by Greg Keyes
“Because you’re the princess and I’m a servant?” Austra murmured.
“Yes,” Anne replied.
They set out the next morning—Anne, Austra, Winna, Aspar, Neil, Cazio, and twenty horsemen from Dunmrogh. The clouds were back, and a midday snow began to fall, the first snow of winter. It was Yule; from now on, the days would only get longer.
EPILOGUE
RESACARATUM
LEOFF GLANCED UP AS the praifec entered the little room that had been his home for the past two days. There wasn’t much to it, the room—a table, a few candles, and no window at all. Of course, there wouldn’t be, this deep underground.
“You’re a very clever man,” the praifec said after a moment. “And far more political than I would have imagined.”
“I told you it would be magnificent,” Leoff said, trying to sound brave.
“Oh, yes, and so it was,” Hespero agreed. “Even I was moved by it—moved as if by shinecraft, in fact.”
“It was music, not shinecraft,” Leoff insisted. “All music is magical. You can’t artificially separate—”
“Oh, I most certainly can,” the praifec replied. “And I’m afraid the council of praifecs agrees with me. Leovigild Ackenzal, you are here convicted of shinecraft and high treason.”
He stepped closer and rested a hand on Leoff’s shoulder. The touch made the composer’s skin crawl.
“No, my friend,” the praifec said in his most avuncular tones, “enjoy your small triumph. It will have to last you the rest of your life.”
Leoff held his chin high. “I’m not afraid to die,” he said.
The praifec shrugged. “I’m not going to kill you,” he said. “But in a moment, I will leave this room, and so will you, and you will be taken to a place.” He put his hands behind his back. “Fralet Ackenzal, do you know the meaning of Resacaratum?”
“It means a reconsecration—to make holy again.”
“Indeed. The world has become an unholy place, Fralet Ackenzal, I think you will agree. War threatens everywhere; terrible monsters wander about—why you’ve met one yourself, yes?”
“Yes,” Leoff said.
“Yes. The world is in need of purification, and when that need arises, the Church is at hand. It’s beginning now, in every country, every village, every house. The Resacaratum has begun. And you have the honor of being one of its first—examples.”
“What do you mean?” Leoff asked, the hair on the back of his neck pricking up.
“You will be lustrated, Fralet—made pure. I fear the process may be painful, but redemption rarely comes without cost.”
He gave Leoff’s shoulder a friendly squeeze and left. And as he promised, someone came and took Leoff to a place.
He tried to be brave, but Leoff was not made for pain, and after a time he screamed, and cried, and begged for an end to it.
But it did not end.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A special thanks to Terry Brooks for his support and encouragement. Thanks also to Elizabeth Haydon, Melanie Rawn, Katherine Kurtz, Robin Hobb, John Maddox Roberts, and Charles de Lint for their kind words about The Briar King.
Thanks to my readers: T. Karen Anderson, Nancy Baker, Kris Boldis, Marshal Hibnes, Chris Hodgkins, Lanelle Keyes, Eugenia Mansfield, Charlie Sheffer, and Nancy Vega.
Thanks to Jack Simmons, Ph.D., for his help with matters nautical. Any mistakes in such matters don’t originate with him.
As always, thanks to my editor, Steve Saffel; editor in chief, Betsy Mitchell; and managing editor, Nancy Delia. Thanks to Eliani Torres for wading through my misspellings and other mistakes. Thanks also to editorial assistant Keith Clayton for tons of hard work.
Thanks to Kirk Caldwell for more beautiful maps, Stephen Youll for the cover art, and Dave Stevenson for putting it all together.
Thanks to Colleen Lindsay and Christine Cabello for putting me out there, in three dimensions and in cyberspace. Sorry I ruined a perfectly good assistant, Colleen, even if only for a day or two.
Thanks to Mark Maguire for managing production.
Across the pond, many thanks to Stefanie Bierworth and Peter Lavery, not only for publishing this book in Britain, but for their hospitality—especially Peter, who put up with me as a houseguest.
Thanks to Dave Gross for his perpetual support and for being best man at my most recent wedding.
Belated thanks to Jacques Chambon, who edited my first books published in French. The world is a lesser place without you, Jacques.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
GREG KEYES was born in Meridian, Mississippi, to a large, diverse, storytelling family. He received degrees in anthropology from Mississippi State and the University of Georgia before becoming a full-time writer. He is the author of The Briar King and the Age of Unreason tetralogy, as well as The Waterborn, The Blackgod, and the Star Wars® New Jedi Order novels Edge of Victory I: Conquest, Edge of Victory II: Rebirth, and The Final Prophecy. He lives in Savannah, Georgia.
By Greg Keyes
The Chosen of the Changeling
THE WATERBORN
THE BLACKGOD
The Age of Unreason
NEWTON’S CANNON
A CALCULUS OF ANGELS
EMPIRE OF UNREASON
THE SHADOWS OF GOD
The Psi Corps Trilogy
BABYLON 5: DARK GENESIS
BABYLON 5: DEADLY RELATIONS
BABYLON 5: FINAL RECKONING
Star Wars®: The New Jedi Order
EDGE OF VICTORY: CONQUEST
EDGE OF VICTORY: REBIRTH
THE FINAL PROPHECY
The Kingdoms of Thorn and Bone
THE BRIAR KING
THE CHARNEL PRINCE
The Charnel Prince is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
A Del Rey® Book
Published by The Random House Publishing Group
Copyright © 2004 by J. Gregory Keyes
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Del Rey Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and simultaneously in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.
Del Rey is a registered trademark and the Del Rey colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
www.delreybooks.com
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
Keyes, J. Gregory, 1963–
The Charnel Prince / Greg Keyes.
p. cm.—(The kingdoms of Thorn and Bone)
“A Del Rey book”—T.p. verso.
I. Title.
PS3561.E79C48 2004
813′.54—dc22 2004045405
eISBN: 978-0-345-47841-2
v3.0
