Eos and Anesi did not manage to escape to the deck without being caught.

  Eos wished she could remember the names of those who’d caught them. She’d tried to learn names, as each face flooded past, but they began to elude her — but these faces, however, she did remember. The thin, blonde man and quick-footed woman who had served her from dinner.

  “Ah,” Eos started, “How good to see y—“

  “House Nixie would like to show you to your rooms, now,” said the woman.

  Eos blinked.

  “Well, our rooms are upon our ship, just about that way—“

  “Aboard the Chance,” said the man. He didn’t seem all that apologetic, blinking like a bird at them. Ah. He probably had places to be. It was unlikely their schedule had planned for several pirate invaders and two new guests.

  Eos glanced at Anesi who was already scowling, and then smiled back at the man and woman.

  Best not to fight.

  “Lead the way.”

  —

  Luxurious. Eos could expound for paragraphs and paragraphs about the forms of luxury the rooms took, but two things made their strongest impression — the lights, and the fabric.

  The entire room was lit. Brightly light. Coming from the Lucifer, with its dusty, wooden edges shrouded in the shadowing of a single swinging lamp-light, Eos was stunned silent in the presence of a crystal chandelier. The room’s ceiling swept up like a beautiful tent with a massive dangling light. The metalwork spiraled out in the shape of the crashing ocean, the glowing crystals making up the foaming crest of each wave.

  And the fabric…

  Gossamer fabric draped from the chandelier to the walls. They were in an array of colors, sheer and soft and diffusing light all around the room. Eos breathed in softly. They made the shadows of the room dance like she and Anesi were underwater.

  There were new, soft clothes waiting for them on the bed. Eos ran her fingers over all of them, marveling quietly — what was the thread count? What were the materials, the techniques, the hours of labor and the hundreds of generations of knowledge poured into them? Eos couldn’t recognize some of the fabrics, and that made her heart ache. Maybe if she’d finished her education…

  No matter, now. Anesi was ready to sleep.

  Eos helped her onto the massive bed she’d been given. It waved and wobbled. The whole thing looked like a dewdrop, some strange, bubble-like suspension holding up a bed of water.

  Once Anesi was situated (and stopped bobbing up and down), Eos propped open the door that — apparently — conjoined the two rooms they’d been provided. Conjoined rooms. Huh! How much easier would life be on the Lucifer if they had something like that?

  “Don’t even think about it,” Anesi signed as Eos tucked her in. “If you touch a single plank on my ship I’ll make you sorry.”

  “Already sorry to have thought it,” Eos signed, laughing. She set Elpis on the nightstand.

  “No,” Anesi signed.

  “No?” Eos asked, adjusting the angle.

  “No. Take her with you.”

  Eos raised an eyebrow. “Are you feeling alright? You’re not usually so grumpy you want to be completely alone.”

  “I am today,” Anesi signed. She shuffled into bed, “…Take her. You did well today.”

  Eos’s eyes lit up. “Is that right? Did I see correctly—“

  “Stop your gloating or I’ll change my mind.”

  “Noted, Captain, noted.”

  Carefully, reverently, Eos picked up the box. It was always lighter than she thought. It wasn’t like it was made of air or feathers, but rather of a balanced heft. Something Eos could weigh in her arm. Something she felt like tossing, playfully, like a ball to another player — or juggling to make a child laugh.

  Eos let her fingers close over the box. She could almost feel Elpis giggling.

  “What say we have a little sleepover, you and I, Elpis?” Eos said.

  And Elpis couldn’t respond, for she was dead, but Eos didn’t mind. It was something to be jealous of. Eos wished she could sleep as peacefully as the dead.

  “Alright, right over here…”

  Anesi was asleep much sooner than Eos was. As soon as she could figure out how to shut off the chandelier she did so and dropped straight into the land of dreams. Eos was fairly sure of it. Anesi was snoring the way she did when she was well and truly asleep, and not faking it to get Eos to leave her alone.

  Eos settled herself on the carpeted floor in front of Elpis. The box had fit neatly on the nightstand, illuminated in the faint light of the small tableside lamp Eos had taken an embarrassingly long time to figure out how to light.

  “Would you look at that,” Eos murmured. “Not a single light here with a flame.”

  It was always safer, of course, to have a ship in space with a flameless light. Too much risk of sharing the same tragic fate as the Leviathan. But not everyone could afford fireless lights. Not everyone could afford safety.

  Eos held her hands over the lamp. Cold.

  Even with all its danger, she missed the warmth of firelight.

  Eos instead turned her palms to each other and clasped them tight. She couldn’t warm herself fast enough. Was there any worse feeling in the world than being cold?

