Spellslinger 6: Crownbreaker

by Sebastien de Castell

  I stood there, naked to the waist, acutely aware of how stupid I must look and how dangerously comfortable Torian appeared as she removed one weapon after another, always keeping an eye on me in case I might try to jump her and end the fight early.

  ‘This is the last thing I wanted,’ I said. ‘Truth be told, I like you, Torian. A lot. You’re fearless and daring, smart as anyone I’ve ever met and surprisingly fun to be around, even when you’re arresting me. Even the squirrel cat has a crush on you.’

  ‘I’m over it,’ Reichis said in a little grumble before resuming his snoring.

  I tilted my head left then right to loosen it up. I tend to get punched in the face a lot at times like these and a tight neck makes that worse. ‘But then you went and nearly killed my mentor. You took out my friends and my business partner with poisoned darts. And now you want to kill this kid for no better reason than because you’re so stubbornly determined to follow your mission that you can’t see we’re all being played for fools.’

  She was expecting me to get into a guard position, but instead I stood with my feet together and extended my open hand towards her. Ferius had taught me to fight through the ways of dance, not violence. I hummed a few bars of a merry tune before I asked, ‘Shall we begin?’

  52

  The Rules of War

  Torian Libri was faster than me. She was better trained, less afraid of being hit (try not blinking when a fist is coming at your face) and, perhaps most important of all, more comfortable with violence.

  ‘We done yet?’ she asked.

  I was, at that moment, stumbling backwards, the steady flow of blood from my nose dripping down my lips and chin. I had a cut over my right eye that was threatening to blind me and a particularly nasty elbow to the temple had left me reeling like a drunk.

  I imagined I made a dashing sight.

  Torian? She looked fine. Great in fact. Pummelling me really seemed to really bring out the blue of her eyes.

  I can heal you, Shujan said silently.

  No, I answered back.

  I threw myself at Torian – almost literally, hurtling towards her as though a giant had tossed me in the air. There’s really no way you can do much damage to an opponent that way. Trauma comes from either delivering maximum impact in the smallest area possible, using something hard against something weak, or taking control of a joint and twisting it past its natural range of motion. What I was doing had no chance of accomplishing either of those things.

  I remembered the first time Ferius had taught me this technique. I’d asked her what possible good it could do. ‘Ain’t no way to defend if there ain’t an attack,’ she’d replied, as if those words made any sense at all. There was a certain truth to it though: trained fighters learn to deal with blows or attempted grapples. They’re never entirely sure what to do when you just appear to be falling into them. I mean, sure, Torian could have grabbed an arm and twisted it behind my back or punched me in the throat, but the lack of any visible threat on my part – the sense that I was merely stumbling around – made her hesitate.

  In country dances, women get tossed around a lot – spun, twirled and generally flung around while the men do a lot of posing. Ferius had taught me that there was a certain magic to coming out of a toss or spin gracefully. So I let Torian slip to the right, her hands ready to add to my momentum and shove me into the room’s back wall. But as she pushed, I turned with her. Now it really did look like we were dancing.

  ‘What are you—’

  ‘Weird, isn’t it?’ I said, during that brief moment when we were, in effect, waltzing.

  Torian wasn’t used to going with the flow of the dance however, so when I unexpectedly pulled hard on her waist while pushing against her shoulder, she found herself facing the other way. I gave her a good strong shove, at which it was her turn to take a stumble into the wall.

  ‘That was stupid,’ she said as she turned to face me. ‘You could have gotten your arm around my neck from behind and choked me out. I won’t give you that chance a second time.’

  While I have little knowledge of fighting arts, Shujan spoke into my mind, she appears to have a point.

  I’ll be sure to let you know if I need any more critique of my technique.

  Torian brought her fists up and began stalking me across the room again. I’d made a reasonable mental map of the available space before the fight began, so I could back my way around with reasonable confidence of not retreating into the edge of a partition or tripping over the furniture.

