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home. What could she do? I take care of the children. It’s my job. It’s the job Lord Spirit gave me. “We have to get them out,” Matisse said, sprinting toward the Roost. “They know where to look because we cleaned this section of Elantris. The city is huge—if we get the children out into the dirty part, we can hide the...
only occupied buildings would have been the ones Ashe had indicated were being attacked. Their occupants … Don’t think about that, Matisse thought as their ragged band of fifty children reached the edges of New Elantris. They were almost free. They could— A voice suddenly yelled behind them, speaking in a harsh tongue ...
going. She had to. These men would find the children. The children were too slow. Unless … She looked up at the seon beside her, noting the glowing Aon at his center. It meant “light.” “Ashe,” she said urgently as the soldiers approached. “Find Idotris ahead. Tell him to put out his lantern, then lead him and the other...
she thought. Of course they know how to surround an enemy and cut them off! She spun to run, but one of the men grabbed her arm, laughing and saying something in Fjordell. Matisse cried out, dropping the lantern. The soldier stumbled, but held her firm. Think! Matisse told herself. You only have a moment. Her feet slip...
his knife before her. Matisse had never felt such terror in her life. And that was when the ground began to shake. The eastern sky had begun to glow with the coming of dawn, but that light was overshadowed by a sudden burst of light from around the perimeter of the city. The soldier paused, looking up at the sky. Sudde...
serve once they recovered their wits when Elantris was restored—in thanks for his services to New Elantris. Dashe had given one to his daughter. “Which seon did she end up with?” Raoden asked. “Ati?” “Actually, no,” Ashe said. “I believe it was Aeo.” “Equally appropriate,” Raoden said, smiling and standing as the door ...
did seem that the ash fell a little less frequently. But the fact that nobody organized to clean it up meant that it felt like there was far more. Kelsier curled his hand around the coping of the wall. He’d never liked this part of the Western Dominance. The buildings out here felt … melted. No, that was the wrong term...
like you did in the old days. I won’t let you talk through this, I won’t. You’re Mistborn. You fight.” “I will use whatever tool I have to.” “You’ll fight! Do you want to be weak again, let them take you again?” Kelsier was silent. “You want vengeance on them? Don’t you?” “Yes,” Kelsier growled. Something massive and d...
on the streets? That he and his brother had lived lives of privilege, their half-breed nature kept secret from society? He hated the nobility, true. Their balls and parties, their prim self-satisfaction, their superiority. But he couldn’t deny, not to himself, that he belonged among them. At least as much as he did amo...
should be he did not know. He trailed Gemmel’s shadowed form as they reached the wall around Keep Shezler and placed their backs to it. Atop that wall, guards called to one another in the night. Gemmel nodded, then dropped a coin. The scrawny, bearded man lurched into the air a second later. He wore a mistcloak—a dark ...
learn to keep your pewter burning. You shouldn’t have had such a hard time climbing up over the edge of the wall.” “I—” “Don’t give me an excuse about saving your metals,” Gemmel said, inspecting the keep just ahead. “I’ve met children of the streets. They don’t conserve. If you come at one of them, they’ll use everyth...
the buildings, looked unfinished to Kelsier. “Where?” Kelsier said. “Up,” Gemmel said. “Then down.” He jumped from the wall and threw a coin for himself. He Pushed against it, and his weight drove it downward. When it hit the ground, Gemmel launched higher toward the building. Kelsier leaped and Pushed against his own ...
you Pushed off, the faster and higher you could go—and flared his steel. He Pushed with everything he had, sending himself upward like an arrow. Mists streamed around him. The colorful lights of the stained-glass windows withdrew below. A spire dwindled on either side of him, growing more and more narrow. He shoved off...
wary of another attack. “It’s in the basement,” Gemmel muttered. “Basement, of all things. Why a basement?” “What’s in the basement?” Kelsier asked. “Our goal,” Gemmel said. “We had to go up high, so I could look for an entrance. I think there’s one out here in the gardens.” “Wait, that actually sounds reasonable,” Kel...
