‘You truly believe we would give you a mage’s name?’ Te’oreth demanded. ‘You have proven nothing during your tests other than that you are a liar, a cheat and a weakling.’
‘He has proven himself worse than that,’ added Ven’asp. ‘He has been directly involved in a conspiracy to destroy this clan.’
Osia’phest rose in his seat. ‘He is the one who stopped the conspiracy against the clan!’ he insisted. ‘At great cost to himself he put an end to Ra’meth’s attempted takeover.’
Te’oreth gave an unconvincing laugh. ‘You would paint this coward as a hero?’ He shook his head. ‘No, until Ra’meth recovers from his wounds sufficiently to answer for himself, this council will refrain from making any judgments in the matter. I for one find it hard to believe this boy did the things his mother would have us believe. I suspect there is much more at work here than we yet know.’
‘An excellent assumption, Magus Te’oreth,’ I said. ‘I’ve recently discovered that people rarely tell the whole truth.’
‘Is that what you’re here to do then, Kellen?’ Osia’phest asked hopefully. ‘Tell the whole truth?’
I smiled. ‘No, My Lords Magi, I’m not here for that.’
‘Why do we waste our time then?’ Ven’asp asked. ‘Put him in copper bindings and lock him up until we’re ready to deal with him. The boy hasn’t passed a single test; he has no business being in this hallowed place.’
‘That’s not quite true, Magus Ven’asp,’ I said. ‘In fact, I do believe I’ve passed all four of your tests.’
Te’oreth spat. ‘You make a mockery of these proceedings. I will not—’
‘Let the boy present his evidence,’ Osia’phest said. ‘As my student, he has that right.’
I looked up at my old spellmaster, grateful for his intervention but also curious as to his motives. Had Osia’phest been part of the Sha’Tep conspiracy, tired of watching arrogant and cruel children rise to become initiates and then mages year after year? I decided it wasn’t my problem any more and, besides, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer. Instead I turned my attention to the men and women staring down at me in preparation for judgment. ‘Four tests, My Lords Magi. Four corners to the initiate’s trial. I passed the first when I won a mage’s duel with magic.’
‘Liar!’ Ven’asp said. ‘Your own sister revealed your trick. You used Tennat’s—’
‘I never said it was my magic.’
There were more complaints after that, but again Osia’phest raised a hand. ‘We will get through this faster if we simply let Kellen make his case.’
‘Thank you, teacher,’ I said. ‘The second test was to find a source of power. I’m not sure if you all heard, but I secured a power animal that no other Jan’Tep mage has in all our history.’
‘A nekhek,’ Ven’asp said. He turned to the others. ‘We should put the boy in the stocks for that reason if no other. He made a familiar of our most ancient enemy.’
‘To be completely honest, Reichis is more of a business partner than a familiar. Either way, you have to admit, he brings power with him.’
I wiped my hands on my trousers to get rid of some of the sweat that came from both the heat of the room and the fact that I was still more than a little terrified of what might happen next. Mostly, though, I needed my hands to be dry. ‘Now, as for the third test, I combined two very different disciplines to create a new spell.’
Te’oreth peered down from his perch at the bands on my forearms. ‘You have sparked only the breath band. What is this “second” discipline you used?’
‘Chemistry,’ I replied, and slid my hands into the pouches inside my pockets, letting a pinch of each of the powders combine in the air before I formed the somatic shapes and uttered the words. I ended up burning the tips of my fingers and had to suck in a breath to keep from letting out what would have been an embarrassing squeal of pain, but fortunately no one was paying attention to me. They were focused on the supplicantia that I had just blown up into a thousand pieces. ‘Not bad, as initiates’ spells go, don’t you think?’
Te’oreth’s eyes turned to me, his hands ready to cast something that I suspected would be particularly nasty if I moved again. Part of me – no doubt the part that was already taking on too many of Reichis’s less polite qualities – wondered if I could outdraw the old mage. Probably best not to find out. I knew it had been stupid to show off, but it mattered to me that these people understand there might be a cost to messing with me in future.
