Eureka knew from The Book of Love that Selene and Leander escaped Atlantis with Ovid and the baby girl stowed inside their ship. But that had been ages ago.
If the robot can be replaced, she asked, why wasnt it done long ago?
For the first time Delphine looked upon her coldly. Eureka lost her breath.
It cannot simply be replaced like a lover, Delphine said. My robots require the darkest materials to come into being. But that wouldnt have been in your book, would it? Neither would our fate after the flood. Selene missed all that, too. You dont know what Woe was like, how we were stagnant beneath the ocean for millennia. Only our minds could move. Try to fathom the insanity that brews in one who must endure such impotence. Every Atlantean suffered, all because he dared to break my heart.
Leander.
Never say his name. Delphine repeated Atlass rule. Eureka now wondered if it was actually the ghostsmiths rule. Was she the source of all Atlantean darkness?
Delphine smoothed her hair. She inhaled deeply. Theres not much time. The replacement must be ready in time to catch the final ghosts.
How many souls are still alive? Eureka asked.
Seventy-three million, twelve thousand, eight hundred, and six, the robot Lucretius called.
I must finish before sunrise. Delphine gestured toward the opposite end of the wave, where no nuance of sunset remained in the sky. When the morning light is centered there, our homeless ghosts will find their shelter.
She took a seat at an already spinning potters wheel. Behind her, near the arching back of the wave, a tall golden loom displayed a half-woven square of shimmery blue fabric. Lightning flashed across itmore of Delphines agony.
Gilgamesh, Delphine called. More orichalcum.
One of the shoveling robots reached inside the pit and retrieved a huge, glowing red mass. As he carried it to Delphine, it cooled in the misty air to the silver of orichalcum. He eased it onto Delphines spinning wheel.
Her bare foot pumped the pedal, whirling the plate faster. The tempo of the song that had been playing throughout the waveshop sped up. It was melancholy and beautiful, all minor chords.
This wheel generates the music that keeps the waveshop from crashing in on itself, Delphine said. It must be wound frequently, like a clock.
As her hands glided through the fiery mass of orichalcum, it sizzled and softened into the consistency of clay. A muscular calf began to take shape.
Youre sculpting the robot, Eureka said.
Delphine nodded. Do you know the nature of orichalcum?
Eureka knew that the lachrymatory, the anchor, the chest of artemisia, thespear and sheath that Ander had taken from the Seedbearers, and Ovid had been the only orichalcum in the Waking World. I know its precious.
But you dont know why? Delphine said.
Things are precious when theyre hard to come by, Eureka said.
This made Delphine smile. Long ago, I began an experiment: Grind the flesh and bones of my conquests into fine powder. Add heat and a gelatinous enzyme from the Cnidariayou call it a jellyfishwhile it is still in the medusa stage. Much like the stare of my snake-maned friend, the medusa enzyme transforms ordinary corpse powder into the most durable and lovely element in the world. She caressed the orichalcum leg on her wheel. And I transform that into whatever I please. I have mined orichalcum in this manner since before Atlantis sank. Atlass empirical conquests used to provide the bodies. Now your tears have given me endless material to work with. By sunrise, all that will be left to do is convert the living into ghosts.
What happens at sunrise? Eureka asked casually, though she wanted to scream.
The survivors are preparing arks. A community in Turkey has long anticipated a flood. Perhaps you know of them? The living are traveling there from around the world to board their ships. We can see them in the water map. This is convenient, because it gathers all the living souls in one place. We must stage the final apocalypse before they disperse again across the seas.
Eureka met Delphines eyes. They were so dark she could see her face reflected in them. Thats why Atlas wants more tears.
Yes. Delphine gestured over her shoulder, lighting the space behind her. What looked like a cross between a medieval catapult and a futuristic rocket launcher sharpened into view. The rest of my cannons are in Atlass armory, but I keep an early model here. She rose from her wheel, lifted the cannons hatch, and withdrew a palm-sized crystal globe. A single crystal shell, armed with one of your tears, will do thirty-six times the damage of your worlds nuclear bombs.
But Im not going to cry, Eureka said.
Of course you are. Delphine returned the crystal globe to the cannon with care. Youre unsettled by Atlass mistake with the lightning cloak. But no one will harm youever again. She caressed Eurekas hair. We must all make sacrifices. Your tears are your contribution, though you may choose what makes them flow.
No.