coins,” the man murmured. Kelsier smiled, approaching the door at the bottom. He felt out for it, grabbing the metal latch. He carefully eased it open. There was light on the other side. Kelsier crouched—despite what Gemmel might think, he’d done his share of infiltrating and quiet nighttime thefts. He wasn’t some new ...
bonds, and he hesitated. He heard a muffled sound. Glancing to the side, he saw a second woman, older and matronly. Her skin had been all but flayed from beatings. Her eyes, however, were not nearly as frantic as those of the younger woman. Kelsier moved over and removed her gag. “Please,” the woman said. “Free us. Or ...
The nobleman sniffed, then raised a hand and tossed a coin at Kelsier. After a brief moment of surprise, Kelsier Pushed on it right as Lord Shezler did. Both were thrown backward, and Shezler’s eyes widened in shock. Kelsier slammed back against the wall. Shezler was Mistborn. No matter. A new kind of anger rose within...
to Kelsier. So, he snatched up a shard of broken glass from the floor, heedless of the cuts on his fingers. Pewter let him ignore pain as he jumped toward Shezler, going for his throat. He probably shouldn’t have won. Shezler was the more accomplished and practiced Allomancer—but it was obvious he was unaccustomed to f...
carefully and meticulously selected a fork from the fallen tools and other scattered laboratory remains. He smiled and chuckled to himself. “Now that is a fork.” He shoved it into his pocket. Kelsier took the book. In moments, he was ushering the wounded skaa away from the keep, where soldiers were prowling the yards, ...
wall of a small canyon, and the mouth opened only to a steep drop onto a group of rounded rocks far below. Across from me, atop the ridge on the other side of the canyon, a group of blue figures watched my cavern. The hulking koloss were older ones, their skin stretched and broken, their bodies tattooed and draped with...
Indeed, the Survivor favored me this day, for I located a small glimmering strain of metal along the far wall. Almost invisible, I discovered it only by touch.* In the dim cavern I could not judge the metal’s full nature, but I had no other options. Now, I have found from my infrequent trips to Elendel that I am regard...
am certain my frustration shone through, and I hope you do not think less of me—dear reader—to see such harsh words spoken to my spirit guide. However, I was not only concerned for the safety of my dear Elizandra, but was also devastated to lose the loyalty of this tribe of koloss. Savages though they are, they had see...
must soon impart unto you. If you must read on, be warned: The contents of this letter are dreadful, and might produce discomfort—even sickness—in the more frail and youthful among you. I did leap from my cavern prison into the rising waters of the river. I must severely advise my readers against this kind of activity ...
long last?* I looked for the other sign, that of the bloody footprints spoken of in the legends. I did not see them until my wet form was dragged across the stones nearest to the pool. If you travel long in the Roughs, you will find that water sometimes reveals the true color of stone. This is not so much the case in t...
that I was wrong. So very wrong. I have since learned the terrible truth. The ancients are right. Koloss are people. The process is terrible. To initiate a man into their ranks, they take him and pin him with small spikes of metal. This creates a mystical transformation, during which the man’s mind and identity are sav...
their greatest champion. My mother.” “The champion was a woman?” I asked. “Of course. Didn’t you notice?” I glanced at the gathered koloss, who wore loincloths, but generally no tops. If there was a way to distinguish the males from the females other than … ahem … peeking, I did not know it. In fact, I’d rather not hav...
Would an ordinary human be strong enough to do this?” “Gun,” said one of the ancients. “It takes not strength to use the gun.” Rust and Ruin! “Well then,” I declared, “I will prove it in a final test. For I will bring you the treasure of the Survivor!” The koloss grew silent. Their clapping stopped. “Not possible,” sai...
threatened to overwhelm me, and though I could not see, I knew that my vision was growing cloudy. My body was failing me as I plummeted toward unconsciousness. I knew that I would die in these unseen depths. At that moment, I thought of Elizandra being turned into a koloss, losing the beautiful wit that so charmed me. ...
