Spellslinger 6: Crownbreaker Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  The Spellslinger Series

  Dedication

  Map

  Prologue: The Card Trick

  City of Glories

  1. The Arrest

  2. The Deck

  3. The Lieutenant

  4. Arta Forteize

  5. The Murmurers

  6. A Talent for Trouble

  7. The Witness

  8. The Shine and the Hook

  9. The Question

  10. The Mission

  11. Duty

  12. The Messenger

  13. The Emissary

  City of Wonders

  14. Tantrums

  15. The Funeral

  16. The Eulogy

  17. An Overdue Bath

  18. The Letter

  19. The Sanctum

  20. Royal Commands

  21. The Summons

  22. The Athenaeum

  23. The Riddle

  24. The Banding

  25. The Price

  26. The Enigmatist

  27. The Malediction

  City of Soldiers

  28. The Outskirts

  29. The Road

  30. The Wound

  31. The Oath

  32. The Border

  33. The Penitents

  34. The Quadan

  35. The Capital

  36. The Entrance

  37. The Wrong Direction

  38. Criminal Elements

  39. The Voice of God

  40. The Path of Winding Roads

  41. The Travellers’ Saloon

  42. The Card Game

  43. The Deck

  44. The Protector

  City of Miracles

  45. The Luminary

  46. The Corpse

  47. The Maze

  48. The Torment

  49. The Ritual

  50. The Game

  51. The Dupe

  52. The Rules of War

  53. The Peace

  54. The Patsy

  55. The Stand-Off

  56. City of Fire

  57. City of Sorrow

  City of Peace

  58. The Intruder

  59. Reunion

  60. Dreams of Sand

  61. Two Sides

  62. The Game of Shujan

  63. The Countdown

  64. The Duel

  65. The Final Spell

  City of Shadows

  66. The Grey Passage

  67. The Future

  68. The Pack

  69. The Trickster

  Acknowledgements: A Thousand and One Magic Tricks

  Postscript

  Copyright

  THE SPELLSLINGER SERIES

  SPELLSLINGER

  SHADOWBLACK

  CHARMCASTER

  SOULBINDER

  QUEENSLAYER

  CROWNBREAKER

  THE GREATCOATS SERIES

  TRAITOR’S BLADE

  KNIGHT’S SHADOW

  SAINT’S BLOOD

  TYRANT’S THRONE

  To the real Ferius Parfax.

  Your worst teysan still thinks of your lessons every day.

  Prologue

  The Card Trick

  The old man dealt me an ace. Again. I picked it up only to let it fall face up next to the other ace and two jacks in front of me. One edge of the card landed on top a crumb of mouldy, dried-up bread stuck to the table. It lay there, tilted towards me as if pointing out the obvious.

  ‘Two jacks, each with an ace,’ I said. ‘That’s a pair of spear bearers.’

  The old man leaned forward, long brown greasy hair and beard framing a crooked smile. He waved his arms in the air to show he’d just been swept up in unforeseeable circumstances.

  ‘Lost again, haven’t I?’

  He glanced around the room as if he were performing for an audience. The place was empty except for one drunk snoring in the corner and a bartender doing a piss-poor job of mopping the floor.

  The old man turned back to me and let one hand fall into his lap while the other motioned for the bartender to pour more ale into mugs that weren’t any cleaner than the floorboards.

  ‘You don’t seem to be too good with cards,’ I observed.

  My irritatingly cheerful companion smiled back at me. He had perfect teeth. Filthy hair, shabby robes, thin as a rake. His sandals reminded me of those strip shows where the dancers spin bits of cloth around their bodies as they flounce all over the stage; you couldn’t call them naked, but they’d catch a chill if they went outside. But those teeth? Straight. Clean. Perfect. One look at his hands revealed fingers free from calluses and nails that were neatly trimmed.

  ‘Can’t help but wonder what makes a lord magus wander into a saloon and start bleeding money at cards,’ I said, tapping the pile of coins on my side of the table. I’d started the night with just one.

  The old man shrugged. ‘Perhaps I’m above such petty concerns as money.’

