Page 37 of The Sunlit Man

His frown deepened as he saw the man himself stroll out onto the deck, hands behind his back, eyes burning in the twilight. The ship parked in the sky, hovering, with the Cinder King standing at the bow. It was an invitation if Nomad had ever seen one.

“He’s here for me,” Nomad said.

“What? How would he even know you’re here?”

“Depends on how much that scout was able to report,” Nomad said.

Nomad, the knight says trepidatiously, what are you thinking?

“Trepidatiously? Is that even a word?”

Not a proper one. Oh, you’re going to do something stupid, aren’t you?

“I can’t stop moving,” he said. “If I stop, I die.” He switched to the local tongue. “Rebeke, I’m going to go up. Pretend that you’re not here. But if things go poorly, try to back me up.”

“Uh…” the young woman said. “How will I know if things go poorly?”

“I’ll most likely come crashing through one of those windows,” he said. “If I’m lucky, I’ll do so of my own choice.” He took a deep breath, pulled his cycle out of the overhang, restarted the engine, and went roaring into the sky.

The Cinder King’s luxury ship was hovering at the peak of what the cycle could manage, height-wise. Nomad’s vehicle strained as it hovered up to the bow, and again he noticed that his ears popped from pressure change rather quickly as he climbed to that height.

The Cinder King wore a high-collar shirt under a long coat marked with softly glowing ribbons of light, highly polished boots, and black leather gloves. He smiled, the light in his eyes mirrored by the ember in his chest.

He turned and gestured toward a docking point at the side of the deck. This ship was shaped like a seafaring boat, with narrow decks that widened near the bow, a control cabin, and storage space within the hull. Nomad hadn’t seen much wood since coming here, and this thing was emblazoned with it—and with gold trim that must glitter fiercely in brighter conditions. The docking point was a rectangle cut out of the deck, where a small craft could slot in.

Nomad carefully moved into position—but didn’t fully dock. He left the cycle hovering on its own power and stepped out onto the deck. From the cabin, two Charred—their simmering embers impossible to miss in the shadows—moved closer. Their king,however, waved them back. With his other hand, he reached welcomingly to Nomad.

Last time, the knight notes, he locked us up and tried to brand us. Why the change in behavior?

The Cinder King waved over a white-jacketed servant, who carried a stack of…large pieces of paper? Yes, stiff paper—almost cardboard—with pictures on them and…

“Oh,” Nomad said in their tongue as the man held up the first, depicting the Cinder King and Nomad shaking hands. “Yeah, you won’t need those. I figured out your language.”

“You…figured it out?” the Cinder King said. Storms, those eyes were unnerving. Reminded Nomad of people he had once trusted, once loved. “In less than a day?”

“I’m a quick learner,” Nomad said. “How did you know I would be here?”

“Please,” the Cinder King said, smirking. “Someone brought down one of my best scouts? It was obvious. Would you kindly join me inside? No tricks, I promise.”

“An oath?” Nomad said, curious. “Given so easily? Tell me what this is about, and I will consider it.”

“Our initial meeting was unfortunate.”

To put it mildly, the hero remarks.

“But,” the Cinder King continued, “I’ve realized the mistake was mine. Having you be one of my Charred would have been delightful, but there is another way to have you serve me. I’d like to hire you.”

“Hire me,” Nomad said flatly.

“Yes,” the Cinder King said, walking briskly toward the cabin.“They do that on your planet, don’t they? That place you come from, of storms and stone? They hire men as soldiers?”

He knew?

How did heknow?

For the first time, Nomad was legitimately intrigued by this man. He found himself following the Cinder King into the cabin. Behind a door at the front were the pilot’s controls. A small bank of screens sat atop a desk, each showing a flickering scene of the Cinder King’s ship from a different angle. Nomad had almost forgotten about the security camera he’d seen while restrained in the arena, but here was evidence of the Cinder King’s tight control over his people. One of the swiveling images faced the ground beneath the ship, zoomed in so far that Nomad could see the wreckage of the scout’s cycle. He hoped they couldn’t spot Rebeke from here. He forced himself to turn away before someone noticed where he was looking.

The majority of the space was a room with fine woods, a bar, and several plush seats. The Cinder King shooed back several Charred who haunted the room. He walked over and served himself a drink.

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