Page 74 of The Sunlit Man

“Regardless,” Nomad said, forging forward, “the Cinder King created a whole big group of new sunhearts yesterday—and the spot where he did should be just ahead of us.”

“The souls of our friends, left in the sunlight,” Zeal said with a solemn nod. “We know the longitude. If we use the prospector, we could find them.”

“The Cinder King always guards the border between the great maelstrom and the shadow,” Confidence said. “He doesn’t want anyone else to claim the sunhearts there.”

“Explain this to me again,” Nomad said, frowning, trying to form a mental image. “The day side of the planet is incinerating heat and melted rock. I understand that. But there’s also a…storm you call the great maelstrom? Is this storm more violent than the one we flew through in the darkness?”

“Yes,” Compassion whispered. “The great maelstrom follows the sunset, when the planet first passes into night. It’s a raging tempest of incredible violence. When the land finally cools and the storm dissipates, the shadow begins—the cloud cover we hide in. That line is where sunhearts are collected.”

“We raid him right there, then,” Nomad said. “Attack at the collection point and steal some. How far away is that?”

“For a fast ship?” Zeal said. “It can be as little as an hour’s flight from near-dawn to the great maelstrom.”

Again Nomad was struck by the tiny size of this planet. Around two hundred miles at most in diameter, by his quick calculations. Amazing.

“So there’s a chance,” he said. “We have two and a half hours. We fly in, we steal sunhearts, we get back here.”

“It won’t work,” Confidence said, folding her bony arms. “We raided him just recently. He’s not going to be taken unaware again.”

“Perchance,” Zeal said. “But if I may offer a counterargument, he can’t have expected us to survive that ascent, right? So far as he presumes, we were destroyed and he is the victor. Perhaps we can steal a Union scout ship, so that nobody realizes it’s us, and get in close enough to steal some sunhearts right out of his vessels.”

“Steal one of their ships?” Contemplation said. “In time? Yes, your words have merit, and he might assume we are dead. But I cannot imagine stealing a ship and executing such a plan in the span we have. I agree with Confidence, Zeal. We had weeks to plan the previous raid and were blessed by your device that could freeze his Charred.”

“I can do it,” Zeal promised. “Please. Let me try to save our people.”

“Or,” Nomad said, “we could try something else.” He thumbed upward. “That’s Elegy’sDawnchaser, right? A reinforced prospector?”

“And?” Contemplation said.

“And, as you’ve explained, the Cinder King always collects his sunheartsafterthe maelstrom has passed. What if we didn’t wait? What if we were to fly ahead of him and steal them right out of the ground before he gets to them? Inside the storm?”

Collectively they gaped at him.

All right, the knight says, that’s fun. I like the way you make their brains melt. It’s cute.

Confidence sputtered. “Survive the great maelstrom? It’s impossible.”

“Nobody goesintothe maelstrom,” Contemplation said. “It’s madness.”

“Same is said of the storm on my homeworld,” Nomad said. “But I know someone who survived it, then inspired a whole host of us to do the same.” He pointed at Elegy’s ship again. “You told me that was reinforced for flying into the maelstrom.”

“It never managed to go fully into the storm!” Solemnity Divine said. “I helped reinforce it, but the sensors always told her she’d die. She always backed down.”

“She never actually flew into the great maelstrom?” Nomad asked.

“No,” Rebeke said. “Because she’s notinsane.”

Nomad gestured to the sides, indicating the entire ship below them. One that had just climbed a mountain. “It’s a day for insanity, folks. A day for risks.”

They were all silent.

“I’m in,” Zeal said. “Let’s do it, Sunlit. Let’s steal from the sun itself.”

They were offin under ten minutes—the amount of time it took to unlock Elegy’s ship and gather Zeal’s team. The four people were more rough-and-tumble than the rest of the Beaconites he’d met—with thick work gloves, overalls of coarse cloth, and long coats. When they spoke, there was less sugar in their language and a lot more spice.

He’d begun to think of these people as monolithic, but that was never true. Even two siblings would reflect their culture and upbringing in different ways.

Nomad tasked Rebeke with the actual flying, and they lifted off, skimming the muddy ground, leaving Beacon—what was left of it—huddled in the mountain’s shadow, helpless before the advancing sun. Nomad wished theDawnchaserwere more dynamic—and a little less like some kind of bulbous insect.

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