Page 23 of The Sunlit Man

“I assumed I’d never know. The town philosophers had talked themselves hoarse arguing the matter, as was often their way. Talk until you can’t talk anymore, and then hope someone will buy you a drink to keep the words flowing.” He smiled at Nomad, eyestwinkling. “Yet here I am. Millennia later. Walking between the stars, learning each one. I got my answers eventually. Yet…I’d guess that, by now, you’ve seen more of the cosmere than I have.”

“So it’s a blessing?” Nomad asked, gesturing to himself. “This Torment you’ve given me?”

“Every Torment is,” Wit said, “even mine.”

“Wonderful. Very comforting. Thanks for the chat, Wit.” Nomad continued on his way. As he walked, he found Wit appearing farther along the rim in front of him, turning to watch him pass.

“You always wanted the answers,” Wit said. “That’s why I took you on. You thought you could find them, tease them out, write them down, and catalogue the world. So certain you could find every one, if you just tried hard enough…”

“Yes, I was an idiot, thank you. Appreciate the reminder.”

Wit, of course, appeared ahead of him again—though he was fading, his form becoming transparent. The little burst of Connection Auxiliary had used to make this meeting happen was running out, blessedly.

“It’s a good instinct,” Wit said, “to search for answers. To want them.”

“They don’t exist,” Nomad said with a sigh, stopping to look at Wit. “There are too many questions. Seeking any kind of explanation is madness.”

“You’re right on the first point,” Wit said. “Remarkable to think that I discovered the secret to the stars themselves. But then found questions abounding that were even more pernicious. Questions that, yes, have no answers. No good ones, anyway.” He met Nomad’s eyes. “But realizing that changed me, apprentice. It’s not—”

“It’s not the answers but the questions themselves,” Nomad interrupted. “Yes, blah blah. I’ve heard it. Do you know how many times I’ve heard it?”

“Do you understand it?”

“Thought I did,” he said. “Then my oaths ended, and I realized that destinations reallyareimportant, Wit. They are. No matter what we say.”

“Nobodyeverimplied they lacked importance,” Wit said. “And I don’t think you do understand. Because if you did, you’d realize: sometimes, asking the questions is enough. Because it has to be enough. Because sometimes, that’s all there is.”

Nomad held his gaze. Fuming for reasons he couldn’t explain. Exasperated, though of course that part was normal when Wit was involved.

“I’m not going back,” Nomad said, “to who I was. I don’twantto go back. I’m not running from him. I don’tcareabout him.”

“I know,” Wit said softly. Then he leaned in. “I was wrong. I did the best with the situation I had, hoping it would prevent calamity. I ruined your life, and I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

How…odd it was to hear him be so forthright, so frank. Sincere. Completely sincere. Storm that man, how did he keep surprising Nomad, even after all this time?

Nomad turned to go, but then stopped, waiting for the final word. Witalwayshad the final word. This time, though, the man just gave Nomad a wan, sorrowful smile, then faded to nothing. Perhaps he knew there was nothing more of any use he could say, and so had fallen silent. If so, it was probably the first timethathad happened in Wit’s life.

Nomad sighed. He expected a wisecrack from Auxiliary, but the spren stayed silent as well. He usually did when Wit was around—he knew Nomad often felt double-teamed in situations like that.

“Damnation,” Nomad said, “we need to get off this planet. And I know how we can do it.”

How? the knight asks, wondering if his squire has missed the entire point of an important conversation.

“The people running this place found an access disc that looks very familiar. Scadrian writing on it. And you can bet if there’s a power source on this planet powerful enough to get me offworld, it will be with them.”

Ahhh…Auxiliary said.So what do we do?

Nomad stalked to the building he’d left behind, picking it out easily because he’d left the doors cracked open by accident. He stomped inside, trailing water, rifle under his arm. He burst in on the people still in conference, his arrival causing them to stumble back in surprise and fear. Not a single one reached for a weapon.

Yeah, they were doomed. But maybe their desires aligned with his. He grabbed the access disc off the table, held it up, and spoke in their tongue—perfectly, without accent.

“I know what this is,” he said. “It’s a key to a large metal door, probably buried somewhere, right? With similar writing on it?” He tossed the key onto the table, where it hit and flipped, clattering against the wood. “I’m going there too. Maybe we can help each other.”

Contemplation threw herselfto her feet, pointing. “I knew it! I knew it! Your features, that gibberish you spoke. You’re too odd to be from another corridor. You’re one ofthem. A Sunlit Man.”

“A legend,” Confidence said, folding her bony arms.

“So is our exodus from Hell,” Contemplation said. “Both so far back in time, even the Chorus doesn’t remember the dates.”

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