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At night, Rata Sum hums.
Of course, the sound is there in the daytime too. That it stops existing in the dawn and returns at dusk is only an illusion. If the city held its breath at high noon, if all the people hushed, you’d hear it then too. It's the sound of lights, of golems, of hundreds of laboratories and thousands of little apartments. Magitech at work, powering everything you see and then some.
It must be late. She checks. 3:00 a.m., or right around it. She hasn’t slept well in weeks. Several hundred weeks. The hum of Rata Sum accompanies her now, vibrates through the walls of her bedroom and burrows deep into her sensitive ears. It’s not the noise that’s kept her awake all night. There’s something else in the night air, something electric and bitter. Battery acid on the tongue. There’s some kind of a storm on the horizon, rolling slowly up from the south towards Metrica. Something is coming, some anxiety twisting in her stomach that promises her no sleep tonight, no reprieve from the heat and humidity of stormy mid summer.
Laz rolls over to look at her datapad again. 3:18. It is the middle of the night, she has work at six, and she’s yet to close her eye for more than a few minutes. If she could identify the source of the dread writhing down into her, maybe she could face it head on.
But there is no source. Or, the source is almost fifteen years behind her, in a lab she’ll never see again. One more sister in her life, one more eye in her skull, and a broad horizon of opportunity stretching out before them.
She rolls onto her back and stares at the low ceiling. This feels pointless. If she can’t sleep, then she can’t sleep. She may as well get up and get ready for the day. But even thinking as much makes her eyelid droop with exhaustion. Really, Lazuli? Another all-nighter, and with nothing to show for it again?
There’s a staccato thudding that cuts through the static of the city. Laz opens her eye. It almost sounded like someone knocking. At this time of night? How preposterous. She shakes her head, closing her eye again, but strains her ears to listen closely.
There it is. She’s out of bed in an instant. It must be an emergency. Maybe something happened at the lab. An accident? Is there a fire? The storm?
The door slides smoothly open. The other asura has her back turned, looking out in the other direction at the rain, but Laz knows her immediately. She holds her breath as Priina turns.
They both eye each other openly. Priina looks like she’s barely aged a day. Her black hair is braided and neatly pinned up. Her dark traveling coat and boots are wet. She smiles across the landing, teeth gleaming and sharp. Lightning flashes somewhere distant, but Laz doesn’t hear the thunder.
“Invite me in?” Priina suggests. Laz's right hand twitches on the door panel. She knows better than this.
She steps aside. Priina crosses the threshold.
“Your own apartment,” she croons. “Very swanky. Any boyfriends? Girlfriends? Beneficial krewemates?”
She’s testing the waters. She’s checking the exits. Laz doesn’t respond. Priina grins again. “You could say something to me. It’s been… twelve years?”
“Fifteen,” Laz corrects her swiftly.
“Fifteen years.” Her smile doesn’t falter. Her eyes move around the apartment again, then back to Laz's face, pausing on her empty socket. She feels herself cringe, flinching at the thought that Priina is scoping out her own handiwork.
“Well,” Priina says, and puts her hands out, palms open. “You made it.”
The city buzzes in the background. The rain pelts the walkways. Rata Sum holds its breath.
“You got out of the Inquest, you pulled yourself up, and you made it all the way to the top. Your own apartment.” Priina plops down in the middle of Laz's sofa and removes her pack, setting it aside. “How does it feel?”
Lazuli isn’t the type to break down crying—she knows that. She feels hollow in an angry way. The empty spot burns where her right eye was fifteen years ago.
“What are you doing here,” Laz asks, and turns her back to turn the kettle on. She feels Priina's pink eyes follow her. She feels the grin on the back of her head.
“Is it a crime to drop in and say hello to my sister?”
“When you’re a wanted Inquest criminal, yes. It is.”
“Lets call the Peacemakers together then,” Priina says. Laz clenches her fists for a minute on the counter, holds her breath until the kettle boils, and finally exhales to pour two cups of coffee.
“Do you remember the break room coffee at the Nautica compound?” Priina asks, accepting the offered mug in two clawed, manicured hands.
“Was that stuff even really coffee?” Laz asks, sitting across from her in one of the arm chairs.
“Well, sure. So they claimed.” Priina smiles. They both take a drink. She trusts Laz not to poison her.
“How is Spix,” Laz asks, as Priina looks around the room again. She drums her claws on the ceramic mug.
“Same as he ever was. He’s getting into some crazy conspiracy theories about ooze lately—but, well, those crazy theories are exactly why I fell for his big dumb head.”
Silence. They’ve run out of topics to catch up on. “I think things are going to go south for us soon,” Priina says, looking away from her towards the kettle, the spout still steaming. “If you’re scheduled to travel anytime soon, I’d stay put. For now, at least.”
She smiles again. Toothy and pretty and cold.
“I can’t…” Laz stops herself. “If you want out—”
“I don’t want out. I’m Inquest, and I’ll die Inquest if it comes down to it.”
Laz feels something hot in her chest, in her throat, but she swallows the words. She looks down at her coffee.
“I do need a favor, though,” Priina says, smiling at the panel on the wall. “Just a small one. Between sisters.”
No, Laz knows she should say. Whatever it is, leave now. She can’t spend any more of her life lying awake waiting for the axe to fall. Not for Priina. Not for anyone.
“It’s in my bag,” Priina says, setting her coffee mug on the table, just a few inches from a coaster. “As are the instructions. Simple stuff. Nothing dangerous.”
Laz stares at the ring forming around her coffee cup. Priina stands, leaving her pack on the sofa.
“It was good to see you,” Priina says. “Who knows? Maybe we cross paths again in another twelve years.”
She opens the door to let herself out and slips into the dark night. Rain pelts the walkways outside, beyond the open door. Laz lowers her head into her palm and sighs, rubbing her temple in irritation. She glances at the wall panel for the time. 3:44 a.m.
Whatever Priina left her, she should dump it now. Whatever it is… she’s not doing any more favors for her. Laz stands, moves both their mugs to the kitchen, and approaches the sofa. Priina's pack rustles slightly. Laz hesitates. An animal? Some kind of experiment?
Carefully, she peels away the rain-damp top flap of the pack and flips it open.
She stumbles back, hand over her mouth as the little progeny squints up at her.
HER NAME IS THIIYFADORA, Priina’s neat, uniform handwriting declares from the note pinned to the onesie. Lightning flashes outside again, silent.
The sound comes later.