I emerge from the grotto’s entrance pool. Light-collecting geodes illuminate the walls, and luminescent algae and plankton shimmer across the rippling water. In the common room, Three stands in front of an open maintenance kit on the table. Fred ceases its pacing by the training pool and focuses on me.

“Did you give Bastien the medicine?”

I step onto the rocky shore. “Yes, the Coordinator has received all acquired medicines. He and the Head Warden will see to their proper application. One will remain with the Commissioner through the night.” I walk to Three’s side.

Behind me, Fred nods. “Good. Good.” It crosses its arms and resumes pacing.

Three focuses on me. The plating around its jaw line is abraded. Its knuckles are scored, but green energy pulses through the etchings in its boulderwood chassis without trouble. Its back is scorched, but the bands of sigils across its cerasteel plates remain intact. Unlit etchings near the horizontal center of Three’s spinal plates earn my notice.

Three selects a stiff-bristled brush from the kit and puts its free hand palm-down on the table. “I eluded the last of them only four blocks away from her office building. My pursuers had little more than crossbows and polearms at their disposal, unlike the first waves of security. I would have rather had you on watch duty with me than on escort, Seven.” It starts scrubbing its knuckles. “They used acid sprays, alchemical smoke, fire staves… You would have reveled in the challenge.”

I look over the contents of the case. Three may use half a vial of infusion gel on itself. It may even require a full conformant block. The resistance I encountered seems light in comparison; I need none of these agents. My classmates proved their worth while the Commissioner dealt with the Alchemist. Personally ensuring the Commissioner’s success, no matter how circuitously, should have been an honor.

“One assigned me to my place; I must stand by its decision.”

“Yes. Well, One is not flawless.” Three returns its attention to self-repair and becomes silent.

Of course, One is not perfect. None of us are perfect. Since our activation, though, One has had the most frequent and extensive contact with the Commissioner. It has always been the classmate to direct the rest of us. I could suppose that, as One spends more and more time with the Commissioner or the Coordinator than with us, Three could be aware of some situation that the rest of us are not. I lack the imaginative reasoning required to describe why Three’s otherwise obvious statement requires mention.

The soft splash and glowing white form of a classmate emerging from the entrance pool interrupts my concern. Four exits the stream and surveys the grotto.

“One, Two, and Five have not returned?” it asks none of us in particular.

In focus, Four’s damaged state is much clearer, though markedly less extensive than Three’s. On its shoulders is an empty, soaked canvas pack similar to the one Two and Five delivered to me shortly before my exit from Daishen’s office. Fred, without altering its course, recounts my update before I get the chance.

Four walks to the table and drops its pack underneath. “They left with their satchel long before I did. Why were they not driven to the manor?” It selects a scalpel and a vial of black gel before it sits on the floor next to Three.

Fred continues to pace in the sparring pool as it answers. “After Three brought the supplies to the wagon, Bastien just insisted on returning to the manor and preparing the Commissioner’s recovery room as soon as possible.” It holds up its hands and shrugs. “I tried to stop him, to convince him to wait for the rest of you, but he wouldn’t listen.”

Three slams its brush back into the case. “I fail to believe he could listen to us if he wanted to.” It picks up a hook and digs into the crevices of its hand.

I distract myself by continuing to diagnose Three’s injuries. I decide to withhold my comment, as this sentiment is apparently novel to me alone.

When I delivered the medicines, I tried to get some answers from the Coordinator regarding his premature retreat from the Mystic Prefecture. His response was not sentimental.

“You and your classmates are exceptional assets. You solve our problems, and you follow our orders. But make no mistake; I would not hesitate to dispense of each and all of you to ensure my family’s survival.”

Has the Coordinator reached this conclusion on his own, or has he gleaned our value from the Commissioner? One was present during the conversation, yet offered no rebuttal to the Coordinator’s assessment. Could that be the lack of perfection Three suggested?

I finally identify the source of the diminished glow as a disfigured cluster of ambient siphon symbols carved into Three’s chassis. Although the damage does not seem critical, the affected cluster does slow the flow of arcane infusion into and away from the site. Even the sigils on the nearby plate do not glow correctly.

I select my instruments and vials as I relay the information to Three.

Three leans forward and continues its task. “Take an hour or a day, Seven; just do what you need to do. We will all quite likely see few missions before the Commissioner recovers.”

Silent seconds pass until Fred walks to Four and assists it. Once I finish the first phase of repairing and infusing Three’s broken sigils, I switch to fixing its physical damage. I decide to interrupt the tense air of tedious scraping and clicking with a mundane conversational topic.

“I saw the Commissioner’s daughter tonight.”

Fred turns its head to me. “Oh!” It refocuses on its task. “Whoof. I doubt the Commissioner appreciates you making yourself known to her.”

“He had no choice in the matter. One, too, was present, though I believe its appearance was no less of a surprise to her than mine.”

Three holds a hollow scalpel and a vial of black gel over her shoulder. “Do you believe the girl truly has no knowledge of the Commissioner’s extralegal activities? The Heir discovered his deeds when he was not much older than she is.”

I exchange tools with Three and resume work on its damaged cluster. “She showed neither malice nor fear upon seeing me.”

Three places the tools in the kit. “She may not be wise enough to do either.”

Fred shakes its head as it works on the base of Four’s neck. “I prefer more folks not see us as mere instruments of—”

“SECAs!” The muffled shout cries out again, its sound bouncing around the grotto’s walls. “SECAs, assemble!”

The four of us pause. Such a demand is uncharacteristic for even Five, whose speech is usually laced with indifference. Three, Four, Fred, and I rush to the entrance pool.

