Spellslinger: The fantasy novel that keeps you guessing on every page

by Sebastien de Castell

  ‘They’re debts? For saving your life?’

  She nodded. ‘Every one of these is a life I have to pay back.’

  I reached into my own trousers and pulled out the dark red card she’d forced me to take the day she’d gone on about debts. ‘And this is a life I have to pay back.’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘So … you just gave up on revenge for your people?’

  Ferius looked up at the night sky, where the flames still burning around us lit up her face, making her suddenly terrifying. ‘No, kid, I just figured out that no matter how many Jan’Tep I killed, I’d never be able to bring my own people back.’ She dropped the smoking reed and stamped it out with the heel of her boot. ‘The Argosi believe that the world hangs on a delicate balance. Some things – like the way your people abuse magic, like the way the Daroman roll over the rest of the world with their empire – those things bring us closer to destruction. Other things, sometimes just little things, they help push us the other way. Reckon if I can’t bring my people back, least I can do is save the world.’ She reached out a hand and held my arm, just for a moment. ‘Feel like helping?’

  I reeled back, as much from her words as her unusual gentleness. How could anyone live that kind of life? How could she sit back and let the people who had murdered her tribe just keep living in the same cities they’d stolen from them? I looked down at Ra’meth and remembered the look on my uncle’s face as the bolt of fire had burst through his chest. ‘I don’t think I’m like you, Ferius.’

  ‘Never asked you to be.’ She walked over to where Reichis lay on the ground and very gently scooped him up and placed him in a bag that she slung over her shoulder. ‘Tough little bastard, isn’t he?’ She looked over to me. ‘You’ve got a decision to make, kid. There’s a little shack a few miles out of town. Fella there knows some healing ways. Figure he can help the squirrel cat. He also brews up some kind of drink that makes a sane person’s head spin round and round. It’s a safe bet that I’ll be there a few hours. If you want to learn the Argosi path, come find me.’ She put a foot into the stirrup and got up on the horse. ‘If not, well, then I reckon that’s one less card I have to worry about.’

  She started turning the horse around and I was struck by the thought that I might never see her again. ‘Wait,’ I said, struggling to find some excuse to make her slow down. ‘The card I saw you painting at the oasis … the dowager magus thought you were here because there was something that you believed could make civilisations rise or fall. Was she right?’

  She turned back. ‘Canny old bird, wasn’t she?’ Ferius reached a hand carefully across her chest so as not to disturb Reichis and pulled a card from her waistcoat. ‘Finished this while I was waiting to make sure your sister would be okay.’ She flipped the card through the air at me and I caught it in my hand.

  ‘You’re giving this to me?’

  ‘Depends. If all you’re planning on doing with your life is killing Ra’meth, then you might as well tear it up for all I care.’

  ‘What if …? What if I don’t kill him? What if I come find you?’

  She grinned. ‘Then make sure to bring the card with you, kid, cos I’ll need it for my deck.’

  ‘Why?’

  She kicked her horse and started down the path. ‘Because that card might just change the world.’

  As Ferius disappeared from view I turned the card over and finally saw what she’d been painting ever since she’d come to town. It was, as Mer’esan had predicted, one of the discordances. The inscription at the bottom said ‘Spellslinger’. It was a painting of a young man standing in front of an open road with a squirrel cat sitting on his shoulder and fire in his hands. The figure looked just like me.

  46

  The Mage’s Trial

  An hour later I was dragging Ra’meth’s unconscious body up the sandy street that led to the court of the lords magi. My horse had developed a limp in his step a quarter-mile back and, figuring enough people and animals had already died for me, I slung Ferius’s pack on my shoulder and walked the rest of the way. Now I had a limp.

  One of the guards out front caught sight of me about twenty feet from the steps to the oasis. They were crowded with families each awaiting their child’s turn to face the court and learn the verdict of their mage’s trial. ‘Stop where you are,’ the guard called out. He was a big man, I guessed in his forties. As he ran towards me he kept his hands at his sides, fingers forming the shapes that told me he was probably a chaincaster. I was getting sick of those.

