He weakly rolls his head toward us and I’d swear he also recognizes me. But he doesn’t react.
Paules starts to address Reges, but when he realizes she’s staring slackly through the window, turns to me.
“I bring water when I can. He’s too weak to speak, anymore.”
Unshouldering my backpack, I inspect the clamps. They don’t have locks. Instead, they’ve been fastened to the rock by metal nails driven through plates that extend on either side. Whoever did this meant for it to be permanent, Egan slowly wasting away while watching whatever unfolded below.
“I’m so sorry,” Reges says. “I didn’t know.”
The bay window shows the Ancient room below us. It’s startlingly intact, seems like a research or manufacturing bay. The indecipherable remains of equipment lie broken on the floor, bathed in pel