key we had found in Maelstrom’s mine, and it fitted* exactly. I turned it with a click, and opened the top. Inside were spikes. The koloss shouts first worried me, but they turned out to be shouts of joy. I looked to Elizandra, confused. “New spikes,” she said. “Many of them. With these, the tribe can grow. They were l...
crowd—and dreaming of the story behind the story of which he was a part. The second moment that helped all this come together was reading the later books in the Foundation series by Isaac Asimov. I was awed by how he managed to tie the Robot novels and the Foundation novels together in one grand story. I knew I wanted ...
a whole. The truth is, most of what’s going on in the Cosmere hasn’t yet been revealed, so you couldn’t be expected to be up to date on it all. That said, I do promise that this collection will provide not just questions, but at long last, some answers. First off, let’s acknowledge Emily—the person this book is dedicat...
an extra-large burden for these four Secret Projects, as it was a huge endeavor to get it all put together, packaged, and shipped out to you all. They also spearheaded getting the digital products to everyone, and they handle customer service, so no matter which version of the book you ended up getting, these are the f...
at me in the most unbearable way. Why I ever gave her a face, I’ll never know. “About time you loosened up a little,” she said. “Shut up.” I shook off the dozen or so coats that had been hung all over me, then pulled off the hooks and other things she’d attached for the purpose. I had to blink paint out of my eyes. Sto...
with the planet UTol—which you might have heard about for other reasons.) The emergence of the sun didn’t cause an utter catastrophe on Komashi, though they did learn the hard way about sunburns. Turns out, a number of the spirits liked being hion lines, and were persuaded to continue in that service—with proper paymen...
close their very souls seemed to mix. And in the case of these two, those souls did at least mash together with a blast of abiding warmth. That said, it wasn’t a very good kiss. Considering the limited experience of the ones responsible, that won’t surprise you. Yet for two people whose only previous brushes with roman...
have found my explanation unnecessary. Why put such effort into describing something everyone knows? It would be like describing the sun to you. Yet you need this context, for—cold and warm—the hion lines were the colors of Kilahito. Needing no pole or wire to hold them aloft, they ran down every street, reflected in e...
overstuffed apartments. The only activity he spotted was from Rabble Way: a street you might charitably call a low-end merchant district. Naturally, the long narrow street lay near the perimeter of town. Here, the hion had been bent and curved into signs. These stuck out from shop after shop, like hands waving for atte...
He would reject any such offer with stoic firmness, of course. Because he worked by himself. He was a single saunterer. A… Painter sighed. It was difficult to maintain a properly brooding air after an encounter with Akane. Particularly as her laughter echoed two streets over. To many of his colleagues, nightmare painti...
it had distinct spots of varied color on it—like a boiling breakfast stew, churning and undulating in the sky. This scarlet sun painted the landscape…well, perfectly ordinary colors. That’s how the brain works. Once you’d been there a few hours, you wouldn’t notice the light was a shade redder. But when you first arriv...
six inches tall—but they grant most outsiders the graceful poise of a drunk chull.) With all of that, she was at last ready…for her next ritual. In this case, she needed to pray at the village shrine to seek the blessings of the spirits. So she again let her attendants block all view of her with their fans, then walked...
for once, she could ask? The festival, she thought. I could visit, wearing the clothing of an ordinary person. One day to be normal. Rustling cloth and the sound of wooden shoes on stone caused Yumi to turn. Only one person would dare approach her during meditation: Liyun, a tall woman in a severe black tobok with a wh...
currently living.” “I know.” “You are special.” She would have preferred to be less special—but she felt guilty the moment she thought it. “I understand,” Yumi said, steeling herself. “Let us not wait for the steamwell. Please, lead me to the place of ritual. I am eager to begin my duties and call the spirits.” It’s te...
