Something comes at us very fast out of the dust.

  tell her to stop, Gray says, with maybe a hint of urgency in his dolorous tone.

  "Stop!" I shout, a bit squeakier than I would have liked.

  The shape halts instantly. The dust keeps billowing outward, washing over us, and I cough and wave it away. Those two red eyes twinkle in the gloom.

  "Murder?" the voice says hesitantly.

  The air finally clears. The statue of a woman has become … a woman. She looks young, a head shorter than me and slightly built. Her eyes are big and innocent, but the pupils are blood-red and glowing from within. Her head is bald as an egg, the gleam of her bare scalp dulling as dust settles back across it.

  Her face looks perfectly human, apart from the glowing eyes. The rest of her -- I start to do the averting-my-gaze-to-protect-her-modesty-while-still-peeking gesture, then pause. She looks … not like a statue, exactly, her skin is ordinary unweathered pink skin, but there's a certain lack of detail, like a doll's anatomy.

  An epigolem, apparently. Whatever that is.

  "Please, um, don't murder me."

  "Murder." She nods emphatically and holds up one hand. Where a hand used to be, anyway; instead her forearm now tapers smoothly to a foot-long metallic blade. She steps forward.

  "Stop!" I squeak again.

  She halts, brow furrowing. Her eyes look hurt.

  Gray speaks in my mind. she has just awoken and is still assimilating new information. also, language has changed somewhat since her time. she will adapt, but for the moment try to restrict yourself to straightforward imperative commands.

  "Murder never changes, apparently," I say out of the corner of my mouth. "Also, ?"

  your blood awoke her. you are her operator. she is now bound to you, and she will obey your orders to the best of her understanding and ability. both will improve the longer she serves you.

  "Will she listen to you?"

  i cannot speak to her.

  "Why not?"

  she is not human.

  Mad wizard logic, I guess. But good to know. The part of me that's not terrified files that away for future reference; Gray can't countermand my orders to this … creature. Assuming he's not lying through his fossilized teeth, of course.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Mercy is still staring at me curiously. I pat my chest.

  "Protect. Me," I enunciate. "First order. Most important. Do you understand?"

  She gives a cheerful nod. I guess that's progress. I point at myself.

  "Kal," I tell her, in the voice reserved for speaking to children and deaf elderly aunts. "Kal." Then I point at her. "Mercy?"

  She nods again, excitedly. "Murder!"

  "No --"

  i believe that was a general expression of positive sentiment.

  "Murder murder," Mercy explains.

  "This is your weapon," I say to the skull dubiously.

   weapon.

  "Sure, great." I eye her thoughtfully. "You think she can get rid of the trappist?"

  certainly.

  I have to admit I'm a bit skeptical. I'd been frightened before, but the girl looks like a stiff breeze would bowl her over. She can't be more than half my weight. Being able to turn her hands into knives is a neat trick, but I don't see that it will make the difference against a giant insect.

  Still, Gray presumably knows what he's doing. She can at least distract the thing while I make my escape.

  "So back upstairs?" I say, legs aching at the thought.

  yes.

  "Maybe we should rest up first. I'm getting sore, and she was just barely reactivated." I lean forward. "Rest? Do you need a minute?"

  "Murder!"

  there is no time.

  "I wasn't aware we were on a clock."

  there is only one source of water for many miles, and it is steadily receding.

  "Receding … you mean the ?"

  yes.

  "You know I risked certain death to get from it, don't you?"

  and you will return to it with mercy by your side.

  "That's crazy."

  it is your only chance. i did warn you that your survival was unlikely. you coerced me into this, i recall.

  "But --"

  if you would rather die of thirst, i request that you return me to my stone beforehand.

  "I thought you said dying of thirst was off the table!"

  i exaggerated. dying is always on the table.

  ***

  So we climb back up. My knees hate me more with every step. Mercy bounds along with all the energy of an excited toddler. I keep the knife from her room; the handle is thin and uncomfortable, probably meant to be wrapped in leather, but I can attest to the edge, and carrying kind of weapon makes me feel better. With my off hand I use Gray to light our path.

  hardly the most dignified role.

  "Shush."

  "Murder!"

  Finally we return to the corridor I'd initially fled down. A low hillock of sand half-blocks the doorway, just as I remember. I can't see the trappist from here, but it has to be somewhere in the low-lit chamber beyond. I have no idea how much time has passed, but the light filtering down has taken on the blue-white tint of the nightsun.

  "Okay." I feel compelled to whisper as we crouch behind the sand. "Listen carefully."

  "Murder."

  "In that room is a giant insect."

  "Murder."

  "I want you to go in there and kill it."

  Mercy frowns again, as though aware of her poor comprehension. She points across the sand and says, "Murder?"

  "Yes. Please murder the giant bug. But that's all." I have a vision of her running off into the night to slaughter everyone she meets. "Come back to me when you're done. Do you understand?"

  The smile that spreads across her face is as joyful and beatific as a nun laying eyes on the face of her god. Her eyes shine like I've given her the greatest gift in the world.

  Then she vaults the barrier of sand, screaming at the top of her lungs.

  ""