  Eos closed her eyes and breathed over her fingers, bowing her head over Elpis’s box. She could crawl under the lovely, thick sheets and shut out the cold after she prayed.

  “I’m grateful for the hopes that have been realized,” Eos murmured, touching one palm to the box and then the back of the same hand to her forehead. “For myself and for others. I come with more hopes yet.”

  What a blessing that Elpis’s home wasn’t made of metal or stone. The wood was cool to the touch, but not cold. Eos cracked open her eyes. On the lid was a carving.

  A dragon, twisting along the sky. It didn’t fly like any dragon Eos knew. And Naguya Tan had many dragons:

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  Quick, zippy prey-dragons.

  Thick, strong work-dragons.

  Territorial, bloated snuffling-dragons.

  And great, big ancient dragons, soaring through the stars, living off the cosmic dust left behind thousands of years ago.

  The dragon on the lid looked like none of these.

  Anesi never spoke on it, but Eos always assumed it was of Elpis.

  Maybe-Elpis looked different. Her body was twisted languidly across the sky, looking as if she was resting on a thousand soft-curled clouds polished smooth by years of handling. There was no snarl on her face — just a happily drawn-back smile, if dragons could have those. Eos rested the tip of her finger on the jaw. Anesi had even carved her teeth. All the better to smile and bite with.

  “One day, you’ll be back to your former glory,” Eos murmured to her. “Sworn and promised, or tarnish on my name.”

  Elpis, of course, could not respond, as she was dead.

  But Eos swore it, all the same.

  The lights had been dimmed for less than two hours when there sounded a knock at the door. Sharp, quick, demanding. It seemed to hold some level of urgency. Eos would be quicker to jump up if she wasn’t so disoriented and disarmed by the comfort of the bed.

  “I surely hope this isn’t an alarm,” Eos muttered to no one in particular. Or Elpis, maybe. “Entirely… Too polite, and I am far too comfortable to be evacuating anywhere…”

  Eos opened the door.

  “What do you know about Challenges?” Iris blurted.

  Eos blinked. She blinked again for good measure.

  “Have you never had guests before?” Eos asked.

  Iris puffed up. “I mean it!” she said. “I — I’ve been thinking.”

  Eos leaned on the doorway and crossed her arms, smiling down at Iris. “Is that right? Do I get to become privy to these important thoughts at this very hour?”

  “It’s not my fault you’re old and need to sleep early like you’re forty or something,” Iris scoffed. “… You never answered my question.”

  “You’re good at catching that,” Eos said. It was hard to decide if how impressive the observation was outweighed how annoying it was. “I do, indeed, know about Challenges. As would anyone as desperate as myself.”

  “Good!” Iris said. “There’s a Challenge with names up for grabs, right now.”

  “Names?” Eos exclaimed. She shouldn’t bite when Iris was obviously fishing, but… “Two?”

  “Two,” Iris confirmed, nodding, tapping her foot impatiently. She kept checking over her shoulder, scratching at her arms. Little bug was sneaking out past her bedtime, wasn’t she? Eos shook her head, laughing to herself.

  “This seems like a long story,” Eos said, moving aside and opening the door. “Come inside.”

  “Finally!” Iris burst. You’d think Iris thought Eos had no manners, from the way she said it.

  Eos rolled her eyes and closed the door after Iris, who was already jumping to sit onto her bed. “Alright,” she said. “Spin me your tale of two names.”

  “There’s a Challenge,” Iris said. “For Chrysopteros and Oulios.”

  “Golden-winged and — of sound health.” Eos raised her eyebrows. “You want to be a little angel?”

  “No!” Iris said. “Well — whatever. I just want the wings.”

  “They might not be wings,” Eos said, tapping her finger to her chin. “Golden-winged. What if that just means you’ll become a quick runner? Or light to carry? Or—“

  “You’re wrong and don’t know what you’re talking about,” Iris said haughtily, nose scrunching. “I bet it’s wings. But it doesn’t matter. I just need a name. But you — you’d want that second one, don’t you?”

  Iris’s contempt faded away for something else. Some hard-set determination furrowing her brow. It made Eos lean in to listen.

  “If you take it,” Iris said. “Then — you could heal from almost anything. Come back totally brand new. You could fight dozens of pirates and won’t end up with scars again.”

  Eos touched her wrist. Such a bad habit — such a useless action — but something compelled her to touch it nonetheless.

  “Heal anything?” Eos pulled her fingers away, shaking her head. Her hair was still damp. Her body was growing tired and ever more cold with her being unable to slip away into sleep under the blankets. She turned to walk to her side of the bed, shooing at Iris to get off the bed.

