Page 51 of The Sunlit Man

Pretend, the knight says, I have a very smug expression on right now.

Rebeke glanced at her sister, looking relieved to find her unharmed. She then turned to Nomad, clearly expecting a scolding, which he didn’t offer. He’d probably have listened in too, in her situation.

Nomad pointed to Elegy. “Didn’t you mention that your people have some kind of ritual prayer they say before sharing heat with another person or, more importantly, beforetakingit?”

“There…are several,” she said. “Why?”

“Tell me the situations.”

“Well, there’s one said between a husband and wife,” she said, “before…intimacy.”

Wow. Ritual prayers before sex. Sounds…fun?

“Anything else?”

“Prayer before first touching a loved one,” she said. “Prayer of thanks before offering heat to one who has protected or served you. Prayer when with the dying, to take their heat before it fades away—”

He sat straighter in his chair.

“We only do it if someone is dying for certain!” she exclaimed. “And only for one who desperately needs the heat, to help them with a sickness or weakness!”

That’s cute, the knight says. She thinks you care about their social customs. How endearing.

“Tell it to me,” he said.

“Um… Blessed Adonalsium, accept this soul and reward them for their heat given. Bold one on the threshold of death, give me your dying heat that I may bless those who still live.”

Perfect.A forced removal of Investiture, ritualized with a formal Command. He snatched the sunheart off the table and pressed it to Elegy’s arm, drawing another growl. He said the words exactly as Rebeke had.

Nothing happened.

“You’re trying to transfer her heat to the sunheart?” Rebeke said. “It won’t work like you think. We’ve tried, and while we can store some heat in a depleted sunheart, it doesn’t give enough power to fly ships.”

Confirmation, the knight muses, that their souls aren’t powerful enough to make sunhearts on their own. It’s not just a congealedsoul—the bombardment of sunlight is required to supercharge the thing, creating the power source.

“How do you do it?” Nomad asked her. “Transfer heat into a sunheart?”

“I’m not sure,” she said. “It’s not often used.”

He thought a moment, then tried again, changing the words. “Bold one on the threshold of death, give thissunheartyour heat, that it may bless those who still live.” The tweak might be enough to…

No. Again, nothing happened.

“Why are you trying this?” Rebeke said. “I don’t understand. There’s really no use in transferring heat to a sunheart—it’s not alive, so it can’t appreciate the gift.”

“Cosmereologically,” he said, “you’d be surprised at the wide range of definitions of ‘alive’ and ‘dead.’ Regardless, I need to know how to transfer a bit of someone’s soul into a sunheart.”

“Why?” Rebeke demanded. “What are you trying to do?”

“Explore the nature of your power sources,” he said. But unfortunately he was at a dead end here. And they were several hours closer to death on the slopes of an approaching mountain. He took the notebooks with his schematics from the table and held them up. “I need to build a prototype of my engine design. Quickly. You told me your people could fabricate parts.”

“We can’t fabricate for you,” she said. “But our ancestors can.”

He paused. “So…wait. You can’t do it anymore?”

“No, we never could,” she said. “But ourancestorscan.” She looked to him. “I suppose it’s time to introduce you to the ghosts.”

They were kepton Beacon’s largest ship, a cylindrical vessel that served as a central hub. Nomad had learned that Beacon didn’t always assemble in the exact same way; ships would hook together and spread out organically. Metal sheets placed over holes made it look more cohesive than it was.

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