The city of Thomaskweld, capital of Antal Territory, didn’t dust the slopes of its valley.
It consumed.
Where once a mighty river reigned amidst the pines, the city tamed the banks with concrete carriageways and train stations of vaulted glass, high-rises plated in decorative copper, trolleys clacking down tracks with silver energy capsules humming at their rears. Factories rose like cathedrals of sheet metal. The Summer Plane grew produce of every variety. Spring Plane flowers were unmatched, and the Autumn Plane boasted a mean maple syrup.
The Winter Plane generated energy. Workers in the power factories Shaped their magic into capsules and chips, energy to keep the city humming, to trade for what the Plane couldn’t grow or mine.
Fi led Aisinay along the river parkway, cobblestones clacking beneath hooves and cart. Pruned fir trees lined the center of the road. Along the sidewalks, copper energy conduits fed streetlamps of wrought iron and silver light. Shop windows framed in geometric metal designs displayed the latest Shaping-powered coffee kettles, books in foiled dustjackets, mannequins in embroidered fleeces with colorful scarves. Fi’s tailored blackcoat with fur collar looked tame by comparison, though her Void-and-rainbow hair drew glances from several passing pedestrians.
Other curious eyes followed her Void horse. An unusual animal, in a city of trolleys and caribou-drawn carriages.
Fi wasn’t concerned, even considering recent drama with Autumn trade wardens. Law enforcement rarely crossed territories, much less Planes. Daeyari were conscientious carnivores, one ruler per territory to space out resources, keeping competitors off their hunting grounds.
A kindness, they called it.Protectionfor their human subjects, aboonto only have to feed one predator.
Fortunately, daeyari never walked their streets alongside lowly mortals. Let the bastard roost in his capitol building; Fi had a deal to settle.
Cardigan’s address led her to a riverside hotel—a busier one than she’d have liked, but who was bothering to ask her opinion? A young man in a navy bellhop uniform hurried out the glass door to meet her. When he reached for Aisinay’s bridle, Fi’s grip tightened.
“Afternoon, miss. I can take your—”
“No, thank you.”
“We have stables in the back for—”
“No. Thank you.”
Fi slipped a small energy chip into his hand to shoo him off, then appraised the metal ribs of the building, panels of stained-glass auroras glowing with interior light. Short days, this time of year. Late afternoon, yet the sun set hours ago.
A woman stepped outside. Her wool dress fell to her calves, powder blue with fur cuffs, a contrast to dark hair and brown skin. She smiled with a demure air, a crafted calm to her strides, yet keen eyes snapped to Fi’s cart.
“Pleasant afternoon,” she greeted.
“Are you sure this is public enough?” Fi returned dryly. “I could add a sign on my cart:illicit deal occurring here, everyone please look?”
The woman tutted. “Why don’t you come inside and warm up with a drink?”
Fi ran down her mental list of reasons whynotto cuss out a client in public. She fully planned to enjoy the city’s recreations—a strong drink, a riverside bar thrumming with music and dancing, some man or woman to push her against a wall and kiss her senseless. On her own time.Aftergetting rid of the explosives harnessed to her horse.
The woman headed inside. Fi, an immaculate professional, resolved to keep this brief. After a firm chat with the bellhop to not let horse or cart out of sight, she followed.
Marble tile squeaked beneath her boots as they crossed the lobby. Energy conduits formed geometric patterns across the ceiling, more decorative than those on the street, inlaid with glass channels to display silver magic flowing into the chandeliers. The lounge was dimmer, tile replaced by plush carpet, windows swathed in cream curtains as thick as Fi’s coat.
That morning, she’d debated the appropriateness of silviamesh for civilized company, but the protective fabric hiding beneath her outerwear offered reassurance as this job turned stranger.
In a secluded corner of the lounge, Fi’s guide gestured to an armchair. The deep upholstery attempted to swallow her, a moment of flailing, but she recovered by plopping her boots upon a low table. Across from her sat another stranger, a white man with mussed hair and gaunt cheeks. Too much stress or not enough calories. Either was perilous in an eternal winter.
A plate of pastries waited on the table: layered chocolate cakes topped with raspberries and powdered sugar, ingredientsimported from warmer Planes. A clever bribe. Glasses clinked as the woman poured three shots of amber liquor, wafting a scent of anise and orange.
“I’m Milana. This is Erik.”
Fi downed her drink in one gulp then flipped the glass upside down, athunkagainst the table. The liquor left a lovely burn in her stomach. “I mean this in the kindest way possible when I say: I don’t care what your names are. I’m here with the cargo.”
Milana took a modest sip. “We appreciate the work, Miss Kolbeck.”
“I’ve found that payment is an excellent way to communicate gratitude.”
“And you’ll have it. Though, we have one more request, if you’ll entertain us.”