  “I don’t know, bug. High promises. Very grand promises. I’ve been made many promises before, and not many of them pan out on faith alone. I have a destination promised already…”

  “I need this,” Iris said. “I need you to fly me to the Challenge. To accept it, and all the locations it’ll take place. Secretly. And the Challenge requires a partner! You could be my partner, and we can split the winnings, and I could pay you —“

  “— and we could die before we even accept the Challenge. It could take a very long time. Some Challenges take years. And you’ll be away from your mother.”

  “She’ll be okay with it! She — she already said yes!”

  “Your doting mother? I don’t think so,” Eos tutted. “And even if she did, bug, you’re still young. I’d be irresponsible to say yes. Besides, you have enough talent, and money, and drive — you could get a name eventually. Maybe something like… beautiful-haired, or quick-handed, or—“

  “You’ll never get another chance,” Iris said. Her voice cracked.

  Eos slowed. As Iris’s voice turned, it flashed its belly at her, quivering and vulnerable. “This could be your only chance to get a name for yourself. Actually get it. Not wait for the universe to think you’re worthy, whatever that means. Not wait around for luck to come save you. To grab it yourself.”

  Eos reached up and touched her Namesake bead. Rhododactylos.

  It no longer rested on her cloak chain — she’d long since shed her cloak to sleep — but the bead persisted. In would materialize in her hand, in her pocket, between her fingers. Tonight, Eos remembered to tie a cord to her neck. It decided to rest there, right over her throat. After all, names couldn’t stray far from what they named.

  ‘Could be her only chance.’

  Should be, Eos thinks. No one in the universe ever got so lucky to meet an empyrean and be gifted a name.

  No, not even empyreans. Anesi shouldn’t have been able to gift her something like this. But back then, Anesi had been Anesi Rhododactylos, with the power to give and to take. Back then, Eos had happily received.

  Oulios. Bringer of health.

  What could a name like that do, for Anesi?

  “… I’d be the only one who had a chance?” Eos asked. Her voice tilted, pointed. Iris wasn’t talking about Eos. It was folly to pretend they both didn’t know it.

  Iris grimaced and looked away.

  Eos’s eyes laid on Elpis’s box. Elpis was smiling back up at her.

  Hah. Cheeky goddess.

  Here’s to her hopes, and the hopes of others, right?

  Eos picked up the box and turned around. She could see Iris’s eyes fall onto it instantly — that same mysterious draw pulling her in. Eos couldn’t help but wonder what exactly it was Iris was hoping for.

  “Show me to your mother,” Eos said. “Let’s see what she has to say.”

  Eos would be lying if she said she wasn’t curious about the state of Lady Sionna Nixie’s room. Richest woman in the system, as far as anyone could tell — certainly the biggest spender. No one had more ships, moons, staff, or repute of wealth.

  But Iris was not taking her towards what Eos assumed was the Captain’s quarters — instead, they were winding down a side hall, one glazed in the hazy, false-night lighting meant to keep circadian rhythms in check.

  Eos held Elpis out in front of her. Like a religious relic, yes, but also just in case Elpis could see out of her wooden eyes. She might be dead, but it would be rude not to try.

  “Mama’s busy,” Iris explained, as if she could read Eos’s mind. Iris was skipping down the hall, seemingly rejuvenated by hope. Heh. It would do that, wouldn’t it. “She has a million things to do for people and she has a beauty routine and she has a whole comet to build right now, so she’s busy.”

  Iris whistled sharply and shoved a wall — that gave way to a door, making Eos jump. So they had more than one hidden thing aboard this ship, did they? Iris waved Eos in.

  The room was small.

  Well, small for the Chance.

  Eos let herself step into the darkness, and felt her eyes blink.

  It was shaped like a circle. Unlike the opulent walls of friezes and gold, the walls here were completely smooth. They extended up into a darkness Eos’s eyes couldn’t reach. There was a circular platform which seemed to extend over a pool of water that glowed with soft blue light. The edge of the platform was fenced off with stalagmites. No — crystals. Eos flinched as a drop of water struck one and send a quivering sound all through the room. And then another — and another.

  Music.

  “Go to the bowl,” Iris gestured with a nod. Eos looked back at the platform, and sure enough — a stone basin of water sat there.

  “Do I need to wash up again?”

  “No, dummy, she’s waiting for you.”

  Eos raised an eyebrow, but did as she was told.

  “…Lady Sionna?” Eos blinked at the bowl, wrapping her fingers gingelry around the edges. The stone was ice-cold to the touch.