  ‘Maybe,’ I said, taking a swig of my beer, instantly regretting it. ‘Then again, maybe you don’t mind watching me slide coins from your side of the table to mine all night because you don’t plan on seeing me walk out with them.’

  The mage gathered up the cards and started shuffling again. ‘They told me you were clever.’

  ‘Be sure to thank them for the compliment.’

  He dealt another hand of Country Holdup. Four cards each. Only face cards counted.

  I picked up my hand, saw that all four cards were twos. The old man had just dealt me an eight-legged horse. Guess he wasn’t planning on letting me win this time.

  ‘So that’s how it’s going to be?’ I asked.

  ‘That’s how it’s going to be.’ Just like that, the smile was gone. So was the pretence. ‘You’re going to die tonight, Kellen of the House of Ke.’

  ‘Reckon you’ve got me confused with someone else, friend.’

  I dropped the two of chariots on the discard pile in the centre of the table. The old man dealt me a new card, which turned out to be another two of chariots. Nice trick.

  ‘You reckon, do you?’ He chuckled. ‘You think that preposterous frontier drawl hides who you are?’

  Now that was just mean. I’d practised my drawl all morning to get it just right.

  ‘No running away this time, Kellen,’ the mage went on. ‘You are who you are and I am who I am. Sure, you’ve got yourself a little magic. A few tricks. But you’re no lord magus.’

  ‘Never claimed to be.’

  The old man snorted. ‘No, of course not. What is it these Daroman barbarians call you? “The queen’s spellslinger”?’

  ‘I believe Her Majesty prefers the title “royal tutor of cards”, actually.’

  I dropped the deuce of trebuchets on the pile.

  ‘“Her Majesty”,’ the old man repeated in a mocking whine. He spat on the table, which made it neither dirtier nor cleaner. ‘That little bitch has pissed off the wrong people, Kellen. But she’s too well protected – politics and diplomacy, you understand. So I’ve been sent to teach her a lesson by making an example of you.’ He snorted then, apparently taken unawares by his own cleverness. ‘Do you suppose that makes me her “royal tutor of manners” now?’

  ‘Can’t see how I’m going to serve as much of an example, friend, seeing as how, like I told you, I’m not this Kellen fellow you say you’re looking for.’

  He dealt me another card, this one bearing the number two and depicting a pair of skulls. This was particularly impressive when you consider that there is no suit of skulls in a Daroman deck.

  ‘Don’t suppose you’d consider teaching me that trick?’ I asked.

  ‘What would be the point?�
�� His fingers twitched and the card went up in flames. ‘Would’ve thought someone with your reputation for outlawry would stay better hidden, but my silk spells led me right to this place. Honestly, boy, I’m so disappointed I’m tempted to kill you now and be done with it.’

  I put up my hands and offered him my most winning smile. ‘Hey now, no need to be hasty. I just came in here for a drink and to play some cards. Now why don’t you describe this Kellen fellow to me? Maybe I’ve seen him around.’

  The mage snickered. ‘Your height, your build.’ He tossed a jack of trebuchets face up on the table. ‘Your smarmy mouth, your dung-coloured hair.’ He flipped the card over once and now it was the jack of blades.

  ‘That description matches any number of folks around these parts,’ I said. ‘Besides, I don’t think you’re in any position to be disparaging other people’s hair, friend.’

  ‘And of course –’ the mage flipped the jack once more in the air. This time when it landed it was the same card, but now with an elaborate black design circling the jack’s eye – ‘the man I’m looking for has the same disgusting shadowblack around his left eye that you bear, Kellen of the House of Ke.’

  I leaned back in my chair and gave him a round of applause. ‘See? Now that’s some fine magic. You sure I can’t persuade you to teach me these wonderful card tricks of yours?’

  ‘You’re all out of tricks now, Kellen.’ He wagged a finger at me. ‘Oh, you’ve eluded a few minor adepts, built yourself a modest reputation with what little magic you have. No doubt you’ve impressed a few of these backwater hicks. Maybe even captivated the imagination of a twelve-year-old girl who calls herself a queen. But you’ve got nothing to match up against a true lord magus, Kellen. So now you die.’

