Page 19 of The Sunlit Man

There were no windows, of course. That small antechamber had been a lightlock. Meant to keep people from spilling the building’s light out onto the street, allowing them to keep moving invisiblyin this darkness. A quick glance showed him that the wall and door separating them from the lightlock was made of a less sturdy wooden material, while the floor and ceiling were metal. That antechamber had been added recently.

Yes, they were almost certainly a people who’d only recently gone on the run, hiding in this deeper darkness beneath the clouds.

He joined the other two in crossing the hallway, and didn’t miss that Zeal kept a close eye on him—hand in his pocket, perhaps ready to control the bracers and freeze Nomad again. They led him into a room at the end of the hallway, and he entered, eager to meet the ones they called the Greater Good.

They turned out to be three elderly women.

Old women? Thatwasn’t as exciting as he’d hoped. But, hey, maybe one was secretly a dragon.

Nomad could tell from the behavior of the others that these women were in charge, though they weren’t wearing anything regal—just common black dresses, gloves like everyone else, and hats, even here indoors. The heavyset one was pale skinned, while the other two were of a more familiar, darker skin tone.

The three ladies sat at a table, taking a report from a burly man with dark brown eyes and a black beard that could have hosted a fine topiary, if it had been trimmed. Nomad had a cousin back home that looked a lot like the fellow. He had a blast mark on one arm, the jacket there burnt, exposing the glancing wound. Another member of the raiding party.

“Confidence,” Rebeke said to the first and tallest of the women.She had blue eyes. “Compassion.” This was the shortest of them, and the frailest in appearance, with light brown eyes. “Contemplation.” This was the woman of wider girth, the one with pale skin but black hair—obviously dyed—curled up on top of her head. Her grey-green eyes matched the shawl she wore. “I have recovered my sister,” Rebeke continued after a nod of respect to each of the three.

“So we’ve been informed,” Contemplation said, rubbing her chin. “I believe you were told not to be so brash.”

“I was.”

“And you lost your brother,” Confidence said. “One sibling sacrificed for the rescue of another?”

“We couldn’t—” Rebeke started, but the short woman they called Compassion had risen. Walking unsteadily, she stumbled over and grabbed Rebeke in a hug.

Rebeke lowered her head, stray locks of hair falling around her face, and held on.

The room fell silent. It was probably heartwarming or something. Nomad was more interested in the kettle of tea on the table. He grabbed a chair and pulled it over, then got himself a drink. He dripped water on the floor from his sodden clothing as he did so.

The tea was cold. But otherwise not bad. A little too sweet, maybe.

Everyone in the room stared at him. So he leaned back and put his boots up on the table.

The fellow with the beard pushed them off. “What type of person is this, with such terrible manners?” he demanded.

The man trailed off as Nomad stood. Again, though considered a short man in his homeland, here he had a good half a foot on anyonein the room. With his clothing ripped, they undoubtedly could see his muscles—earned, not simply a result of his Invested status.

The bearded man looked him over, then backed off, letting Nomad settle down again. He pointedly put his feet back up on the table, rattling the teacups of the three older women.

“Before we sent Thomos to the healers,” Zeal said, pulling over his own chair, “he muttered something deliriously. That he’d seen this man touch the sunlight and live.”

Thomos had seen that, had he? Nomad had almost forgotten his moment of feeling the sunlight before being yanked out of it. Perhaps the prisoners had been forced to watch the executions. Nomad’s opinion of Glowing Eyes went down even further. That was an act of distinct cruelty.

“Sunlit,” Contemplation said. “A Sunlit Man.”

“If it pleases the Greater Good, I disagree,” Rebeke said, taking her own seat at the increasingly crowded table. “Accept this observation: if he were a Sunlit One, he’d be helping us, not acting like…this.”

“He speaks gibberish,” Zeal said. “Like a baby not yet weaned.”

“Does he now?” Contemplation said. “Curious, curious…”

“If it pleases you, I thought perchance you’d be able to say what manner of man he was,” Rebeke said. “And honestly…heinsistentlyfollowed us in here. We’d probably have to freeze him to get him to leave.”

“Maybe he’s a killer!” the bearded man said, leaning forward. “Our own killer! Did you see how he glared at me?”

That…was not how Nomad had expected this man to respond. The fellow was smiling, eager.

Rebeke shook her head at the bearded man. “If he were a killer, I think I’d know it, Jeffrey Jeffrey.”

Jeffrey Jeffrey? Nomad liked that one too. “Hey, Aux,” he said in Alethi. “What do you…”

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