Page 115 of The Sunlit Man

“Sunlit One,” Rebeke said softly.

“The Cinder King?” Confidence asked.

“Dead,” Rebeke said. “We hope to recover his sunheart and use it to power Union for a while. It feels appropriate.”

“You need to hear,” Contemplation said, smiling a wan smile as the platform lifted off to take them to Union to recover. “There is a way torechargesunhearts.”

Rebeke nodded. “He told us. Before he…left.”

The three women looked to her. The word lingered. They didn’t know for certain. Might not ever know for certain. Had he somehow survived, or had the sun taken him?

But Elegy’s heart—which she was training to feel joy—wanted to believe. The dome had stayed up for the day, protecting the Beaconites, before vanishing and leaving only a pit of mud. She had an instinct that said when they recovered the Cinder King’s sunheart—the last one that would ever need to be made—it would be alone there in the soil.

“We have work to do,” Rebeke said softly as they rose into the sky. “We’ve already had some communication with people from other corridors—one group even sent a delegation. But we need to reach themalland tell them what we’ve found. We give this information away freely, as it was given freely to us. Westopthe sacrifices.”

“As you wish, Sunlit,” Contemplation said.

“No,” she said, smiling. “Not as I wish. You are our rulers.”

“But—” Confidence gestured to the cinderheart in Rebeke’s chest.

“This lets me control the Charred,” Rebeke said. “But we’re trying to wake them up slowly, to teach them. And I won’t see any more of them made. We’ll use them for protection, so long as they choose. But I will not be another tyrant. I will be…a symbol, Confidence. A beacon. Nothing more.” She smiled, looking to Elegy. “As my sister taught us.”

Elegy still hoped she’d get to fight now and then. But if not…well, she was just going to have to find new emotions and activities to enjoy.

And as they rose into the sky, she found that—instead of sounding boring—it felt like an adventure.

Staff Sergeant Truth-Is-Waitingwithdrew from his conference with the people of the floating city. He slouched as he walked, certain these people would be intimidated by military discipline. He didn’t want them to remember him. He was on tenuous enough ground, pretending to be from a town in another “corridor” come for explanations.

He slipped into the ship he’d stolen from the first town they’d visited. Inside, other members of the Night Brigade watched the door with hands on weapons. They stood down as he nodded to them, then he slipped into the cab.

The Admiral waited here. They had an admiral, despite being an army. It was their way. Tall, with short black hair and a full military uniform, she stood facing away from him, her hands stiff at her sides. The Admiral was…not the kind to rest. He didn’t think he’d ever walked in during a mission and found her sitting.

“Report,” she said quietly, resting a hand on her Continuity Chain—the silver, whiplike weapon rolled up and hung at her hip.

“He was here,” Truth-Is-Waiting said. “They talk about it freely. He reportedly died about a day back, local time. Fighting the king of this place.”

“Died?” the Admiral said, her back still to him.

“Reportedly. Shall we pry for information the, uh, more painful way?”

“You think they have any useful answers to give?”

“Frankly, sir? No.”

She tapped her foot in thought.

“I did find something fun,” he said. “Scadrian ship, embedded here. Doing ‘science.’ They had him and didn’t report it to us—or even send an amiable greeting. Rude, don’t you think?”

She turned to him, eyes glittering, a rare smile turning up the corners of her lips. “Very rude.”

“Maybe,” he said, “we should pay them a visit and see whattheyknow.” He shrugged. “Besides. Folks here are our cousins. Feels wrong to slag them for being in the wrong place.”

“Being in the wrong place,” she said, “is the main reason people get slagged, Truth.”

He shrugged again.

“We’ll proceed with the Scadrians,” the Admiral said. “They will have recordings. We’ll find thosefarmore reliable than accounts from a bunch of backwater peasants anyway. I have a feeling he’s one step ahead of us again. How does he do it?”

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