  ‘If you’re trying to tire me out, you’re wasting your time,’ Torian informed me. ‘I once fought a Zhuban Elite for nearly two days without rest, and he was popping lightning weed into his mouth every hour.’

  ‘Impressive,’ I said.

  A smile crossed her face as she closed the distance between us. ‘He certainly thought so.’

  ‘No, I meant it was impressive that he could swallow that much lightning weed without giving himself a heart attack. Also, doesn’t excessive use of lightning weed cause painful erections in men? Maybe you won the fight by default.’

  An unexpected laugh, like a sudden cough, threw off her rhythm. I raced forward, ducked under her reflexive roundhouse and delivered what I felt was a respectable uppercut to her jaw. She stepped back before I could press my advantage and delivered a front kick that would’ve taken my head off if I’d stayed in range of her foot.

  ‘That’s the problem with you, Kellen,’ she said as she recovered her balance. ‘You treat fighting as a game.’

  A funny thing to say, because I could’ve sworn I’d once flung those same words at Ferius when she was teaching me arta eres. She’d replied, with a smirk, ‘And you keep wanting to treat it as a contest, kid.’

  ‘What else is it if not a contest?’ I’d protested. ‘Fighting is about skill, power and reflexes, isn’t it?’

  ‘Fighting? Sure, kid. Fightin’s all of those things,’ she’d replied, backing away from me. ‘But like I keep telling you over and over and over again, the Argosi don’t have no fighting ways.’

  ‘Then what is arta eres supposed to be?’ I had asked, advancing on her.

  It was right about then that I fell into a sinkhole and found myself tumbling down until I finally rolled to a stop arse over teakettle.

  ‘Arta eres is about winning, kid. And if you need skill, power and reflexes to win, then you ain’t doin’ it right.’

  Fascinating, Shujan’s voice echoed in my head.

  You can see into my memories?

  When you’re focusing on them.

  Torian snuck under my guard and backhanded me so hard I thought my jaw would come off.

  Which seems an odd thing to do in the middle of battle, Shujan added.

  I fell back, rolling into a rather messy backwards somersault on the floor, nearly impaling myself on the assortment of weapons strewn there. My vision went blurry for a moment as I got back up a little too fast.

  Torian was getting used to my fighting style – if you can call prancing around drunkenly a style. Didn’t matter though. Everything was going according to plan.

  ‘Your reflexes aren’t bad,’ Torian said, after I’d dodged a flurry of kicks. ‘You could’ve been a tough opponent with better training.’

  She pressed her advantage, forcing me back and not giving me the room to manoeuvre. Soon I’d end up in a corner and then it would all be over. ‘All that Argosi dancing of yours though? You’ve barely landed any punches.’

  ‘The only punch that matters is the last one,’ I said, backing up again. I figured I had another three feet between me and the corner next to the bed.

  ‘Too bad for you that you’re out of room and out of tricks.’

  I smiled at that. ‘Didn’t I tell you once, Torian? I’ve always got one more trick left.’

  My hands came up, fingers forming the somatic shape of my spell, and I said, with deadly finality, ‘Carath!’

  ‘Son of a—’

  Torian’s arms came up
to protect her face. Before she realised nothing had happened, I’d already barrelled into her, sending us both falling onto the bed. Our momentum kept us rolling, and I grabbed the edge of the blanket, causing the two of us to get wrapped up inside it. By the time we landed on the floor on the other side of the bed, we were cocooned together inside the blanket, neither of us able to get the distance needed to land a decent strike.

  Ground fighting is its own sort of art, and one in which, as with all forms of violence, I was confident Torian was my superior. She’d already spun us around so she was on top of me, her elbow pressed into my neck.

  I guess she felt something, because she gave a chuckle. ‘Why, Kellen – is that a knife I feel pressing up against my thigh, or are you just glad to see me?’

  Her breath was like a warm breeze on my face, and when a drop of the sweat from her forehead fell into my mouth, I found it unexpectedly sweet.