Surely you have enough to cry aboutDelphine tilted her headlosing your greatest love so recently? Remember, I know how you feel. I had my heart broken, too.
If the robot can be replaced, she asked, why wasnt it done long ago?
For the first time Delphine looked upon her coldly. Eureka lost her breath.
It cannot simply be replaced like a lover, Delphine said. My robots require the darkest materials to come into being. But that wouldnt have been in your book, would it? Neither would our fate after the flood. Selene missed all that, too. You dont know what Woe was like, how we were stagnant beneath the ocean for millennia. Only our minds could move. Try to fathom the insanity that brews in one who must endure such impotence. Every Atlantean suffered, all because he dared to break my heart.
Leander.
Never say his name. Delphine repeated Atlass rule. Eureka now wondered if it was actually the ghostsmiths rule. Was she the source of all Atlantean darkness?
Delphine smoothed her hair. She inhaled deeply. Theres not much time. The replacement must be ready in time to catch the final ghosts.
How many souls are still alive? Eureka asked.
Seventy-three million, twelve thousand, eight hundred, and six, the robot Lucretius called.
I must finish before sunrise. Delphine gestured toward the opposite end of the wave, where no nuance of sunset remained in the sky. When the morning light is centered there, our homeless ghosts will find their shelter.
She took a seat at an already spinning potters wheel. Behind her, near the arching back of the wave, a tall golden loom displayed a half-woven square of shimmery blue fabric. Lightning flashed across itmore of Delphines agony.
Gilgamesh, Delphine called. More orichalcum.
One of the shoveling robots reached inside the pit and retrieved a huge, glowing red mass. As he carried it to Delphine, it cooled in the misty air to the silver of orichalcum. He eased it onto Delphines spinning wheel.
Her bare foot pumped the pedal, whirling the plate faster. The tempo of the song that had been playing throughout the waveshop sped up. It was melancholy and beautiful, all minor chords.
This wheel generates the music that keeps the waveshop from crashing in on itself, Delphine said. It must be wound frequently, like a clock.
As her hands glided through the fiery mass of orichalcum, it sizzled and softened into the consistency of clay. A muscular calf began to take shape.
Youre sculpting the robot, Eureka said.
Delphine nodded. Do you know the nature of orichalcum?
Eureka knew that the lachrymatory, the anchor, the chest of artemisia, thespear and sheath that Ander had taken from the Seedbearers, and Ovid had been the only orichalcum in the Waking World. I know its precious.
But you dont know why? Delphine said.
Things are precious when theyre hard to come by, Eureka said.
This made Delphine smile. Long ago, I began an experiment: Grind the flesh and bones of my conquests into fine powder. Add heat and a gelatinous enzyme from the Cnidariayou call it a jellyfishwhile it is still in the medusa stage. Much like the stare of my snake-maned friend, the medusa enzyme transforms ordinary corpse powder into the most durable and lovely element in the world. She caressed the orichalcum leg on her wheel. And I transform that into whatever I please. I have mined orichalcum in this manner since before Atlantis sank. Atlass empirical conquests used to provide the bodies. Now your tears have given me endless material to work with. By sunrise, all that will be left to do is convert the living into ghosts.
What happens at sunrise? Eureka asked casually, though she wanted to scream.
The survivors are preparing arks. A community in Turkey has long anticipated a flood. Perhaps you know of them? The living are traveling there from around the world to board their ships. We can see them in the water map. This is convenient, because it gathers all the living souls in one place. We must stage the final apocalypse before they disperse again across the seas.
Eureka met Delphines eyes. They were so dark she could see her face reflected in them. Thats why Atlas wants more tears.
Yes. Delphine gestured over her shoulder, lighting the space behind her. What looked like a cross between a medieval catapult and a futuristic rocket launcher sharpened into view. The rest of my cannons are in Atlass armory, but I keep an early model here. She rose from her wheel, lifted the cannons hatch, and withdrew a palm-sized crystal globe. A single crystal shell, armed with one of your tears, will do thirty-six times the damage of your worlds nuclear bombs.
But Im not going to cry, Eureka said.
Of course you are. Delphine returned the crystal globe to the cannon with care. Youre unsettled by Atlass mistake with the lightning cloak. But no one will harm youever again. She caressed Eurekas hair. We must all make sacrifices. Your tears are your contribution, though you may choose what makes them flow.
No.
Surely you have enough to cry aboutDelphine tilted her headlosing your greatest love so recently? Remember, I know how you feel. I had my heart broken, too.