So they made for large inviting canvases. Not strictly part of the job, each was a certain personal statement. He passed Akane’s painting, depicting an expansive flower. Black paint on the whitewashed wall. His own spot was two buildings over. Just a blank white wall, though if you looked closely you could see the fail...
up on human thoughts, changing from formless blackness to something with a shape. Only a vague one at first, but instead of being a slinking, flowing black thing, it probably had feet now. Even in that form they rarely left footprints, so he was fortunate to have found one. He moved onto a darker street, where the hion...
it, and its shape was still fairly indistinct. This was probably only its first or second trip into the city. It took a good dozen trips before a nightmare had enough substance to be dangerous—and they had to return to the shroud each time to renew, lest they evaporate away. Judging by its appearance, this one was fair...
a sound very much like a sigh, the nightmare dispersed. He’d deliberately transformed it into a harmless shape—and now, trapped as it was, it couldn’t flee to the shroud to regain strength. Instead, like water trapped on a hot plate, it just…evaporated. Soon Painter was alone in the alley. He packed up his things, slid...
the other resting on the ground. Most of them had a stocky tree or two—about eight feet from the tips of their branches to the bottom of their wide, webbed roots—chained to them, riding the thermals a few feet in the air. Lighter plants hovered high in the sky, casting variegated shadows. During the daytime, you found ...
your skin that close to the ground. Here, there was something almost intimate about kneeling. Spirits gathered in warm places. Or rather, warmth was a sign they were near. They were unseen as of yet. You had to draw them forth—but they wouldn’t come to the beck of just anyone. You needed someone like Yumi. You needed a...
stacks of five or three delight just as much. Incongruous mixes of tiny rocks, with enormous ones balanced on top. Shingled patterns of stones, oblong ones hanging out precariously to the sides. Stones as long as her forearm balanced on their tiniest tips. From the mathematical descriptions, and the use of the artist’s...
day’s art. Too tired to stand, Yumi turned from her creation—which contained hundreds of stones. Then she blinked, counting the spirits who surrounded her in their glory—in this case they looked a bit like a series of overly large ice cream scoops that had tumbled from the cone. Thirty-seven. She’d summoned thirty-seve...
pair, as was used in the garden veranda, to lift her small dairy into the air so that it would stay cooler and she could make butter. Yumi complied, speaking to the next spirit in line, coaxing it to split into the shape of two squat statues with grimacing features. Each supplicant in turn got their request fulfilled. ...
unconscious, her hair fanning around her on the stone and her ceremonial silks trembling in the breeze. The nightmares had originally come from the sky. Painter had heard the accounts. Everyone had. They weren’t quite histories, mind you. They were fragments of stories that were likely exaggerations. They were taught i...
impressive glare. Some facial expressions, like miso, require aging to hit their potency. Painter feigned indifference, taking his wages for the day and stepping out onto the street. He slung his bag over his shoulder—with his tools and remaining canvases—and went searching for some dinner. The Noodle Pupil was the sor...
crushes on her. She insisted, you see, that I make her disguise particularly striking. Or, well, I should say it in her words: “Make me pretty so they’ll be extra disturbed if my face ever unravels. And give me voluptuous curves, because they remind me of a graphed cosine. And also because boobs look fun.” It wasn’t an...
discounts in prime number increments. Because, and I quote, “I have standards.” Still not sure what she meant.) She turned to see to another customer, so Painter continued slurping down the long noodles in the warm, savory broth. The dish was quite good. Best in the city, according to some people, which isn’t that surp...
of light hanging above, their reflections ghosts beneath the ground. Painter breathed in, and out, and in again. Having fled from Design’s offers, he found it difficult to maintain the pretense. He knew he wasn’t a loner. He wasn’t some proud knight fighting the darkness for honor’s sake. He wasn’t important, interesti...
faint representations, just two lines vaguely in the shapes of people. Other times I saw paintings or full-motion images. I seemed to have some control over which it became, depending on my level of attention. To this day, I can’t completely explain why this happened. Something to do with the Connection between us, tho...
bless them as you did this one?” “I…” “I’m certain it is wisdom in you, Chosen,” Liyun said, “to do as you did. I am certain it is not you working too hard, so that the next town in line gets a much smaller blessing and therefore thinks themselves less worthy also.” Yumi felt sick at the very thought. Her arms dangled ...
local word was “mingo.” But it boiled up nearly the same except for the deep blue-purple color, so I’ll use the more familiar word. As Yumi watched, some dozen rice plants caught a rogue night thermal and jetted into the air, then drifted lazily back down. Small creatures scurried underneath looking for something to ni...
