seen another Penitent twitch.

She guided Mako along the beach. Though shorter than the rest, Kai’s Penitent was a mountain still, flanked by mountains. Starlight caught in ruby eyes; night robbed of color, the paint’s slick surface was almost blood.

Izza turned the old man’s shoulders until he faced the Penitent. “Here she is.”

He pressed his stick into the sand, and folded both hands atop it. A breeze blew his loose gray hair and ragged clothes. She released his wrist and retreated a step, not knowing why. He looked taller, and older, than she had thought.

Kai’s Penitent groaned. Or Kai groaned. Izza recognized the sound: the nameless animal terror that came when you woke to find a knife at your throat.

Kai was awake. Which meant the Penitent was, too.

“What now?” she whispered. The old man seemed carved out of the same rock as the sentinels. She didn’t expect an answer.

“Bring me closer,” he said. “I need to touch her.”

*   *   *

Kai heard the approaching footfalls with dim sympathy. She hoped these interlopers would leave. She’d found a grip on the crystal brain and its laws. Without distraction, with only stars and rolling ocean to occupy her mind, she might carve herself some space, some minor freedom.

Unless even this slight victory was only the Penitent sinking deeper into her mind as her resistance flagged.

No sense thinking that way. You had to trust yourself. Some parts of you, at least. There was nothing else.

Then the newcomers spoke, and she recognized their voices.

Izza. Mako.

Gods.

She tried to suppress the realization, her certainty as to what they’d come to do, or try; too slow. The old man and the thief were here to rescue her.