Page 97 of The Sunlit Man

“I came via Shadesmar,” he said.

“There’s no perpendicularity here.”

“Got shoved through by a temporary one,” he lied. “I was travelingthis way but didn’t intend to stop. Now I’m stuck. It was the strangest thing. Don’t know if I can even explain it.”

“Therearestrange events on this planet,” the woman said, folding her arms. Like the man, she wore modern clothing. Black jeans, a lab coat, one of the fancy shirts their space force loved.

“We’ll be leaving soon,” the man said. “Travel is dangerous these days. We could use someone who can fight. You’ve done mercenary work, I assume, if you have a Blade?”

Zellion nodded.

“Excellent,” the man said, clapping his hands. “You’re hired.”

“Hired?” Confidence said, finally shaking out of her awed stupor. “But—”

“I’m not interested in a job,” Zellion said. “I’m already working for these people. I want to negotiate for you to help them.”

“Please, dwellers in the Refuge,” Rebeke said, dropping to her knees. “Please. Let us join you. We are hard workers, with strong souls. We have rejected the Cinder King’s terrible ways and have overcome so much to get to you.Please.”

“You? Join us?” the woman said, sounding amused. “We’re basically at capacity as it is. What do you think we are? A charity?”

“Listen,” Zellion said, stepping closer to the two of them. “Have you been watching what’s going on above?”

“We have a few of the locals already,” the man said, “to use as subjects in our research. We could use one or two more, I suppose, but that’s it. Really, what we need are those sunhearts, but we already have a supplier of those.”

“Supplier?” Zellion asked. “How did you…” It clicked. “The Cinder King. Guy with the glowing eyes. He’s been meeting with you?”

“Delivers us things we need now and then,” the woman said.“And we give him little tidbits of technology or knowledge. These people had little idea how to exploit their native Investiture.”

Storms. The Cinder King hadn’t beentryingto get into this place—he’d accomplished it, likely years ago. That was probably how he’d learned to make Charred, how he got the bracers to control them. He hadn’t been protecting this place because he wanted to escape into it; he had been using it as the secret source of his power.

“Listen,” Zellion said, “that man is a tyrant.”

“And?” the woman said.

“What are their problems to us?” the man said. “You’re a mercenary, Rosharan. You know there are dozens of these little planets scattered around, all with their own backward monarchies and their own stupid ways of doing things. What, you want us to take in everyone who is having a bad day?”

“I…”

The objections were obvious. But he found he couldn’t make them because he’d known all along what would happen here. He’d beenplanningfor it to happen. Farther into the room, sitting on a nearby table, was a glowing jar. Dor, they called it. A kind of pure Investiture which he could use to activate another Skip, to escape this world, to run to another planet. Just as he’d hoped. This was why he’d come.

What else had he been expecting?

He’d gotten the Beaconites to the door, then through it. That’s what he’d promised. And they’d known. He’d warned them multiple times.

As words failed him, the others tried. “Please, may we negotiate?” Confidence said. “May we invoke, if not your sense of mercy or justice, your sense of commerce? What can we trade you for our safety?”

The two just gave her amused looks. If the Scadrians had wantedanything from these people, they’d have taken it—they likely used the Cinder King as an intermediary more out of convenience than anything else.

“We don’t need anything,” the man said to the trio of Beaconites. “You may go now; continue your own squabbles. We’re not interested in interfering.”

“You could destroy the Cinder King’s ship,” Zellion said, feeling the need to try once more. “The sun will soon rise. You could take this people in only until the light passes us. You…you could dosomething?”

“You are welcome to stay and take our offer, Rosharan,” the woman said, her attention trailing away. “We’ve heard your plea. That’s all that we’re required to do by interplanetary law. The locals will need to see to their own troubles.”

The man nodded, then gestured toward the elevator, his posture stern. They didn’t look armed, but Zellion knew from experience that groups like this were far from weak, even the scientists. Though he’d said he’d prefer a physical fight earlier, he doubted he could take this entire group. If he even had the heart to try. Which right now…he just didn’t.

“You were right, Zellion,” Rebeke whispered, still kneeling. “You tried to warn us. There is no refuge here.”

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