Plant and coral life cast a soft, teal glow over this final incline of the grotto’s channel. Five comes slowly around the bend twenty feet away. Faint violet light courses across its body, but disappears under a long black object it carries over its left shoulder. Five takes an unsteady step toward us.

Fred drops into the tunnel. I follow, knowing I would be unable to assist until the passage widens closer to Five and its burden.

Five shifts the object into its arms. Five is missing its right arm from its hand almost to its elbow.

“Take Two!”

The water crushes against me as I try to do Five’s bidding. I barely recognize the form draped across Five’s arms.

Two is missing its entire left arm. Through a deep gash in its upper torso, I glimpse a violet pulse. Two’s right leg hangs at a new angle partway up the thigh. That foot is missing, as well.

I brush past Fred and trudge toward our classmates with open arms. When Five transfers Two’s stiff form to me, I see a fractured dent in the latter’s left shoulder. I peer over Two’s face and head, unsure of my search’s goal, but desperate for its success.

A spiderweb-like pattern spreads across the rear right side of Two’s head like a crater. Fragments of cerasteel are missing from the impact site.

Not a single burst of blue light flickers across its body.

I turn to the grotto proper. Fred assists Five and follows. I emerge from the waterway to find Three and Four carrying the maintenance kit into Two’s alcove. They set it down on the center of the smoothed rock floor.

Three turns to me. “Where should we start?”

I lay Two flat on its back next to the kit. I try not to disturb its broken leg.

Five limps into Two’s alcove with its damaged arm around Fred’s shoulders. “Ambush,” it grunts. “Diatine weapons. Glaive and maul.”

Fred hisses. “Shit.” It sits our classmate against the wall on the other side of the repair kit.

Three and Four select tools and vials to begin repairing Five. Four asks Five questions while Fred and I crouch over Two to assess its extensive damage.

“When did they attack you?”

“After the exchange.”

“How many?”

“Fi-ive. Almost pitiful before the diatine.”

“Did they have magic?”

“Alchemy. Froze Two’s foot. Obs-scured our sight.”

“How did you escape?”

Five focuses on Four. Its fractured voice diminishes in volume with each word. “Killed... all. Sewers to... bay. Followed... coast.”

Fred stands and holds one hand at Four. “Save the rest of your questions for later, Four? I doubt Five will want to repeat it all over to One.”

The flash of Three’s sigils lights the wall behind it. “It wouldn’t need to do so if One were already down here with us!”

Fred sighs. “Your point is made, Three, but One has to attend to the Commissioner in his time of—”

“The Commissioner has healing solutions and an old elf that has tended to his family’s ailments for generations. He has his regular security and the Komargus Accords to protect him. Two and Five need One down here—”

I settle onto my knees. “Two does not need it.”

All sensors focus on me in silence. The attention and my findings unsettle me. I rock backward from my knees and sit.

“Absent body parts notwithstanding, Two’s chassis and armor are both damaged beyond practical repair. I have hardly seen so many clusters gouged so deeply.” I point at Two’s misshapen leg. “Cerasteel plating alone holds that limb together. That boulderwood cleavage would require more skill to repair than any of us possess.” I turn to Five. “Even if I could attach and harmonize a suitable replacement, the deformation to Two’s cranial clusters is potentially ir…”

I pause. My classmates wait. If they cannot infer my discovery, they will need to know it. If they can infer it, they would want me, before anyone else, to confirm it. I want to keep my discovery to myself so that it would remain a simple suspicion to them.

Once I say it, it will be as good as the truth.

“The deformation to Two’s cranial clusters is potentially irreparable.”

Fred covers the sides of its head and slumps.

Three focuses on Two, then back on me. “How can you be so certain if you won’t even try?”

“We do not have the material or the expertise to perform repairs of this magnitude.”

Five fitfully raises a hand to point across the sparring pool, toward the eastern sea. “The Creator?”

Fred lowers Five’s arm. “Even if we could get the Creator to fix Two’s body, there’s no guarantee that we get our Two back.”

Four looks down at Two. “You could be wrong. There are no settled accounts of sapient constructs possessing souls, but the principles of fixing a body to revive a mind may—”

Three drives a fist into a rocky wall. “We waste time theorizing metaphysics. Our time would be better spent trying to fix our classmate.

Four and Five voice their agreement.

Fred and I turn slightly to each other instead of focusing on Three. An idea occurs to me that I believe occurs to Fred, as well.

No matter how much effort we put forth, Two is, at best, lost to the Evers. Three and Five do not seem to understand. I doubt even I fully comprehend the possibility of a classmate’s… cessation?

As for Four, Three is right; it can debate with Fred later. Some kind of action is required now, if only to distance ourselves from the gravity of our situation.

I turn from Fred in the second after our gazes meet. “I agree. We should start with repairing Five.”

Fred puts a hand on Five’s shoulder. “Where did you leave the bodies? We need to clear the site of those weapons to keep this from happening again.”

Five strains to speak. “Sewers… Prefecture. Four blocks south...”

I rush from Two to Five. “That must suffice.” I take the scalpel and vial from Three; before it protests, I say, “Go with Fred to search the area. Four and I will remain to keep Five functioning.”

Three stands so I can kneel in its place. “What of One?”

“We cannot risk exposure to the uninformed any more than we already have. Also, it is as you said: One has chosen its position.”

I begin reshaping the symbols around Five’s stump of an arm. Three walks out of Two’s alcove. Fred acts as if to follow, but puts a hand on my shoulder and leans toward me.

“I’ll try to talk with Three.”

I do not pause in my work. “I wish you luck.”

I feel selfish as Fred leaves the grotto. My parting words were not merely for Three’s benefit; I may require a similar discussion with Fred soon, as well.