Yumi’s breath caught. She’d read that story. Most cultures have something similar. Some are terrible, but this wasn’t one of those places. Here the boons of spirits were always associated with wondrous adventure. She shouldn’t want adventure though. She hesitated. Teetered, like a stone unbalanced. Then, in what was th...
as deep as sockets in a skull. This nightmare barely dripped darkness from its face. It was almost fully stable. No longer formless. No longer aimless. No longer harmless. This thing must have been incredibly crafty to have escaped notice during so many trips to the city. It took around ten feedings for a nightmare to ...
brief, probably saved Painter’s life, as he managed to get his umbrella out and open to shelter his canvas so he could begin. He started with bamboo, naturally. A…a blob at the bottom, then…then the straight line upward with a swipe. Just the briefest pause then to make the next knob… Like clockwork. He’d done this a h...
stable nightmare, and he’d learned—painfully—that wasn’t him. Fortunately, he’d done enough to frighten it away. Now he could go and tell his superiors about the encounter, and they’d send for the Dreamwatch. They could hunt it before it finished its last few feedings, and the city would be safe. He left the canvas on ...
feet like clay, mushy, his head a boulder. He teetered. He needed…sleep. The nightmare would not return to the city tonight. It would run to the shroud, regenerate, then slink in the following…night. He could tell the foreman…when he woke… Sluggish, his mind a haze, he turned toward home, which was fortunately nearby. ...
bunch of prayers? He could read them without trouble. The girl fell silent as her cries for help fortunately brought no response. If she was a nightmare, she…well, she defied his knowledge. One that was fully stable like she was should have been physical. She also shouldn’t have had color, or the shape of a girl, but s...
essence of flame. He put his toe into it, cringing—but nothing happened. He stepped fully into it and felt like he’d slipped into a warm bath. How strange. Blinking against the brightness, he raised his hand to shade his eyes and looked out. I wouldn’t call that a mistake, not really. But like a ten-year-old asking for...
on how to pout. The two women, however, walked straight through Yumi as if they couldn’t see her. They carried a small table, for sitting on the floor while eating, and a bowl of rice. They approached Painter and knelt, bowing. He eyed Yumi, who stood up, her long hair snarled from sleep. She cocked her head, then walk...
make an outburst. I think that is rather part of the definition. The words simply gushed out. “I made a mistake!” she said. “I somehow worked too hard yesterday. Is that why you decided to rise? Why you demanded my help, then took my shape? Is that what this is? Punishment? You’re here to embarrass me! You know how som...
who can help you. “They sent you,” Yumi whispered. “They sent you to help me! The spirits are in danger. There are stories like this—great heroes tasked with quests by the spirits.” Her eyes widened. “They needed a boon from me. They needed my body? I couldn’t do what they needed, so they’ve put you in my place… Tell m...
wagon. He stepped forward as if to catch her, and her chest brushed against his. That warmth flooded her again, radiating deep into her core. With a yelp, she managed to leap away, then fell to the floor. Having no body, it didn’t hurt, but her blush was hotter this time. Celibacy was a fact of a yoki-hijo’s life, natu...
her this: ‘I am sorry, Warden-nimi. I felt remnants of a dream, and was speaking according to them. By overtaxing myself yesterday, I’ve left myself weakened, as your wise counsel indicated. Forgive my indiscretions.’ ” He reluctantly repeated the words, cutting Liyun off. The warden fell silent, studying him. “Kneel,”...
had sent a youth of her own age as the hero. Perhaps their ages had to match for the transfer to occur. And likely a hero this young was more incredible, to have accomplished so much in only two decades of life. “Those other women were offended,” he said, “when I took the food. Was it for them to eat, then?” “They must...
relaxing a little. “Does this require painting?” “Painting?” she said, cocking her head. “We call them. Through art.” Through art. Right. Okay. That he could do. Maybe even something other than bamboo. Was it true—had he been summoned to an entirely different world simply to…to paint? He should probably make sure, he t...
this time? There were plenty of other oddities to occupy his attention. For example, the attendants held out big fans to hide him from the eyes of the gathering townspeople. That left gaps through which he could be seen though, and apparently the entire town had lined up to catch a glimpse of him. Why the pageantry? Co...
