Page 32 of The Sunlit Man

“Then we’ll ask if they want some tea,” Nomad said. “What do youthinkwe’ll do? We’ll kill the bastard before they kill us.” He leaned in, watching her. She waseager. Maybe it was the recklessness of someone who had nothing left to live for. Maybe it was a thirst for vengeance. Most likely it was just wanting to do something—anything—to keep her mind off her loss. He’d been there. Too many times.

There is something odd about the way these people act, the knight muses to himself. I assume you’ve noticed.

“Yes,” he said in Alethi. “There’s a kind of strange timidity to them. Even the sharpshooters don’t really feel like soldiers—I wouldn’t be surprised to find they are repurposed hunters.” After all, they used the term “killer” like it was a dividing line. As if some people were capable of it, and some people weren’t.

Either way, he sensed a hunger in Rebeke. A desire to act, to fight back. He led her in another wide loop, getting closer to the scout’s location. The hovercycle controls were surprisingly intuitive. He supposed that made sense; if your entire society relied on constant flight, then you’d want your ships to be simple to fly.

The scout had taken cover beside a rock formation, like a large wave of magma that had been frozen in place. They were much closer now, but a distance still separated them—perhaps equal to what they’d already covered. Getting closer would be suspicious.

“All right,” Nomad said to Rebeke. “Now!”

Together they boltedto the side, punching their cycles to maximum speed, zipping straight toward that scout.

He saw them immediately. A gaunt man in a white coat with red stripes, he spun his hovercycle and fled, keeping low to the ground and darting into what appeared to be a large lava tube. That was dangerous, but would reduce the chance of being shot from above or behind.

Nomad swung in low to follow, and Rebeke joined him, an intense expression on her face, wind playing with her black and silver hair. Nomad let himself smile. It felt good to be in the air. Moving. A second later, they darted into the lava tube—a large circular stone tunnel. Broken in many places, open to the sky, twisting and turning. Requiring hairpin turns and careful judging of speed not to slam into the wall.

You remember, the knight notes with a roll of his eyes, when wefirst met? You told me you were “the sensible one” who “didn’t rush headlong into every fight that came your way.”

“Nope,” he said. “Doesn’t sound like something I’d say.”

Yeah, and what happened to wanting to lie low? Taking the easy road? Does that sound like the current you?

“Just trying to keep this girl alive.”

That’s remarkably uncynical of you.

“Eh. I’m bored.”

Nomad took another turn, barely keeping sight of the scout ahead in the shadowed tunnel, dark enough between broken sections of rock that only the glow of an engine indicated their quarry.

A moment later, a voice sounded over the radio. “What are you doing?” Contemplation demanded, barely audible against the rushing air.

“We’re checking on something,” he replied, thumbing the communication button. “A scout, we think.”

“Sunlit Man,” Contemplation said, “you are needed to open the doorway.”

“Have you found it yet?”

“No. The landscape is extremely difficult this time.”

“Well, we won’t get the chance if the Cinder King arrives. So it’s best if we stop this scout before he can report.”

“And if you die? You promised to activate the key—without you, we’ll be locked out.”

“If I die,” he said, “that immediately stops being my problem, then, doesn’t it?”

“Reckless fools,” she muttered. “If it pleases you—and I doubtanythingdoes—you should stop encouraging Rebeke. She’s allwe have left of her family, and I should prefer to see her safely ensconced in the Refuge before my time arrives.”

Feeling the epiphany like a punch to the gut, he realized what she was referring to: her time to die in the sunlight, to become a powerpack for her people. This society was all kinds of wrong. But one did what one must to survive; he understood that better than most.

For now, he ignored the radio, leaned down, and enjoyed the chase. The scout flew well, staying ahead of them in the tunnel—but none of them were flying at full speed. These turns were too tight.

And unfortunately the scout didn’t need to escape. He just had to get close enough to home to draw attention. So Nomad might have to do something foolish.

“Take the next exit through the broken ceiling, Rebeke,” he said over the radio. “I’m going to punch this up a little.”

“What?”

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