‘The fourth test then,’ Osia’phest said. I think there might have been a hint of a smile on his face at everyone else’s discomfort.
Ven’asp, however, seemed delighted. ‘How about his own secret?’ he asked, his smirk mean and triumphant as he looked down at me. ‘The girl betrayed you, boy. She sold you out to pass her tests. To secure her mage’s name of Neph’aria, she revealed to us that you have the shadowblack. Do you still feel prideful now?’
‘Mostly I feel relieved,’ I said, speaking honestly for a change. I’d been afraid that Nephenia … no, Neph’aria … I’d worried she might not go through with it. She was a good person who’d been trapped by the same rotten circumstances as I would have been if I hadn’t met Ferius Parfax. She deserved a chance to make a life for herself.
‘And you kept this vile illness a secret?’ Ven’asp asked. ‘Even from Ke’heops himself?’
Actually they kept it from me. I was about to say as much when I saw the way everyone was looking at me now. This is how they do it. This is how they rewrite history. They knew my parents had concealed my having the shadowblack, but with Ra’meth out of the running to become clan prince, they would need to stay on my father’s good side. That meant overlooking his crime, which meant blaming it on me. ‘I suppose it hardly matters now, does it?’
‘Spoken like a true coward,’ Te’oreth said. ‘So then, what secret do you have for us? You can’t truly believe that your fabrications about the House of Ra taking advantage of this Sha’Tep conspiracy will buy you a mage’s name.’
And there was the second part of the story that had to be rewritten. Ra’meth couldn’t be branded a murderer and conspirator. His family still had power and influence. Why should any of the lords magi make an enemy when they could instead be owed a favour?
I looked up at their faces, these great mage warriors of our people, these wizened old men and women. I saw the hint of optimism in Osia’phest’s otherwise carefully neutral expression. Was there a chance that, with all that had happened, the council might actually grant me my name and give me a place among my people?
‘No,’ a voice said. It was my own, which surprised me. ‘No, Lords Magi, the secret I’ve uncovered isn’t that Ra’meth tried to use the Sha’Tep conspiracy in order to take control of the clan. It wasn’t even that our own people massacred the Mahdek tribes to take their magic and this very city we now live in.’ I walked over to the small table with the pen and ink next to finger-length rolls of parchment upon which the supplicant had to write the secret they would submit to the council. I wrote down a single sentence before rolling it up and handing it to one of the clerks, who ascended the steps of Te’oreth’s pillar and handed it to him.
The old mage gave it only a moment’s glance before he whispered a spell, setting the parchment alight and sending the ashes raining down at my feet.
‘What did it say?’ An’atria asked him.
He didn’t answer, so I did. ‘It said that there’s no amount of magic in the world that’s worth the price of a man’s conscience.’
It’s customary at the end of testimony for the supplicant, whether bound or not, to close their eyes as they await the court’s verdict. Success results in a second slip of parchment placed in the supplicant’s hands upon which is written his or her mage name. Failure is emptiness. I didn’t close my eyes, nor did I hold out my hands. I was done hiding and I was done begging. I turned and started for the door.
‘You abandon the trial?’ An’atria asked. �
��You would set aside your chance at passing your tests, at being granted a mage’s name?’
I paused for a moment, my hand on the door between the halls of magic and the wide world outside. ‘I already have a name.’
As I walked out through the front entrance of the court, I made sure they heard me when I said, ‘My name is Kellen Argos.’
Epilogue
I tromped the quarter-mile back to where my horse waited for me and checked on his leg. It didn’t seem to bother him any more, but since I didn’t know much about horses I walked him to the edge of town just to be sure. Not long after, I woke to a mouthful of horsehair. At some point I must’ve dozed off and slumped face first against the animal’s rump. After that the horse and I agreed it would be less embarrassing for both of us if I rode. So I mounted, awkwardly, and set out in the direction of the shack Ferius had spoken of.
I only got as far as the arch that led out of town before a figure stepped out onto the road in front of me.
‘You’re not leaving,’ Shalla said. She had tears in her eyes and glimmers of blue and yellow magical force drifted up from the bands around her forearms to swirl around her hands.
