“Discretion is a given, Cardigan. I need to know proper handling.”
“It’s wine. An excellent vintage, from the Autumn Plane.”
Fi drew another swirl on her clipboard, slitted eyes locked with her stubborn client. The bulk of her business came from merchants and private collectors skirting import taxes between Planes, but unless these crates packed an exquisite alcohol collection, Cardigan would be lucky to make profit after her fees. Not her problem.
“Your payment?” At the end of the day, that was all that mattered.
Cardigan pulled a metal case from his pocket. When it clicked open, Fi’s eyes widened at the velvet interior, ten metal cards set in individual slots.
The Season-Locked Planes ran on energy chips—currency for daily exchange, the backbone of every industry. Fi kept a stash of energy chips at home to power her furnace. She kept the smaller glass capsules on her gloves for aid in combat. Factories in big cities like Thomaskweld churned out the common varieties.
Butthese. Glass strips along the edges glowed not with silver human magic, but crimson. Immortal energy. Gifts from the race of daeyari who ruled the government of every territory. Compared to mortal energy chips, daeyari-made were a hundred times stronger, more valuable. This box could power a village for a month.
“Where did you get these?” Fi asked, unease knotting her stomach.
Cardigan chuckled. “Oh, you know. A daeyari passes them off to a governor. Governor slips one to a mistress. And off they go into the world.” He closed the box with a snap. “Other half is yours on delivery.”
Fi weighed the prize, jaw tight as she tallied outstanding debts, a new harness for Aisinay, maybe a second set of silviamesh.
“Load it up,” she said.
Cardigan’s assistant snapped into motion, hauling apple crates from the top row to get at the contraband underneath. Fi tugged Aisinay’s bridle, moving her cart closer for transfer. The Void horse pawed the soil, but a stroke along her scaled neck quietened her.
Fi stepped aside to let the assistant work. Unfortunately, Cardigan joined her. While she stood stoic, hands folded behind her back, he fidgeted with his suit cuffs.
“This delivery,” Cardigan said, “requires the utmost discretion.”
“I have nearly a decade of experience moving cargo between Planes of reality,” Fi recited—because business cardsalsoleft a paper trail. “I’m well familiar with navigating among all four Season-Locked Planes, and the Winter Plane especially. Your wine is in good hands.”
“You plan to take the Bridge from Autumn to Winter?”
Fi stood a little stiffer, guard raised. “Seeing as a Bridge is the only way to pass from one Plane to another? Yeah. That’s the plan.”
“What about the customs checkpoint?”
“I won’t be using any public transit routes.”
“You know another way across?”
She held back an eye roll at the poorly veiled prodding. It never worked. “A Void smuggler never shares her routes.”
Most traders and tourists crossed the Bridge from one Plane to another using well-established entrances, bustling transit hubs between worlds—complete with guards and customs officers. Morediscreetbusiness called for discreet paths, lesser-knowndoorways from one reality to the next. The more hidden routes a smuggler discovered, the greater advantage over competitors and law enforcement.
And Voidwalkers like Fi, able toseethe doorways that normal humans couldn’t? The greatest advantage of all.
Cardigan’s assistant lifted the first sealed crate. A box full of wine ought to be heavy, yet he didn’t strain as he shifted the load, producing another clink of glass. Fi scowled.
“And what about the daeyari?” Cardigan prodded.
A chill hit Fi, an old instinct buried in her bones—in the bones of every human raised across these Planes, alert for the predators who stalked their forests.
Her reply came taut. “The daeyari who rules in Thomaskweld is one of the most lenient of his species on the Winter Plane. I assume that’s why you’re shipping there.” Didn’t make the possibility of crossing paths with one of the creatures any more palatable.
“Have you ever met one?”
The chill sharpened, ice through her gut. “Once.” Once was more than enough.
“How do you deal with them?”