  Lo and behold — there she was, the Lady herself, standing in the center of …somewhere. Somewhere blurry. It was so strange. She looked clear as ice over a lake, the kind so pristine and untouched you could stare straight through to the bottom. But the place around her… blurry, unknown.

  “How is this possible?” Eos asked. “Is this some - sort of window?” She reached for the bowl, wondering if she could touch the glass underneath.

  “Hey!”

  Eos yelped as Iris smacked her hand away. “Don’t touch the water! You’ll break it. The — you know, the call.”

  “Forgive me,” Eos said, staring. “I’ve never seen a… call before.”

  Iris huffed. “Obviously not.”

  Rude, but true. Eos kept her hands to herself.

  “Lady Sionna?” Eos called again. “You wanted to see me?”

  The vision in the pool spoke, brightening to life like a statue that had woken up from stone-cold slumber.

  “Oh! There you are,” Lady Sionna laughed. “What took you so long, dearie? Oh, never mind. I called you over here because I need your help.”

  Eos straightened up. “Is that so? I’m honored to be considered, Lady Sionna, but—“

  “Oh, good, good,” said Lady Sionna. “See, I’ve been thinking, and — you know, bright young lady like yourself has the right idea. Polishing names! And there’s no better way to polish a name than to get a new one.”

  “Er,” Eos said eloquently. She thumbed her bead. “I suppose not!”

  “Oh, good, then we’re in agreement,” Lady Sionna said. “Take my baby to the Challenge, help her win a name, la-dee-da, and I’ll throw in a few billion mass for you.”

  Eos felt her ears ring.

  “….sorry?” Eos said. “A few billion mass? Hah— forgive my ignorance, I thought it was the Oulis epithet —“

  “Yes, yes, you can keep it.” Lady Sionna waved her hand. “I know, I know, I’m so generous, aren’t I? But truly. Just give a little to my girl. The wings should be more than enough. She’ll look so pretty with wings, won’t she?”

  “But of course,” Eos said, her heart suddenly up and racing, like it had been whipped out of straight slumber. Eos could feel it thumping in her throat. “But I didn’t dispute the payment, Lady Sionna. I wanted to see — if you’re truly alright with me absconding away with your child like this.”

  “Okay?” Lady Sionna gasped. “More than okay! You need to take her tonight. We’ve got a beautiful narrow window in which we can launch your ship before we end up in a very difficult passage to the Mid Rim.”

  “Toni—“ Eos shook her head. “I mean to say — won’t you be worried about her?” Eos’s voice softened. “Her abilities to take care of herself are well known to me, of course. And I would try the best of my care. But would you not miss her?”

  Lady Sionna seemed to ponder. Ponder so long, in fact, Eos could see the edges of her image fading — like the connection that drew this image was dimming.

  “Of course I’ll miss her,” said Lady Sionna. “She’s my daughter. But she’s got to grow up sometime, and this is important to her. And what’s important to her is important to me. Take my girl and go get some names for yourselves, okay? I’ve left some mass to fund your trip.”

  Eos exhaled. But — all families were different, weren’t they? Eos couldn’t imagine choosing to be anywhere other than with hers, right now. But maybe Iris needed to go spread her wings. Or earn some.

  “Alright. If that’s your wish, then the Lucifer can happily take her on. Then —“

  “Excellent. Toodles!”

  Eos watched the lights in the water wink out, one by one. What was vision became a melted pool of colors, like wax melting in a pot.

  “Could she… not hear me?” Eos asked.

  “There’s a delay,” Iris said, kicking the podium. It sent ripples shuddering across the surface of the water until even the colors faded away. Soon there was nothing in the room but Eos, Iris, and the sound of the stones dripping water onto the crystals. “She knew you’d say yes.”

  Should expect nothing less from the most business-savvy woman in the system. Eos shook her head in amazement. “And you’re truly alright just flying away tonight?” Eos questioned.

  “I’ve been packed for ages now!” Iris burst. She ran to a corner of the room, and disappeared behind one of the thick crystal pillars. A low rumbling sound followed until Iris reemerged with thick, cylindrical bags, on… were those wheels? Eos stared. What a brilliant invention. She wasn’t jealous. But she was picking them apart with her mind.

  “It seems you have been,” Eos agreed, squatting down by the bags. “How does one make—“

  “Less talking, more moving!” Iris interrupted. “We’re going to miss our window.”

  “Is that right?” Eos said. “Well — let me rouse my Captain and get aboard the ship.”

  Iris was out the door before Eos could say more. Eos sighed. She drummed on Elpis’s lid.

  “O, Goddess,” Eos murmured. “One more hope. Here’s hoping Anesi doesn’t kill me.”