4
Casual cross-reality breaking-and-entering
Fi practiced her morning serenity by ordering the largest, frothiest, most caramel-drenched coffee she could find amongst Thomaskweld’s cafes.
She devoured a staggering quantity of pancakes topped with cream and Summer strawberry compote, a warm core to guard against the frigid winds down the valley, replenished energy reserves for whatever bullshit awaited her today.
She bought a heap of the freshest icefish in the river market, presenting them to Aisinay while telling her how she was such a good horse, she was in the fact thebestVoid horse in all the Shattered Planes for tolerating these rude people and their crates of energy capsules. Aisinay munched her meal with finned tail swishing, successfully bribed.
At last, Fi hooked up her cart, groaned to the sky for precisely five seconds, then headed out to meet Milana.
Even near noon, the sun barely crested the encircling mountains, casting Thomaskweld in lavender. The central parkway bustled despite the gloom, bright with shopfronts and capsule-powered heaters on cafe patios, a hum of voices warring against the clatter of passing trolleys.
Quieter, as Fi neared the capitol complex. A wide avenue and a wall of red stone separated the main city from severalblocks of gardens and government offices, gates of tall wrought iron to regulate public entry. Beyond the barrier rose the city’s most ornate buildings: the plated copper and glass of the trade warden headquarters, silver arches of the treasury, a dome of aurora green and blue atop the courthouse.
A crowd gathered at the main entry gate.
Fi tensed instinctively at any public gathering, rare as they were. Doubly so when angry murmurs perked her ears. Even her small provincial school taught every student the dangers of organizing. Teachers with tight smiles explaining it was best to never cause a fuss. Any concerns should be submitted to the governor’s office, or to the daeyari’s personal attendants. They were here to help, after all, to keep the territory safe. Even the midnight-clad guards met the crowd at the gate without weapons.
Everyone knew which creature enforced the rules.
Fi led Aisinay past the crowd, not close enough to be construed as part of them, enough to eavesdrop…
“When will the governor speak with us?” someone asked.
“The district still has no power,” called another. “Tonight will be even colder!”
“My daughter has the silver sickness. Another cold snap will put her in the hospital!”
“Your complaints have been received,” a guard said with pacifying hand movements. “They’ll be shared with the governor. In the meantime—”
As Fi passed out of earshot, she pursed plum-painted lips, appraising the copper energy conduits humming down the avenue—daeyari technology, one of the immortals’ more generous gifts, as part of the pact. Now, every human city depended on them. Neglecting basic infrastructure didn’t bode well for the territory’s human governor, come next election year.
The ruling daeyari bore equal responsibility. Larger cities fed most of the territory’s sacrifices: everything from wealthy houses trying to curry favor, to a desperate laborer trying to lift their family’s fortune. For some people, those lives lost were a drop in the Void compared to Thomaskweld’s dense population, a negligible price to pay for reliable infrastructure and protection from other daeyari.
Narcissistic assholes had probably never had to sacrifice a family member. Or been dragged in as an offering themselves.
Aisinay huffed as she walked, lowering finned ears and the spines down her neck.
“Agreed,” Fi muttered back. “Something’sweirdin this city. But we’ll be back home in Nyskya by tonight, then you can spend a whole week eating trout and spooking Bodie in the middle of the night.”
Between the capitol complex and the river, Fi reached a public park full of old cedar trees, snow crusting red trunks and drooping boughs. She’d arrived, as usual, a half hour early—and was admittedly a little impressed to find Milana already waiting for her.
Cold stabbed Fi’s gut, seeing what the woman was wearing.
A momentary slip. Fi had no control over how her heart jolted at the sight of the silver robes with fur-lined collar. A swell of nausea at swirls of Void-black embroidered up the sleeves. The attire of a daeyari attendant.
Equally instinctive, she snapped her stupor behind a wall of bristles, not a single crack in her arched brow and dry tone as she appraised the bold disguise.
“What the fuck are you wearing?”
“Good morning!” Milana greeted brightly. “Timely, I see.”
“If it means we can get this over with—”
“Yes, thank you for your help with ournewest renovationproject,” Milana chirped over her. “Right this way with the supplies, if you please.”
Fi’s brow arched higher as she followed Milana down a stone path beneath the cedars.
