Rector did not like the idea of homework, but he was happy for the clean slate and the chance to earn favor with the most frightening man in the Sound, so there was that to keep him warm at night. Unfortunately, he was too tired to feel much of anything beyond exhaustion, except the nagging need for sap—and the aggravating proximity of sap, which he was absolutely not allowed to have. At this time.

He wandered in the direction he thought the lobby might be in, but turned out to be wrong. He tried another hallway and learned he’d made another incorrect choice, and soon it became woefully apparent that he was lost.

He was not alone, though.

Men came and went around him, past him, and sometimes bumped right into him. Rector was absolutely not interested in a fight, but conversation might get him somewhere—so he looked for someone who might be friendly … or at least not actively hostile.

With no idea where Houjin was or if the kid had even stuck around, he was short on allies—but eventually he found an oversized room at the back of the Station line.

More like a hangar than anything else, the vast, open space was filled with balloons. They weren’t flying balloons, and they weren’t the sort that worked with an airship: They were collection balloons, stuffed fat and round with Blight. The balloons stretched and rolled, the seams of their treated canvas straining and squeaking as men bundled them up like bales, then stacked, shoved, and pushed them into a holding corner. They lumbered together like barrels, ready for processing.

At one end of the room, a small clot of workers wearing oversized gas masks moved swiftly and smoothly, driven by the confidence of long habit, despite the dangers of the substance they managed.

Rector fiddled with his gas mask, but didn’t put it on yet, in case he didn’t have to. He didn’t draw any closer than was necessary to call out, “Hey fellows…?”

Three of the five men turned to look at him. One of those failed to show any further interest and went back to his task, but the other two kept staring at him, so he went ahead and asked the rest of his question.

“Where can I find James Bishop?”

One of the masked workers nodded and said, “Next hallway down. Try the second door on the right.” He gestured with one thickly gloved hand, then turned back to the valves at his station. He drew one of the bulbous bags into position and located its release stem before hooking it onto a set of pipes.