  I stopped, still looking past him at the families on the steps. I recognised several of the initiates from my class. They recognised me too, and turned away. The slight didn’t bother me. I was more baffled by the fact that, despite our clan very nearly having been taken over by rebellion and conspiracy, Jan’Tep life still revolved around deciding who would get to be a mage and who would become a servant.

  ‘Just dropping something off,’ I told the guard, and let go of the collar of Ra’meth’s robes. I rubbed at my shoulder, partly to show I wasn’t about to attempt any spells and partly because, well, my shoulder hurt.

  The people on the steps started shuffling towards us, peering down at the unconscious form next to me. It took only a few seconds before they realised who it was, and about two seconds more before they started coming for me.

  ‘Stay back!’ The cold determination in my mother’s voice surprised me. I turned to see her striding towards us, the long flowing fabric of her dress dancing in the night breeze. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked me, her eyes still on the guards trying to approach.

  ‘He’s attacked one of the lords magi,’ the guard in front of me said.

  I thought that was a little unfair. After all, how did they know I hadn’t just saved Ra’meth from somebody else? It didn’t really matter though, because when my mother turned to face the guards, she looked a good deal scarier than I did. ‘Kellen stopped a murderer from taking over our clan,’ she said, then turned to me, and I guessed from her expression that Ferius must have told her what had happened. ‘He saved my daughter.’

  The gratitude in her smile was so pure, so genuine, that I don’t think she could possibly have understood that the other side of that coin was how obvious it was that she saw me not as a son, but as a kind of treasured servant. I had done my duty, which was to protect Shalla.

  I decided I could live with that. ‘Is she all right?’

  ‘She is disoriented, but recovers quickly. She wanted to come but we felt—’

  ‘It’s better she not be here,’ I said, not wanting to know any more about my parents’ feelings than was necessary.

  My mother looked down at Ra’meth. ‘You let him live.’

  ‘I did,’ I said.

  She held my gaze a long time before turning to the court guards. ‘Take Ra’meth prisoner. Bind him with copper and silver. He will be made to answer for his crimes.’

  I suppose I’d never really thought about just how powerful a mage my mother was. For all her strength, she’d always deferred to my father. I wondered now, seeing how the others reacted to her, why she let him stand as the head of our family. I guess I really don’t understand my own people all that well.

  There was a certain amount of confused shuffling about as the guards did as my mother commanded. She had no formal authority over them, but I doubt they wanted to risk angering a woman whose magic was practically making the air ripple around her.

  ‘The council will want the boy taken into custody,’ the leader of the guards told her, motioning to me.

  I caught just enough of a flash of uncertainty in my mother’s expression that I decided to answer before she could. ‘Tell the lords magi that I’ll be with them momentarily,’ I said. ‘I feel like sitting down for a minute.’

  My mother nodded. ‘I will inform the council that you will see them when you’re ready.’ She squeezed my shoulder. ‘I know you’ll do what’s right.’

  Her last sentence echoed in my head like o
ne of the fundamental spells we used to practise as children, uttering each syllable a dozen different ways, trying to find its perfect articulation, then how it related to the next syllable, until we could comprehend the full meaning. I know you’ll do what’s right.

  I walked over to the steps and sat down heavily, reaching into Ferius’s pack that was still slung on my back and pulling out a small flask. I opened it and drank without checking the contents – possibly a mistake since it burned my tongue at first. A moment later the warmth snaked down my throat and into my belly. After that I started feeling a bit light-headed. I’d just had my first taste of liquor.

  Maybe I should get drunk before I go see the council.

  A few minutes of drinking brought me to a strange clarity. Why was I still sitting there, on the steps of the court? I should have been finding another horse and getting myself out of town as quickly as possible.