A glance at the movements of her fingers told me she was preparing a lightning spell. Figuring the horse had suffered enough already on my account, I dismounted. ‘I’m glad you’re okay, Shalla.’
She gave a terse nod. I was pretty sure that was all the acknowledgement I was ever going to get from her for having nearly died trying to save her life. ‘Mother and Father healed me. We’re a family.’ The last part sounded like an accusation.
‘You are,’ I said, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice. ‘You, Mother, Father – you’re a family. A proper Jan’Tep family.’ I was going to leave it there, but then I realised that what I’d said was true, but not complete. ‘And you’re my sister, Shalla. You’ll always be my sister.’
‘Then come back!’ she pleaded, her voice cracking and the flickers of light disappearing from her hands.
‘There’s no place for me back there.’ I reached up with the sleeve of my shirt and rubbed at my left eye. I was going to need to apply more of Mer’esan’s paste soon. ‘It’s over for me, Shalla.’
She ran up to me and grabbed hold of my arm, an oddly childish gesture for her. ‘But you can stay, don’t you see? Father has the support of most of the council already, and once people hear what Ra’meth tried to do—’
‘And what our uncle tried to do too.’
She shook her head, dismissing the notion. ‘He was Sha’Tep. Everyone understands that. Besides, people think Father sent you to put a stop to it – that our family dealt with the problem. It’s a sign of our house’s dignity.’
Dignity seemed like the wrong choice of word to me. ‘I can’t help but notice that Ke’heops isn’t here to thank me personally.’
She looked uncomfortable, and I realised she had begged him to come. ‘It’s all right,’ I said. ‘It’s better this way.’
‘It’s complicated,’ she said.
I couldn’t help but smile at that. I reached out and took a piece of her hair in my hand. It was one of those stupid things we used to do as kids – a kind of taunt that masked affection. We never were a hugging family, but I decided I didn’t care for once what kind of family we were and pulled her into an embrace. Surprisingly she didn’t strike me down with lightning or fire or even a nasty look.
‘Things don’t have to change,’ she insisted, hanging on to me as if the wind was about to send me drifting down the road. ‘Father said you wouldn’t even have to be Sha’Tep. You can stay with us while he and Mother find a way to keep your … condition from—’
‘Our laws state that anyone with the shadowblack can be killed without consequence. Why would Father ever allow me to live under his roof?’ I asked. The answer came to me almost immediately: the great and honourable Ke’heops had come to see that protecting a house like ours sometimes became an ugly business. I had shown that I could do those ugly things for him. I could be our family’s enforcer, the one he sent to deal with our enemies. After all, it’s not like my soul can be saved anyway.
As gently as I could, I pushed Shalla away. ‘I love you, little sister. I reckon that’s never going to change.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘You “reckon”? Don’t you dare start talking like that Ferius woman, Kellen. You’re not some Argosi wanderer. You’re a Jan’Tep of the House of Ke.’
I thought about the card that was even now sitting in my pocket, the one painted to look like me. The ‘Spellslinger’. A Discordance. A disturbance that could change the direction of the world. It sure didn’t sound like me.
But it didn’t sound too bad either.
I turned back to the horse, took a firm hold of the saddle and put my foot in the stirrup. ‘What I am, Shalla, is a sixteen-year-old with one spell, a squirrel cat for a business partner and a death sentence written in black shadow around my left eye.’ I took the horse’s reins and nudged him into motion. ‘I need to find out if I can be something more than that.’
Shalla cut me off, hands out in front of her, fingers already preparing a spell for which I had no counter. ‘Stop! I’ll strike you down, Kellen. I will.’
The glare of her magic was so bright I could see it reflecting off grains of sand on the road between us. ‘Follow your conscience, Shalla. It’s all any of us can do.’
I nudged the horse again. Reluctantly, the beast started moving. Even more reluctantly, Shalla let us pass. We had gone only a few yards when she called out after me. ‘You’ll be hunted, don’t you understand? Without the protection of the clan, every Jan’Tep mage on the continent will be duty-bound to kill you. The Daromans won’t take you in and neither will the Berabesq. You’ll be alone, Kellen! You’ll spend the entire rest of your life as an outcast.’
