Page 4 of Sunsplitter

“Miss Kolbeck? I found the key to the room you were asking about—”

“No longer needed,thank you.”

She burst out the door, the cold air of the Winter Plane sharp in her lungs, snow-dusted cobblestones underfoot. Salt stained the breeze. Sleek-winged seabirds chanted overhead, circling the harbors of Calvariz, the largest port city in Antal Territory.

Fi whistled.

Her only reply was the cackle of a gull perched on a post.

Notinsignificantlyperturbed by the empty street, she crossed the avenue and skidded to a halt at the metal railing atop a quay wall, boots digging trenches through shoveled slush. Below, harbor water roiled black and cold.

“Aisinay!”

Ghostly silver rippled beneath the water. A scaled horse head breached the surface, finned ears raised, milky-blind eyes pointing in Fi’s general direction. Aisinay paddled, remnants of fish scales in her fangs as she snorted a contented nose full of salt water.

Fi ran the mental calculations of how long it would take toget her Void horse out of the water. An added consideration for the logistics of riding said very wet Void horse.

“Ugh. Never mind! I’ll be back!”

She ran after the fleeing smuggler.

Calvariz sounded like a harbor city, a din of voices from waterside markets and warehouses, the creak of sailing ships roped to piers. Itsmelledlike a harbor city, like fresh fish and fried fish and salt coating old cobblestone. Fi crossed over trolley tracks then banked down a staircase to the main waterfront, aiming to cut off her quarry.

True to her new aspirations of decency, Fi wore respectable clothes today: calf-high leather boots, riding pants in black and maroon. Her coat was Void black, crimson decorating the sleeves, a mix of embroidery and polished stone as bright as blood spatter.

Red as daeyari energy. Fi was still settling into the color, the badge of her new office.

Respectable attire wasn’t made for sprinting after smugglers.

The tailored jacket cramped her arms as she ran, the boots too slick on pavement. Her hair tangled in the ocean breeze, Void-black roots flaring into pastel rainbow.

The vibrant attire made her look like a force to steer clear of, at least. People vacated her path, shrinking into alcoves of clothing shops and heated restaurant patios, though the crowd grew denser as she neared the harborside transit terminal. Fi shoved her way inside. Dark granite tile rumbled beneath footsteps. Bronze struts hoisted a domed-glass ceiling, casting the atrium in strained Winter sunlight.

Fi skipped the line and vaulted over the ticket checkpoint. A trade warden in a dark blue uniform protested, “Wait, you can’t—”

“Official territory business!” Fi shouted back.

No one else tried to stop her. Shit in the Void, if she’d known claiming to be a territory official was so easy, she’d have had fewer close calls with law enforcement in the past.

Several platforms ran along train tracks, copper-plated signs lit up with Winter Plane destinations of Runeyska, Thomaskweld, Sunip.

On another platform, a line of translucent Curtains hung in the air, thin spots in reality. Curtains were doors to step off this Plane, onto a Shard. Shards were a path to other Planes, smaller fragments of reality, stepping stones between worlds. Since most humans couldn’tseeCurtains, stone arches framed each doorway, a city-employed Voidwalker guiding travelers through to the station on the other side, more trains heading to the Planes of Summer, Spring, Autumn.

A dumb, panicking smuggler would flee through one of those public Curtains.

A smart smuggler would slip through the less busy Curtains in the cargo terminal.

The world quieted as Fi rounded a back hallway. She slipped into the shipping warehouse, slowing to survey every aisle, containers of metal and energy capsules exporting out of Winter, imports of Summer Plane melons, Autumn hardwood, fresh Spring alfalfa…

A flash of movement alerted her. She tackled the figure slinking along the wall.

“Void-damned cock-sucking son of bitch—”

The smuggler hit the floor in a flurry of curses. He was lean-built, dark-skinned, beard groomed short and locks tied into a tail. His wool coat had an interior lining of silk-light, steel-tough silviamesh armor. Exquisite quality. Someone was doing well for himself.

He tried, unsuccessfully, to flail free. Fi dragged him into theprivacy of the nearest room—an empty customs office, which she found at least mildly ironic. Only once she had him cornered did he finally draw a weapon. A metal dagger hilt flashed in his hand, then a spark of silver, human energy Shaped to form a glowing blade.

Cute.