  I offered up a sigh of frustration. ‘Like I keep telling you, friend, you’ve mistaken me for someone else.’

  ‘You’re going to tell me there’s more than one man in these territories with black markings around his left eye?’

  I shrugged. ‘Could just be make-up, you know. Like a new fashion. An … affectation?’

  ‘An affectation? As if anyone in their right mind would willingly go around with the shadowblack staining their soul?’ He clapped his hands together. ‘I take it back, boy. You’re almost too much fun to murder. Unfortunately you’ve killed one too many Jan’Tep mages …’

  He gathered up the cards, drew a small pile of them and fanned them out on the table. Eleven cards. All kings. ‘If the rumours are to be believed.’

  ‘Maybe even more?’ I asked, flipping an additional card from the deck. It would have been nice if it had magically turned out to be another king, but it was the six of arrows.

  ‘Anything’s possible, I suppose.’

  ‘This Kellen fellow sounds awfully dangerous. Aren’t you the least bit anxious you might get hurt chasing him all over the Daroman territories?’

  ‘No.’

  I leaned my elbows on the table and peered into his eyes. ‘You’re that sure of yourself? You’re really that powerful?’

  ‘I am. But unlike the fools you’ve met before, I’m also cautious. That’s why I made certain preparations in advance of our encounter, just to be sure.’

  I tapped my pile of coins. ‘You mean like losing a lot of money at cards?’

  He chuckled at that. ‘In a manner of speaking. The cards were just to keep you in your chair, which, as you’re about to discover, I enchanted yesterday with magic older and fouler than you can imagine.’

  I looked down at my chair. ‘This rickety old thing? I hate to tell you, friend, but if it’s supposed to be killing me right now, it’s not working very well.’

  ‘Kill you? Don’t be silly. I want to keep that pleasure for myself. No, the chair has a sympathetic binding spell on it, Kellen. When a mage sits down upon it, the enchantment gradually seizes hold of the magic inside him. By now, even that tiny drip of power in the breath band on your forearm is enough to hold you in a grip stronger than oak or iron.’ He gestured for me to get up. ‘Go ahead. Try to move. The more you struggle, the stronger the spell will bind you to the chair, until eventually you’ll suffocate from the pressure.’

  I considered that for a moment. ‘That really does sound ingenious. Can’t imagine a way out of such a fiendish trap. Almost makes me wonder why nobody ever thought to try it on this Kellen person before.’

  The old man giggled. ‘Oh, not many can cast this spell, I assure you.’

  ‘I’m curious, then, why the dozen or so people who sat in this chair before me today didn’t seem troubled by it at all.’

  Irritation crossed the old man’s features. ‘As I’ve told you, the binding only works on Jan’Tep mages. I would’ve thought you’d appreciate the compliment, Kellen. At least now people will have to recognise that you weren’t entirely devoid of magical ability.’

  ‘Right, right,’ I said. ‘Diabolical and considerate. And yet …’ I drummed my fingers on the table.

  ‘And yet what?’

  I tilted by head back to stare idly up at the ceiling. ‘Well, it seems risky to me, putting so much effort into something as banal as a chair, relying on the victim to sit down on the right one.’

  ‘No risk at all. You’ve been seen here every night for the past week, sitting in that same chair each time. So I made sure to be in my chair before you got here, and the bartender ensured no one else sat there until you arrived. Besides, I picked a night when most of these barbarians are out celebrating their little queen’s birthday festival.’

  ‘Sure, that makes sense. Still though …’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, this Kellen is supposed to be some kind of devilishly clever outlaw, isn’t he? A genius at the art of evading his enemies?’

  ‘Genius? No. Cunning, perhaps. He keeps a few tricks up his sleeve, certainly.’

