“Imelda Beru,” she says. “I didn’t know Alchemists could fly. Lucky you didn’t break your neck, girl. Take any hub you want. I’m not expecting anyone else this afternoon.”

Every house in Furia has dual connections to the Chats, but our village is a far cry from Furia, or any city with decent tech. Most homes have incoming feeds, because watching Crossing matches or the Races is a national expectation, regardless of creed or homeland. Outgoing feeds are costlier and a lot less common. I know the town hall has a few hubs. Our village’s overseeing Ashlord, Oxanos, likes to complain about how slow the feeds are in our scab of a town. Amaya’s place is the only business that’s taken a swing at the modern world.

“Thanks, Amaya,” Farian says. “Normal rates?”

She shakes her head. “Free of charge.”

Farian frowns at her. “We finally have money to pay you, and you don’t want it?”

“On the house,” she repeats. “For Imelda’s birthday.”

Farian snorts a laugh. I thank her, but both she and Farian know I hate birthdays. Farian’s played nice for once, not mentioning it all morning, but that just makes me think he’s got some stupid gift wrapped somewhere for me. Every year I dance away from the ridiculousness of the celebration, and every year it still finds me. There’s nothing worse than being celebrated for an event in which I was basically a nonparticipant.

Farian’s still laughing as we set up Amaya’s equipment. He hooks me into the first hub before hooking himself into the second. Farian knows how to work a camera, but he’s even better on the business side of things. He diverts incoming messages about our old videos to my screen. Little companies have sent us a few offers, gambling on the hope that views continue to come.

But the real cash will come from the auction he’s running for our next big advertising spot on the Trust Fall video. I watch his fingers dance over the keys. He pulls up financials on one page and starts reading through our numbers for the last twenty hours.

“We’ve almost peaked,” he says. “They’ll move on to a new video tomorrow, but we’ve already pulled more money for this than all of our other videos combined.”

It’s hard to believe. “What’s the take?”

“Three thousand legions?”

“No way,” I say, eyeing the screen over his shoulder. “There’s no way it’s that much.”

“On top of whatever we get from this final auction.”

“Music to my ears,” I say, grinning. “Where’d the views come from?”

“Riders,” he replies. “Bravos and Etzli both shared the video. Actual riders, Imelda.”

“Hey, I am an actual rider.”