  It wasn’t that I was afraid of being taken captive by the council at this point. I knew too much, and though sometimes that can be a dangerous thing, there were many other people who also knew something had happened. They knew there had been a conspiracy to take over the clan. Powerful people would want answers, and if I was suddenly imprisoned, that would just raise more questions.

  So it wasn’t fear of retribution that kept me sitting on those steps; I was just afraid of leaving everything I’d ever known behind.

  ‘Kellen?’

  I looked up to see Nephenia standing barely two feet in front of me. Her long dark hair was draped over shoulders left uncovered by her long white celebration gown – a garment identical to those of several other students waiting their turn in front of the council in anticipation of completing their trials. Her arms were crossed in front of her, each hand clinging on to the opposite elbow for dear life. She looked beautiful and miserable in equal measure.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.

  She opened her mouth to speak, then took in a breath and sniffed. Her lips started to tremble. ‘I … I’m sorry, it’s stupid. It’s nothing.’ She reached up a shaking hand to wipe at a tear that hadn’t yet formed. ‘I’m going to be Sha’Tep.’

  ‘What? Why? You’ve had your trial? But you passed the tests. How could—’

  She looked up towards the entrance to the court. ‘I’m due to go in next, but Master Osia’phest already came out and told me … I think he didn’t want me to be surprised. I have no secret to bring to the council, none that matters to them anyway.’

  I almost laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of the situation. Most of the initiates here, standing proud in their celebration garb, had no secret that mattered to anyone. It was, as much as anything, a formality. So why did they go to the trouble of deciding in advance that Nephenia would fail? The answer was simple of course. She had made enemies by not siding with Tennat and Panahsi and the others. Their parents must have slipped word to the council members that they wanted Nephenia shunned, and her own family had little influence or power.

  We are such a small people, I thought. For all our magic, we’re scared, paranoid little children trying to protect ourselves from the bullies of the world by becoming bigger bullies ourselves.

  I found myself just staring at her. I don’t think I’d ever seen a person that perfectly and utterly despondent in my entire life. You can’t sit in the face of that kind of pain and do nothing, so I decided to try a spell.

  I stood, very slowly, and carefully extended both my hands, palms up. I waited for a long time as she looked at me, nervousness gradually changing to curiosity as she became more confident this wasn’t some kind of trick. Finally I felt the warmth of her palms on mine. ‘I have a secret for you,’ I said.

  The surprise and hope on her face didn’t last long before she shook her head. ‘Don’t. Don’t tell me something they can use against you. I won’t be –’

  I smiled. ‘The council is going to find out anyway. Tennat and the others will be back here soon, and they’ll tell them. Nephenia, what I offer is a coin that will be worthless in a few hours. I want to spend it now, on you.’ She hesitated, still not wanting to be part of all this ugliness. ‘Please,’ I said. ‘If you don’t tell them, I will.’

  Finally she nodded. ‘All right.’

  There were too many people around so I had to whisper in her ear.

  Imagine being told that someone you care about has the worst disease imaginable, something so foul that you’re convinced just being close to them will infect you. Now add to that the deep conviction that this disease also means that person is twisted, vile on the inside. Imagine finding out that someone you know is no better than a demon waiting to attack. What do you do?

  Nephenia reached out and hugged me again, holding me close to her for a long time. Even when I tried to push her away she held on to me, gripping me so tightly I could barely breathe. I could feel her cheek against mine. ‘I’m not afraid of you, Kellen,’ she said.

  I hugged her back, as gently as I could, fighting the urge to take her face in my hands and kiss her. Just hours away from turning sixteen years old and I’d never kissed a girl. How long would it be before I ever had a chance like this again? But as much as I wanted to, as much as I think she wanted me to, my awareness grew to take in the hundreds of people around the court, no doubt staring at us. If we kissed, things would go poorly for Nephenia once people knew about my shadowblack. They would see her as tainted.