Yumi explained, “but I am still the yoki-hijo, and must follow the directions of the spirits. I must do my ritual cleansing. If we’re going to figure out what it is they have sent you to do, then I must be pure before their eyes.” Painter tried to forcibly stifle his blush. He figured that heroes didn’t blush. Unless t...
you can at least not be a creep. Painter closed his eyes. The attendants led him into the water, which he found warm. This was the cold spring? They began bathing him with the ritual soaps, and didn’t exclaim or run screaming at the discovery of certain unexpected bits, so Painter assumed that the illusion—or whatever ...
and he—at Yumi’s instruction—did his best to stay underwater for the ritual amount of time. After that, the attendants withdrew from the pool to dry off, then stepped outside to dress and prepare the yoki-hijo’s tobok, which would take a few minutes. Alone with Yumi, Painter tipped his head back and relaxed into the wa...
getting wet when I stepped into the pool. I felt nothing, like when I tried to touch the blanket or the wall. Now though, I do feel it. I’m floating. I feel the water’s coolness like every other time I’ve entered a pool like this.” She cocked her head. “It means something. You’re right.” They met one another’s eyes. Th...
he shouted as the beating persisted. “I said I’m coming!” He shifted, sitting up, and put his hand to his head. Yumi sat up from the floor beside his futon, dressed in a pair of his pajamas—the oversized shirt exposing her shoulder, the sleeves long enough that her hands barely stuck out the ends. Her hair was a frizzy...
of loose trousers and a buttoned shirt, made of a thick but soft material. She gasped. You could see the exact shape of her— That and the curve of her— “Yumi,” the hero said. “Look at me. Are you all right?” “No!” she said. She glanced around again, and as her eyes adjusted to the darkness—it must be night here, but wh...
breath and gave a deep ritual bow of conciliation. “O great being of the cold skies, forgive any slight or offense I have given. It is not my intent. Please ask of me what you will. I will do all in my power to see it delivered to you.” “Oh. Uh…” The foreman shuffled from one foot to the other. “Just, have him report i...
to Yumi and paused, then cocked her head. “Oh,” she said, taking in Yumi’s state of dress. “Um…hello. Are you…a friend of Nikaro’s?” “She’s going to think we’re sleeping together,” Painter said. “This is bad. She’ll never talk to me again. Quick, uh, tell her you’re my sister!” “I’m his sister,” Yumi whispered. “Yumi.”...
one of his conquests?” Yumi asked. “Girl,” Akane said, “your brother has trouble conquering a bowl of noodles if it has too much spice.” “He’s…a mighty hero though. Right?” Yumi asked. In the other room, Painter groaned louder. “Hero?” Akane laughed. Then she turned and stalked away down the corridor, wearing shoes tha...
they wanted of her. Why was she here in this terrible place? Why had they sent her a liar instead of a hero? No spirits visited. She felt nothing other than a ravenous hunger. “I need something to eat,” she said. “Rice cakes in the cupboard maybe?” he said, waving. “Some dry instant noodles. You can eat them raw. I do....
he asked. “Your planet is the only thing we can see in the sky here. It wouldn’t tell us anything even if I could see it right now.” He stood up and moved to a piece of glass affixed to one wall. He tried to touch it, then muttered softly as his hand passed through it. “I keep forgetting. Here, come turn this knob.” Sh...
was actually an ally and who was lying. She knew that she should have been doing something else. Meditating, at the very least. But for some reason the story connected to her. The man with a blank life. Everything he tried was new… She was so tired. Overwhelmed. There was something incredibly therapeutic about sitting,...
