I was exhausted. I clung to my scrap of ancient technology as it careened up into the dark.

That sleek voice whispered in my ear, on and on.

“You can never live up to Hily’s memory, little Raida. You do see that, don’t you? You needn’t feel you have failed. For you could never have succeeded … I saw your mother die.”

“Shut up, L’Eesh.”

“I was at her side—”

“Shut up.”

He fell silent, waiting.

I knew he was manipulating me, but I couldn’t help but ask. “Tell me.”

“She was shot in the back.”

“Who?”

“It doesn’t matter … She was killed for her catch, her trophies. Her death wasn’t dishonorable. She must even have expected it. We are a nation of thieves, you see, we hunters. You shouldn’t feel bitter.”

“I don’t feel anything.”

“Of course not … ”

His brooding glow was edging closer.

I closed my eyes. What would Hily have done?

Use your head. There is always an option.

I took my hand off the button. The palette rocked to a halt. “Get it over,” I panted.

Now he had nothing to say; his words had fulfilled their purpose. He closed, that eerie green glow sliding over the crude brickwork.

And I jammed my hand back on the button.

My palette lumbered into motion. I watched the exhaust gather into a thick crimson mist below me.

L’Eesh hurtled up into the mist, crouching on his palette—which abruptly cracked apart and crumbled. Stranded in the air, he arced a little higher, and then began to fall amid the fragments.

I sat there until my heart stopped rattling. Then I followed him down.

“My fall is slow,” he said, analytic, observing. “Low gravity, high air resistance. You could probably retrieve me. But you won’t.”