  I nodded in agreement. ‘Right. Cunning. Tricky. So I guess what I’m asking is, wouldn’t it be just like a cunning, tricky fellow to figure out what you were up to and then come in the night before to swap the chairs? I mean, he does seem to have an uncanny knack for survival. What if he’d just happened to sneak in here after closing time last night, put your chair here, and his chair, well, right where you’re sitting now. Wouldn’t that technically mean you were in the binding spell?’

  The mage’s eyes narrowed. He tried lifting his arm, only for his mouth to gape open when it didn’t move. He tore at the sleeve of his robe as if it was glued to the arm of the chair. He began shifting furiously, trying to get out of his seat, but to no avail. His gyrations grew more and more frenetic until finally he stared across the table at me, lips moving silently, helplessly, as though his chest were being crushed by an ever-increasing lead weight. His eyes fluttered closed.

  The room fell silent.

  Then the old man started laughing.

  He rose effortlessly from the chair and patted his belly. ‘My, oh my. The look on your face! I swear, boy, that was priceless! Like watching a hangman at the gallows discovering the noose around his own neck!’

  ‘Well now,’ I said drily, ‘that was quite a performance.’

  The old man bowed at the waist. ‘Thank you, thank you.’ He sat back down and started giggling again. ‘I did warn you, Kellen, that I’m just a bit smarter than those other mages you’ve duelled in the past.’

  ‘Just a bit,’ I acknowledged.

  ‘I knew there was a chance you might learn of my plans, so I took precautions. I made sure the chairs were checked first thing in the morning. So after you snuck in last night and switched them …’

  ‘Your accomplice switched them back before I arrived.’ I looked over at the bartender who had a grimy smile on his face. ‘Nice way to treat a regular customer,’ I said.

  The mage slapped his hands down on the table between us. ‘Now then, I’m afraid that while this has certainly been entertaining, it’s past time I collected the other half of my bounty, which means we have to conclude our business together.’

 
The bartender came over and placed a dusty bottle of wine and a corkscrew on the table.

  ‘Don’t you think you should at least offer me a glass of whatever you’re celebrating with before you kill me?’

  ‘This?’ he said, holding up the bottle. ‘Oh no. This I’m saving for later.’ He put the bottle back down on the table, pulled a white cloth from the pocket of his robe and set about cleaning the corkscrew. ‘This,’ he said, holding it up for me, ‘is what I’m going to twist into that black eye of yours. Then I’m going to rip the life right out of you.’

  I swallowed. ‘Sounds a bit barbaric for a distinguished gentleman like yourself, if you don’t mind my saying.’

  ‘A requirement of my Daroman employers,’ he explained. ‘Desecrating the corpses of their enemies is something of a tradition with them. Sends a more meaningful message to their little queen.’

  I nodded sympathetically. ‘Freelance work can be so messy.’

  ‘I don’t mind.’ He turned the now gleaming corkscrew in the air. ‘A lord magus rarely gets his hands dirty, but twisting this into your eye? Inflicting such horrific pain while you sit there, screaming in agony yet unable to move a muscle?’ He shivered. ‘Let’s just say it’s an idea that intrigues me. I suspect you’ll suffocate from struggling against the binding spell before you die of your wounds.’

  I bit my lip. ‘Don’t suppose I can talk you out of this? Maybe make a deal?’

  The mage shook his head. He smiled one last time, showing me those perfect teeth of his before standing up, the corkscrew gripped tightly in his right hand.

  ‘Well, dang it,’ I said. ‘If this is the day I meet my ancestors, reckon I’ll do it standing on my own two feet.’

  ‘I told you, there’s—’

  Whatever the old man was going to say next died when he saw me rise from the chair.

  ‘That’s not …’

  I picked up the bottle of wine and noted the vintage scrawled in grease pen. Probably the most expensive bottle in the place. Must’ve been a good fee.

  ‘This isn’t right,’ the mage said, looking very much like a confused old man discovering he’s become lost very far from home.

  ‘Maybe the spell didn’t work?’ I suggested.

  ‘Impossible. My spells never fail me. Never.’

  ‘Well now, that is a conundrum.’ I held up a finger. ‘Perhaps this Kellen fellow is vastly more powerful than you’ve been led to believe.’