  ‘That would be a knife,’ I replied. ‘Yours in fact.’

  At first her expression was one of disbelief, then confusion, and finally outrage. ‘You cheated, you lousy—’

  ‘I promised not to use any of my weapons. Never said anything about using yours. Oh, and in case you’re wondering, the edge of the blade is pressed against the artery on your thigh. Make me so much as twitch and you’re going to be bleeding a long time.’

  She stared at me awhile, eyes locked on mine. They really were remarkable, especially when they were searching so deeply, the totality of her being focused entirely on me, trying to discern if I’d really do it. She tried subtly pressing her elbow down, just a bit, on my throat. I responded with commensurate pressure with the knife. I imagine the two of us, lying there on top of each other, wrapped in a blanket, must’ve looked pretty ridiculous.

  ‘What now?’ Torian asked finally.

  ‘How about this? I remove the blade, you take your elbow away from my throat, and then the two of us get out of this ridiculous blanket without resorting to any more violence.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘Then we do things my way.’

  It wasn’t an answer, or at least not one she liked, but she seemed to give it due consideration regardless. ‘Well,’ she said at last, withdrawing her elbow, ‘whatever else you are, you’re not a coward.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, and carefully removed the blade.

  Getting ourselves out of the blanket and back to our feet was awkward and mutually embarrassing. It was only when we were both standing there, staring at each other, that I realised somewhere in all of that I’d lost the knife.

  ‘You’re not a coward, but you are kind of an idiot,’ Torian said, showing me the blade. ‘You ought to have figured out by now that no matter how badly I might want to beat you fair and square, I never let my feelings get in the way of protecting my queen.’

  ‘And you should’ve learned how Kellen fights,’ Nephenia said.

  With seamless fluidity and grace, Torian spun on her heel and threw the blade with perfect accuracy. It met the ironcloth fabric Nephenia was holding out in front of herself and clattered to the floor. An angry bundle of fur descended from the ceiling, landing on Torian’s head and wrapping himself around her, his glider flaps blinding her. ‘He may be dumb, and hideous to look at, but my partner’s always got one more trick,’ Reichis chittered.

  There are times when I really do love that thieving, homicidal squirrel cat.

  ‘Such purdy eyes,’ he purred, claws pressed at the ridges of Torian’s eye sockets.

  53

  The Peace

  For someone who hates the Argosi so much, Torian Libri had a remarkable command of arta valar.

  ‘What now?’ she asked, showing not a shred of fear despite the very real possibility that she was about to lose her eyeballs down a squirrel cat’s gullet. ‘You planning to kill me? If you’re squeamish you could just get your girlfriend to knock me out with one of those Jan’Tep sleep toys of hers and leave me for the Arcanists. I’m sure they’ll get the job done. After a while.’

  Nephenia bridled at that. ‘I don’t use sleep spells and I don’t leave people to be tortured.’

  I walked over to Torian and motioned for Reichis to get off her head. He made a few grumbling noises about squirrel cats’ traditional rights of revenge for skinbags who’d knocked them out with poisoned darts, but finally complied, jumping onto my shoulder.

  ‘The way I see it,’ I began, measuring my words carefully to prevent the situation getting out of hand again, ‘you pretend to give in, leave this temple with us, wait for your shot to try to kill Shujan again. Chances are it won’t work, but in the process we’ll probably get captured or killed and the queen will lose her two best protectors. Alternatively …’

  She watched me closely, peering through the windows of those deep indigo eyes of hers. ‘Let me guess. You want me to join your little troupe of travelling snake-oil salesmen peddling hope and kindness to the assembled armies of a continent on the brink of war?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  She shook her head in disbelief. ‘Kellen, in the time we’ve known each other, I’ve jailed you, lied to you, poisoned you and beaten you half to death. Why would you trust me now?’

  It was my turn to hold her gaze. ‘Because not once has the outcome been what you expected, and I don’t think you became one of the most legendary marshals in the service by repeating the same mistakes over again.’