the spirits want us to meet with them?” He hesitated. “That doesn’t make sense though. How would they help with your world? And why wouldn’t the spirits send one of them to you instead of me? So…I don’t know.” Yumi nodded, though she was barely listening. She found her mind oddly cloudy. She…she had to… Suddenly she wa...
bring upon them to be refused the blessings of the spirits. They would see it as a terrible omen. They would be the town that caused the yoki-hijo to collapse. The shame would run deep, Chosen.” “Look,” Painter said, “it’s not like I fainted on purpose just to—” “No,” Yumi said stepping up to him. He turned, frowning. ...
Then a sudden noise like an explosion from near the center of the town made Painter spin, gaping as a jet of superheated water erupted and sprayed some thirty or forty feet into the air. The entire procession stopped to let him watch. It was like the ground was so inhospitable that the very laws of nature were corrupte...
stepped toward her, leaning forward until he feared touching noses and experiencing that surreal warmth again. She could glare, yes. Even loom with aplomb, despite being shorter than him. But Painter was an artist, and one thing artists learned to do was look. There’s something unnerving about the stare of someone trai...
he didn’t care if she watched him. Chaeyung and Hwanji approached, bringing him towels and clothing. “Just don’t faint this time!” Yumi called from behind. “We have work to do today, liar.” Yumi was daunted by the number of towns she’d visited but couldn’t name. She was a servant of the people of Torio; shouldn’t she b...
said, walking around him as he knelt in the open-sided shrine. “If you want to end this, you must do what I cannot. Beyond that, there are consequences—rarely implemented—for a yoki-hijo who cannot serve. We are in danger of provoking Liyun to extreme measures, which will make it impossible for us to accomplish our goa...
clipper?” “Levity,” she said, “is not becoming of a yoki-hijo. Your duty is to our people. To make light of your position is to make light of their lives.” “It’s a shame then,” he said gravely, “that their lives are all so (lowly) ridiculous that mockery is inevitable.” “Enough!” she shouted, pointing at him. “You will...
Now that she was centered, she sensed him pulling on her. She cracked an eye; his own eyes were closed, but he was smiling, his mouth twitching. “You’re thinking about something,” she said to him. “I can’t help thinking,” he complained. “I don’t want to stop, regardless. I like thinking about things.” “You will control...
who could do what she couldn’t. Painter might not be a hero…but he might be a prodigy. That would explain why they’d picked him. She was now confident that he’d prove to be a natural at stacking, blessed with talent beyond her own even though he’d never known it on his world. The answer was so obvious it made her smile...
to relocate. The foreman would put it together, right? Maybe he should check in anyway. Make certain the Dreamwatch had arrived and everything was under control. It wasn’t his problem, now that he’d reported it, but he kept remembering that little boy with blood on his cheek from the nightmare’s claws. He at least want...
stepped over and pulled open the door. He showed her the knobs on the shower, which she turned. Then she yelped, her eyes wide as the water sprayed down. “You have a geyser,” she said. “But…the water seems cold?” “It will warm,” he said. “Unless Mrs. Shinja used it all up again—avoid showering at nine in the morning, u...
the last bus home, but—considering all of this—at least she made more sense to him now. “How is it,” she asked, her voice echoing, “that your people have captured this geyser and channeled it to your will?” “It’s not a geyser. It’s water pumped from the lake, filtered and heated.” “Pumped? Are there people working thos...
him for a loop. She had put on some trousers underneath that as well, which was good he supposed. But… Wow. The total effect was truly something. “Do women actually go out like this?” she asked him. “Among your people? Wearing trousers?” “Not exactly like this…” he said. “Um, you realize that’s…a shirt, not a skirt.” “...
“Whatever grabbed me came from the sky, and scientists say there are people there. It’s a planet like ours—they’ve taken pictures of what look like small cities, but they’re vague, too far away to make out much. Whoever lives there doesn’t seem to have radios or anything. They’re…not as advanced as we are.” She didn’t ...

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