Knight of Stars

by Tom Lloyd

Genres: Fantasy; Epic Fantasy; Fantasy action & adventure

Synopsis

Lynx and the rest of the Cards are heading south. There's money in their pockets, beer in their hands and a simple job ahead - sun, sea and not getting shot at much. Throw in the prospect of a bar fight and it's almost a holiday. But the volatile Mage Islands are a powder keg, one just waiting for a spark. A bloody-handed exile perhaps, or the agent of a foreign power preparing for war. Maybe even a bunch of trigger-happy drunks who've upset the balance of magic across the Riven Kingdom. Or all three together, that'd definitely work....

Release date: June 27, 2019

Publisher: Audible Studios

Print pages: 448

Sample

Once, Lynx was a soldier – an idealistic young man in the warrior state of So Han. As a commando lieutenant he was at the spearhead of So Han’s attempt to conquer all the land west of the inland sea Parthain, but refused to engage in the atrocities being committed. After killing his commanding officer in a duel he was sent to the brutal To Lort prison and forced to labour in the mines there.

A decade after the end of the war, he finds himself joining a mercenary crew called Anatin’s Mercenary Deck – the Cards – on a rescue mission to the city of Grasiel. On the way, Lynx frees a young night mage called Sitain who elects to hide in their ranks. The job turns out to be protecting Toil, an agent of the city-state of Su Dregir, who has just assassinated the ruler of Grasiel before he can make an alliance with one of the most powerful Religious Militant Orders, the Knights-Charnel of the Long Dusk.

Matters are complicated by the rescue of Sitain and one of the Cards selling her out, so they find themselves pursued out of the city by elite Charneler troops. In an attempt to escape, Toil leads some of the party into the ancient Duegar ruin of Shadows Deep. Crossing the city, they are beaten to the only remaining bridges across a huge underground rift by the Charnelers.

In desperation, Toil wakes a beast of legend that inhabits the lower levels of the rift, a golantha, a monster that feeds on magic. The Charnelers are massacred, but the Cards manage to lure the golantha on to the bridge and use their mage-guns to drive it over the edge.

They eventually are reunited with their comrades and complete the journey to Su Dregir, where Toil reports back. While waiting for the next job, Lynx, who has fallen for Toil, gets caught up in an underworld conflict as one of Toil’s employees makes a power play.

Not long after, Toil receives word that an academic in the city of Jarrazir, on the northern edge of Parthain, a great inland sea, is close to solving the riddle of the Labyrinth that lies beneath Jarrazir. The Labyrinth is a Duegar construction that has never been opened in recorded human history, but is rumoured to contain a great treasure. As an experienced relic hunter, Toil goes to offer her services, taking the Cards as back-up, but the Labyrinth is opened before she arrives and ghostly guardian spirits kill many citizens as multiple entrances appear across Jarrazir.

Having long prepared for such a day, the Charnelers send their own relic hunter, Sotorian Bade, ahead of an army and he uses the Labyrinth to cripple the city’s defences. The Charnelers fight their way into the city as Toil takes a team after Bade, a man who abandoned her in a city-ruin years ago. They each negotiate the puzzle-box of the Labyrinth and end up in a shoot-out at the lowest level. Bade escapes with a huge cache of God Fragments, the source of magic used to power mage-guns, but Toil and her team discover a hidden chamber. Inside is a stone tree surrounded by a strange moat and when a mage called Lastani touches it, something happens to them all. Every member of the party wakes to find themselves with white tattoos on their skin and the three mages in the group are immeasurably more powerful.

They escape the Labyrinth and pursue Bade to his paymaster’s command post. There they find themselves in a stand-off, but their mages prove the tipping point. Toil triggers an explosion, gambling that their mages can protect them while the others are killed. They hide from the subsequent inferno that rages, emerging later to discover the Charnelers have retreated in disarray.

In the days that follow, the nearly indestructible God Fragments are dug out of the smoking ruin by Jarraziran troops and a grateful Monarch agrees to discuss an alliance with Toil’s employer. Several new members are co-opted into the Cards after getting marked with the magical tattoos and, as the company celebrate their survival with a days-long bender, a message reaches them that a new mission awaits in the southern Mage Islands.

