Page 90 of The Sunlit Man

Beside him, a tree was growing—a long, thin shoot, sprouting leaves that trembled like the legs of a toddler taking her first steps. He watched it, then turned away—coming face-to-face with Rebeke, who was striding up the small hill, holding a new coat for him made of the same brown leather as before.

Auxiliary would have noticed her coming, but hadn’t said anything. Traitor. And as she joined him—pale face cast in ringlight, holding out that jacket—he realized she hadn’t been there earlier. When everyone had presented him with heat. She’d been with the Chorus, having this jacket fabricated for him. He took it, hesitant, worried about that look in her eyes.

She slipped off her glove, then held out her hand. “I didn’t get a chance,” she said, “to thank you.”

He caught her hand by the clothed portion of her wrist as she reached for him. Stopping her from touching his face.

“Why?” she asked. “You let the others.”

“I think you might want to give something more than they did,” he replied.

She met his eyes briefly, like the fleeting bob of a lifespren, then glanced away, blushing. “Why not?” she asked. “Why shouldn’t we find a little comfort in the few hours remaining before we fly back out? They might be the last hours we have.”

“I don’t begrudge you comfort, Rebeke,” he said. “You deserve it. But not with me. I’m too old for you.”

“Old? I’m of age. What is a decade or so difference considering what we’ve been through?”

“A decade or so?” he asked, smiling. He nodded his chin toward the ring of ships. “You see those old women who lead your folk? I’m older than they are.”

She turned toward him, jaw dropping.

He nodded in response.

“Well,” she eventually said, “I don’t care.”

“I do,” he said gently. “Even if I didn’t, Rebeke, I’m going to leave soon. Whatever happens, I must walk away, abandon you all. I can’t stay.

“Before you object and say you wouldn’t care about that either, you’re wrong. My years haven’t given me wisdom, but they have given me knowledge. And I know, Iknow, the hurt it causes when I leave. Assuming I’ve made mistakes. Assuming I’ve let attachments grow.”

She glanced to the side, where he’d rested his hand on the fledgling bough of the growing tree—where little snaking vines had wound around his fingers. Though he tried to pull back gently, he ended up snapping them anyway.

“You could stay,” she whispered. “We could fight whatever is hunting you.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he told her, smiling gently. “You haveno idea.”

“We thought cresting a mountain was impossible, yet here we are,” she said. “We could climb your mountain too, Zellion.”

Zellion. He did like how the word sounded. Perhaps that was his now-reinforced Connection to their land, and this people. Such an odd thing, Spiritual Connection. He couldn’t even rightly say what it would do to him. Some uses of Investiture were easily quantified, others were…well, as arcane as the human soul itself.

“I’m sorry,” he told Rebeke. “But no. I can’t be this person you’re looking for.”

She looked away sharply, then slid her glove back on. She didn’t run away in shame or embarrassment, which made him feel slightly better. But she also didn’t meet his eyes as she stood there, on the top of the hill, looking up at the rings.

“I no longer want to learn to kill like you do,” she finally said, voice soft. “I don’t want to be that terrible.” She blushed again. “Not that you are…I mean—”

“It’s all right,” he said. “Itisterrible.”

“Beautiful too.”

“I used to believe that,” he said. “Though…”

She cocked her head, glancing at him.

“There was a time,” he said, “when I could stand tall even when fighting. A time before my Torment seized me.” He took in her confused stare, and felt moved to give her something. An explanation, to soften his rejection. “I was a knight,” he said, “of a very exclusive order. Two different orders actually, at two different times. For the first, I was one of their leaders, with oaths that were supposed to turn what I did from terrible into—if not beautiful—honorable. But then…”

How to explain this next part? A part he didn’t fully understand himself. “I was given charge over anextremelydangerous item. Capable of killing gods. Laying waste to planets. I carried that burden, found new bonds, but the weapon consumed important parts of me. Shredded the soul of one of my dearest friends. Stole my armor. I was left a husk of what I’d once been. Not just because of what the weapon had done to me—but because of the things I’d done.”

He clasped his hands behind his back, remembering what it felt like to wear that uniform, bear that armor, carry those oaths. “I had to ask myself, once it was all done, if honor was a sham. If it was a ruse used to make men kill one another—to let thempretendthere was a purpose to it. If that concept—the very idea of an honorable soldier—was not the most pernicious evil that had ever blighted the cosmere.”

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