Page 84 of Sunsplitter

It was like tracking the path of a shooting star. Along the street, most humans startled from Antal’s path, but for those he managed to corner, he need only ask:The frightening woman with the red hair. Did she pass by?They pointed him along the avenue. Across a trolley track and down an alley, to a building that smelled of hard liquor. A tavern.

When Antal stepped inside, the room went silent.

The patrons froze in stop-motion. Clay cups paused against lips, cards half dealt, a guitarist in the corner with fingers pressed to the strings. At the bar, a stool creaked.

“Oh, fuck,” Fionamara said. “That’s for me.” She patted the arm of a sun-weathered man, his one good eye squinted at the daeyari. “Thanks for everything, Rori. A delight as always.”

She tossed a small energy chip to the bar. Blew a kiss to the bartender.

“Take care, Sylvana. All my best to the kids.”

Fionamara sauntered across the room, waving her fingers at the silent occupants. She’d hung her coat over one arm, down to skin-tight silviamesh and a wicked grin. Antal waited with a glower. Conniving woman, thinking she could smooth his hackles with one smile.

She was right. But she didn’t need to know that. He held the door open for her.

“I thought you’d take longer,” she said. “Does that mean…”She stepped outside with a squint—then a scowl, at three daeyari waiting on the street. “Oh. All of you came. Isn’t that fun.”

Impatience seeped off Avroz like harbor fog. Antal touched Fionamara’s waist—whether to keep her from lunging at someone, or running off on another side venture.

“Jazst was little help,” Antal said. “There’s only been one fire. No trail beyond that.”

Fionamara scoffed. “Well,that’snot true.”

“… Excuse me?”

She dug into her coat pocket. “There’s been five mystery fires in the past month.At least.That’s just what I got from talking to people for half an hour. Look, I made a list.”

She held up a crumpled tavern napkin, a mysterious wet spot on one corner. Antal plucked it from her fingers and read the scrawled list. Locations. Dates. Names of contacts.

Brilliant, this woman. She had to be careful with that. Brilliant could be dangerous.

“Are you calling the daeyari here aliar?” Avroz said.

His words honed with accusation. Fionamara braced fists on her hips, opened her mouth. Then frowned, casting a sideways look to Antal.

In seasonspeak, she asked, “How do I say,put on your brakes, Gramps, in daeyari? I don’t knowbrakes.” She scrunched her nose. “OrGramps.”

Antal bit down every curse on his tongue. Merciless Void, he loved this woman. And she really would be the death of him.

“He knows seasonspeak,” Antal muttered.

“Oh!” Fionamara said brightly. “That’s convenient.”

Avroz listened, radiating a truly impressive lack of amusement.

Syvr, who also knew seasonspeak, nearly lost the brows from their face. A series of rapid blinks seemed to be fighting a laugh.

Ixli, who didn’t know seasonspeak, had equal glares for everyone.

“I’msaying,” Fionamara continued in daeyari, “the daeyari here doesn’t know.”

Avroz’s eyes narrowed. “Why wouldn’t he know what happens in his own territory?”

“Because daeyari are scary?” Fionamara gestured to the street—empty, since four daeyari had appeared. “Humans avoid talking to you. You think they report every little thing to their Lord Daeyari? Never. They’ll report the important shit. And the less important shit, they settle on their own. Random houses burning down? That’s the lowest rung of less important shit.”

Antal regretted teaching her daeyari curses first. It was what she’d asked for.

Avroz’s eyes were burgundy slits. His tail, a warning coil.