  I felt her face tilting up towards mine and I knew she’d decided to stop waiting for me. Very carefully, I stepped back out of reach. ‘No matter what anyone says, you’re going to be a great mage one day,’ I said.

  She smiled. At first it was the same shy, demure smile I’d seen on her face hundreds of times before. Then something strange happened. One corner of her mouth turned up just a little more than the other, making her somehow appear bolder, more self-assured. There was something faintly mischievous in her voice when she said, ‘What I plan to be is a woman who doesn’t wait for permission from anyone.’

  Suddenly she was pressed up against me, her lips on mine, hands reaching up to my face. I felt her fingers sliding through my hair and I wrapped my arms around her, both of us holding on to that moment, that kiss, for as long as we could.

  My whole life I’d thought I’d wanted to kiss a girl. Turns out being kissed by one is infinitely better.

  ‘Nephenia, daughter of Ena’eziat,’ a clerk called out. ‘The time of your mage’s trial has come.’

  I felt her reach around and gently remove my hands from her waist. She stepped back and smiled at me. ‘We’re going to see each other again, Kellen.’

  ‘First you need to pass your trial and become a mage. Become the best mage our clan has ever seen.’

  ‘And then?’ she asked.

  I reached up and tapped a finger on the paste Mer’esan had given me to cover the shadowblack marks around my eye. ‘Then figure out a way to cure me.’

  I didn’t see Nephenia come out of the court. By tradition, initiates enter the building through the front and leave through the back, where they are greeted by their families, either in celebration or consolation.

  So I sat there on the front steps, waiting. About two hours later, after all the rest of the council’s business was done, a clerk was sent to lead me inside.

  There were seven seats in the court chambers, each rising nearly ten feet above the floor and set on its own thick marble pillar surrounded by a spiral staircase to enable those who sat in judgment to rise to their lofty perch. Three men, one of them Master Osia’phest, and two women occupied five of the seats. Two were left empty: the one reserved for Ra’meth, and the one normally occupied by my father.

  ‘Family members must be recused from judging their own children,’ Te’oreth, deputy leader of the council, said. ‘Ke’heops cannot protect you now, boy.’

  When has he ever? I wondered. ‘As summoned, so do I appear before you, Lords Magi,’ I said, using the formal mode of address as Osia’phest had taught us when we’d beg
un preparing for our trial. The old man looked slightly relieved at my passable attempt at etiquette.

  They’re all old, I thought. Te’oreth, An’atria … all of them. If you’d asked me even a day before to describe the lords magi, I’d have told you of their specialities in magic, of their strength and power, of the stories of wondrous spells they’d cast. I would have described warriors, shining on the battlefields of this world, protecting our people from the military hordes of the Daroman and the religious zealots of the Berabesq along with all our other enemies. Now, in this stifling, ill-lit room, what I saw were old men and women hanging on to power through nothing more than ancient stories and dirty secrets.

  ‘Kneel, boy,’ Te’oreth said, motioning to the supplicantia, a set of heavy wooden stocks set into a flat, circular stone surface in the centre of the courtroom. The initiate, or prisoner, or whoever else had come to plead before the council, would place his or her wrists, palm up, in the semi-circular grooves. A guard would then slide the block in place. This had both a practical purpose – a supplicant who disputed the council’s verdict would be unable to attempt any spells – and a symbolic one: it meant you spent the entire trial on your knees with your hands out like a beggar.

  ‘I’m fine standing,’ I said.

  One of the council members started to object, but Osia’phest cut them off. ‘Let us not waste time on ceremony. Greater matters attend us.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ An’atria said, her dark eyes peering out from a thick halo of grey hair as she stared at me, ‘but do we still pretend this one comes to pass his mage’s trial?’

  ‘Why not?’ I asked, folding my arms across my chest and doing my best impression of someone entirely disinterested in the outcome of these events. ‘Today is the last day of the mage trials, I am an initiate and, as it turns out, it won’t be my sixteenth birthday for several hours yet.’