Nyx Cormorant had been out all night. Her hair was matted, her tunic filthy and her lip split, but as she gambolled down the broad, gaslit ...
Nyx Cormorant had been out all night. Her hair was matted, her tunic filthy and her lip split, but as she gambolled down the broad, gaslit avenues of Marblesea, the triumph in her gait was unmistakable. She flicked her arcboard open and shut as she jubilantly if tunelessly – whistled The Battle Hymn of the Sankaritar. The fierce summer sun had just cast its first rays of electric tangerine out over the ocean, so no one was about to hear the verboten tune – not that it would have stopped her.
Nyx had just won her third race of the night. It was a personal best. Bulls from all across the Empire were in town for the festival and it seemed every last one of them was preening manfully at the thought of levying a successful bid for one of the famed Brides of Atlantis. It had been easy to bait races all night.
First, there had been the hapless cadet on a glorified velocipede that was no match for her arcboard. She bested him easily, not far from Sennespay Hospital. Then there had been the bemedalled but slightly soused Valtamerian who had kept his lead all along Broadwalk and ultimately conceded defeat...
