Page 6 of The Sunlit Man

The man stepped up to Nomad and seized him by the face.

Nothing happened.

The man seemed surprised by this. He shifted his grip.

“If you lean in for a kiss,” Nomad muttered, “I’m going to bite your storming lip off.”

It felt good to be able to joke like that. His distant, former master would be proud of him. In his youth, Nomad had been far too serious and rarely allowed himself levity. More because he’d been too embarrassed and frightened by the idea of possibly saying something cringeworthy.

Get dragged through the dirt enough times—get beaten to within an inch of your life, to the point where you barely remembered your own name—well, that did wonders for your sense of humor. All you had left at that point was to laugh at the joke you had become.

The onlookers werereallyamazed by the fact that nothing happened when Glowing Eyes touched him. The man took Nomad one final time by the chin, then let go and wiped his hand on his coat before replacing his glove, his eyes—like the burning light of firemoss—illuminating the front brim of his hat and the too-smooth features of his face. He might have been fifty, but it was hard to tell, as he didn’t have a single wrinkle. Seemed there were advantages to living in perpetual twilight.

One of the officers from before stepped up and gestured atNomad, speaking in hushed tones. He looked incredulous, pointing toward the horizon.

Another of the officers nodded, staring at Nomad. “Sess Nassith Tor,” he whispered.

Curious, the knight says. I almost understood that. It’s very similar to another language I’m still faintly Connected to.

“Any idea which one?” Nomad growled.

No. But…I think…Sess Nassith Tor… It means something like… One Who Escaped the Sun.

Others behind repeated the phrase, taking it up, until Glowing Eyes roared at them. He looked back at Nomad, then kicked him square in the chest. It hurt, particularly in the state Nomad was in. This man was definitely Invested, to deliver so strong a kick.

Nomad grunted and bent over, gasping for breath. The man seized him, then smiled, now realizing that Nomad wouldn’t fight back. The manenjoyedthat idea. He tossed Nomad to the side, then kicked him in the chest again, his smile broadening.

Nomad would have loved to rip that smile off with some skin attached. But since fighting back would make him freeze, the best thing to do was to play docile.

Glowing Eyes gestured to Nomad. “KorSess Nassith Tor,” he said with a sneer, then kicked Nomad again for good measure.

A few officers scrambled forward and grabbed him under the arms to drag him off. He found himself hoping for a nice cell—someplace cold and hard, yes, but at least he could sleep and forget who he was for a few hours.

Such modest hopes were shattered as the city started to break apart.

The entire cityvibrated, and the buildings swayed sickeningly. Cracks appeared in the metal street beneath Nomad, but as he began to panic, his captors calmly stepped across the cracks and pulled him into a building.

The city shook and split. It…it wasn’t breaking. It wasdisassembling. It shattered into hundreds of pieces, each chunk rising on its own jets, each with a single building on it. Each chunk was aship.

Earlier, he’d seen how the hovercycles had locked into place along the edge, adding their thrust to the city. In a discomfiting moment, he now realized thateverypiece of the platform was similar. It wasn’t one big flying city; instead it had been hundreds of ships joined together.

Most of them were modest in size—the single-family-home version of a hovership. Many were smaller than that, built like tugboats,with wide decks and a cab on top. A few were larger, carrying wide buildings suitable for meeting halls or warehouses. They were all bounded with wide, flat decks that could be joined together to make the streets. As each ship flew off, railings rose at the decks’ edges and walls unfolded to reveal windshields and control cabs.

He got the impression that this city hadn’t been built as a cohesive whole that could also be disassembled—rather, this was a hodgepodge of individual vehicles that could work together. That helped explain the city’s eclectic quality. The place was like a caravan that, for the sake of convenience or defense, could assemble its pieces into a temporary town.

The fact that it worked so well together was remarkable. Responding to shouts and instructions Nomad couldn’t understand, many of the ships flew off into the distance, engaged in some activity. Nomad squinted and saw that several were scattering some substance onto the ground.

Seeds,he realized.They’re spreading seeds.A puzzle piece of this bizarre world fell into place. The Invested sunlight explained the fast-growing plants, maturing almost instantly as they absorbed the potent predawn light. He’d already proven he couldn’t siphon off that energy for himself, but the plants whispered there was a way—even if it was out of his reach.

Regardless, this society had a harvestevery day. They must sow crops, then reap them mere hours later, before fleeing into the darkness. Was that light from the rings sufficient, or did they need to get in close, dare the edge of the deadly sunlight?

He had to fight back his curiosity with a bludgeon.

You make, hethought at himself,a terrible cynic.

The ship he was on didn’t follow those sowing the crops; it joinedanother group of ships that descended to the ground. Some here had buildings of two or three stories, the largest he had seen. They landed in a wide ring on the muddy ground. His ship came down and locked in next to an overbearing one with tiers of balconies on the front.

Glowing Eyes stepped up onto one of these and settled into a seat. Nomad inspected the muddy ring as lesser ships locked in on top of one another, creating a tiered structure four or five ships tall. He felt a sinking feeling as he recognized this setup. It was an arena. While the farmers went out to work, the privileged gathered on the front decks of their ships to enjoy some kind of show.

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