I pulled on the reins, just for a moment, and turned to give my sister my very best smile before continuing on my way out of town. ‘Reckon I prefer the term “outlaw”.’
Acknowledgements
It took seven perilous and peculiar spells to bring the world of Spellslinger to life. Thankfully, the master mages of my literary life were equal to the challenge.
A Conjuration of Inspiration
My friend and occasional writing partner Eric Torin, as he does with all of my books, posed the questions that most needed to be answered in order to bring Spellslinger to life.
An Incantation of Purpose
I never tried writing a novel until I met my wife Christina, who makes marriage the best and most alluring adventure an otherwise aimless rogue could ever hope for.
An Evocation of Exploration
Members past and present of my excellent (and exceedingly nasty) writing group saw many different versions of Spellslinger, always telling me with (again, exceedingly nasty) candour what worked and what needed rewriting. My ongoing thanks to Kim Tough, Wil Arndt, Brad Dehnert, Claire Ryan, Sarah Figueroa, and Jim Hull of Narrative First.
Some of my favourite people took the time to read earlier drafts of the novel and help me see both what was working and what was not. My thanks to Anna Webster, Mike Church, Sandra Glass, Sarah Bagshaw, Dougal Muir, Kat Zeller, and Sam Chandola.
A Binding of Clarity
My editor, the delightfully kind and utterly persistent Matilda Johnson, forced me to answer all the questions about Kellen and his world until I was almost convinced the magic would actually work.
A Spell of Sparkling
The eagle-eyed Talya Baker at Hot Key Books not only brought polish and crispness to the prose, she also found holes that I’d missed.
A Prestidigitation of Publication
This book would never have seen print without my incomparable agents, Heather Adams and Mike Bryan, who found the perfect home thanks to the indomitable Mark Smith who took a chance on me both with my first series and now with this one. Thanks also to Jane Harris, for helping me solve the esoteric dilemmas surrounding certain homicidal furry creatures.
Thanks to all of you who take chances on new authors and books. One of the great pleasures of this business is meeting and hearing from readers who aren’t simply fans but rather fellow travellers down the strange pathways of fantasy and adventure.
Look out for the next SPELLSLINGER book, SHADOWBLACK.
Read on for a preview.
The way of the Argosi is the way of water.
Water never seeks to block another’s path, nor does it permit impediments to its own. It moves freely, slipping past those who would capture it, taking nothing that belongs to others. To forget this is to stray from the path, for despite the rumours one sometimes hears, an Argosi never, ever steals.
1
The Charm
‘This isn’t stealing,’ I insisted, a little loudly considering the only person who could hear me was a two-foot-tall squirrel cat who was, at that moment, busily picking the combination lock that stood between us and the contents of the pawnshop’s glass display case.
Reichis, one furry ear up close to the lock as his dextrous paws worked the three small rotating brass discs, chittered angrily in reply. ‘Would you mind? This isn’t as easy as it looks.’ His tubby little hindquarters shivered in annoyance.
If you’ve never seen a squirrel cat before, picture a mean-faced cat with a big bushy tail and thin furry flaps of skin between his front and back legs that let him glide through the air in a fashion that somehow looks both ridiculous and terrifying. Oh, and give him the personality of a thief, a blackmailer and, if you believe Reichis’s stories, a murderer on more than one occasion.
‘Almost done,’ he insisted.
He’d been saying that for the past hour.
Thin lines of light were beginning to slip through the gaps between the wooden slats in the pawnshop’s front window and beneath the bottom edge of the door. Soon people would be coming down the main street, opening their shops or standing outside the saloon for that all-important first drink of the morning. They do that sort of thing here in the borderlands: work themselves into a drunken stupor before they’ve even had breakfast. It’s just one of the reasons why people here tend towards violence as the solution to any and all disputes. It’s also why my nerves were fraying. ‘We could have just broken the glass and left him some extra money to cover the damages,’ I said.
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