  ‘Even if I agree, how will you know I’m not just lying and biding my time?’

  ‘Because even an outlaw knows that every once in a while you’ve just got to trust people.’ I grinned. ‘Besides, I’m pretty sure I’ve got this mesmerising thing figured out now, so it’s not like you have a choice.’

  Torian tried to keep a stoic expression, but it’s hard to keep your emotions in check after a fight. Me? I usually start bawling like a three-year-old who’s just dropped his dessert.

  Torian broke out laughing. ‘Okay, card player, we’ll try it your way.’

  Reichis sniffed the air suddenly.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked.

  ‘Stinks of jealousy, and for once it ain’t comin’ from you.’ His head swivelled towards Nephenia. ‘Heh.’

  ‘What did he say?’ she asked.

  ‘Nothing. He’s just hungry again.’

  Ishak yipped up at her. I was coming to learn that the hyena had a poor sense of discretion.

  ‘I am not jealous,’ Nephenia said, eyes narrowing as she stared daggers at Reichis.

  ‘Hey, I calls ’em like I smells ’em,’ he replied.

  Torian found it all tremendously amusing. ‘Yeah, this is definitely the group I’d send to negotiate an impossible peace treaty between warring nations.’

  ‘The marshal has a point,’ Nephenia said. ‘What’s your plan, Kellen?’

  I looked over at Shujan, who was watching us intently. I suppose he’d never seen the chaos of normal human beings up close before. ‘You still want to figure out what kind of god you should be?’

  He nodded.

  I glanced around the room, filled with trinkets and books and games, where viziers instructed him in what to believe and Arcanists sought to inscribe his destiny on his skin, where his only exposure to the outside world was being paraded on a balcony to look down upon the faces of adoring worshippers waiting for him to perform his miracles. How could anyone know themselves when their lives were so utterly circumscribed by the beliefs of others? In a way, he reminded me of myself before I’d met Ferius Parfax. Before I’d ever left the confining oasis of my own nation, my own people.

  ‘Fancy going for a walk?’ I asked.

  54

  The Patsy

  Sneaking back down the spire, floor by floor, knowing our next step could see us surrounded by enemies, reminded me a lot of the nights I’d stayed up shuffling little wooden pieces around a hexagonal board with Keliesh, the commander of the penitent army. Shujan is often played with a set of sandglasses, some of which give you several minutes to
choose your next move, others only seconds. In shujan, as in life, delay can cost you the game. So can haste.

  Torian stopped at the end of the passage, pumping her fist twice in the air. I nearly tripped over her. She made a gesture with her hand, spreading her fingers out wide then holding up just three. I assumed this was a signal of some sort, but never having trained with the marshals, I had no idea what it meant.

  ‘Eight coming,’ she mouthed silently when it became obvious I hadn’t understood.

  It will be one of my viziers and his attendants, Shujan informed me. It is time for my lessons.

  In the middle of the night? I asked silently.

  My lessons take place six times a day, each with one of six different viziers.

  One for each of the six codices? I asked.

  Yes. They always come individually, their lessons spread throughout the day. I believe each of my viziers fears the teachings of the others risk polluting my education.

  Six different viziers proselytising from six different holy books, hoping theirs would be the interpretation that shaped the god Shujan would one day become.

  We waited in the shadows as a procession of robed figures passed by. The first was a man shorter than me and skinny, despite a protruding little belly that strained the silk of his vizier’s vestments. On either side servants with shaved heads and smooth skin attended him. One suffered under the prodigious weight of a massive book, its thick wood-bound cover holding hundreds of pages, each of which must have been two feet tall. Yet the attendant bore the awkward burden as he walked without any word of complaint.

  On the other side, a second shaved figure periodically reached over and turned the pages for the vizier to read aloud. Neither attendant seemed to see the world around them, which made sense once I caught sight of their milky-white eyes. They were blind.