The enemy constructs would have an obedience shard near the top, telling them to obey Nisong, with the identifying mark carved into bone by her name as she held the shard to her chest. I’d changed the identifier on my father’s constructs, making myself the one they should obey. But I wouldn’t be there in the construct camp. That wasn’t a strategy I could use.

They’d be programmed to attack. I wasn’t sure how many shards Nisong had been able to gather or how complex her commands would be. I could have my construct go about and remove shards, replacing them in the wrong spots. Her army would begin falling apart. But it wouldn’t be able to destroy many before someone noticed and it was caught, its work undone. I had to be subtle.

We were made to be similar, but Nisong’s past had made her into a different person. My friendship with Numeen had changed me as well.

But at our cores…

I closed my eyes, trying to imagine what commands I would give constructs to fight when I had only a few shards. They hadn’t seemed very aware. Their attack command would have to specify people, not constructs. But they hadn’t attacked me or Jovis when we’d arrived at the camp to bargain with Nisong. So they were waiting for a command.

When a construct commands you to attack, attack people until asked to stop.

I remembered the modifications I’d made to my father’s construct. The obvious solution would be to change “people” to “constructs,” but the words weren’t at all similar. I picked up the books again, flipping through them to try and find something that might jog loose an idea. Outside, the sky had begun to darken, clouds rolling in from the west. Thrana went to the window, closing the shutters. “Rain coming,” she said. It would make it easier for my construct to sneak into the encampment. There was a small bit of luck, at least. “Do you think Jovis and Mephi are well?”

I pressed my fingers into the sides of my nose, drawing in a sharp breath. “I don’t know.” I’d been able to put them from my mind for a moment while I’d been concentrating. The pain rushed back in, a flash flood into a hollow basin. I’d spent far more time than I’d realized with Jovis, translating his book, discussing politics with him on the ship, learning how to use my Alanga gifts.

His book.

Had he left it with me? I went back to my locked chest, digging around in the bottom. There. He’d left it behind. I pulled it free, flipping through pages and notes as quick as I could read them.