‘We’re here to drink beer an’ fuck people up, but we ain’t halfway through the beer yet. You want to join us and hear the many tales o’ our exploits, darlin’, you sit that fine arse right here beside me.’

There was silence as the locals went as still as rabbits. Given the Cards were in a disreputable corner of Caldaire, heart of the former pirate haven known as the Mage Islands, this wasn’t the best of signs.

‘Darlin’, is it?’ said the woman he’d addressed.

Deern cackled. ‘Now there’s a tone o’ voice all treacly and thick with menace. Hoy, Llaith, how long’s it been since we had ourselves a good old-fashioned bar-room brawl?’

Llaith sighed. ‘Oh, who can remember? All fades in the dimness of days long departed.’

There was a growl from one corner of the room. ‘It’s been four fucking days. I’ve still got the bruises.’

‘Four days, that’s it!’ Deern brightened. ‘Good news then, darlin’. We’re probably still in practice.’

The woman pulled over a chair and sat in one neat, graceful movement. She and Deern were of the same height, but there the similarity ended. With light brown skin and a muscular frame she was clearly still in her prime, despite the grey threads in her hair and a weathered complexion. Deern by contrast was pale, scrawny and difficult to imagine as ever having had a prime. Between the sleeves of the woman’s shirt and the traditional shawl around her neck any tattoos were hidden, but she was clearly a crew leader of some renown.

‘From what I hear,’ she said in accented Parthish, ‘only one of you has much talent for brawling.’

‘Oh I’ve got all sorts of talents,’ Deern replied. ‘Buy me a beer and we’ll see if we can’t lay some of ’em out for you.’

‘I’ll cut off anything you lay out. You’re not the one I’m here to see.’

‘You’re here for one of us?’ Deern turned to address the rest of the company. ‘Hey, who ordered the mean, pretty lady? Was it you, Lynx? That’s your type, right?’

Lynx made an obscene gesture in reply.

‘I’m the boss here,’ Anatin drawled, a crooked grin on his face. The mercenary commander was slumped against Reft, cheeks flushed from the heat and the booze. ‘Can I help you, darlin’? See something you like?’

‘That badge on your jacket,’ she said, looking round at the others. ‘The Prince of Sun? You look short of a full deck.’

Anatin snorted. ‘You ain’t the first to suggest that.’

He made to stand up and after one false start succeeded. ‘All the same – that’s me. The one and only Prince of Sun,’ Anatin said with a wobbly bow that ended up with him falling back into his chair. ‘Commander of Anatin’s Mercenary Deck. Two and forty men all fine, upright, honest and true – ’cept for those who’re women of course. Mebbe only half are actually honest and true, come to think of it. Mebbe a tenth could be described as fine, so long as the light’s poor. But there’s two and forty of them, of that bit I’m almost certain.’

‘Any upright?’

‘Not really. Forty are definitely drunk and the other two are indifferently sober. But still, they’re at your service, Mistress Whatever-yer-name-is. Come to hire the handsomest mercs in all the Mage Isles?’

‘Merely come to see what you’re made of.’

Anatin pointed at the slim dagger she wore. ‘You’re gonna need a bigger knife in Lynx’s case. The boy’s kinda padded.’

‘You Parthish mercenaries are all the same – drinking everything you can get your hands on and laughing in the face of danger.’

‘Hey, we’ve been known ta do a whole lot more than that,’ Anatin protested. ‘Sitain back there will puke on it quick as you like. I won’t tell you what Deern does to danger if he finds it with its britches down. It’d likely haunt ya next time you’re getting naked with some upstanding citizen.’

She ignored the grin on his face, somehow immune to his charms. ‘That was good work you did over in Nquet Dam, quick and clean.’

‘Compliments are always appreciated, but why do you care? The sash around your waist says you’re from Vi No Le district. How’s it your business what goes on in other parts of the Mage Isles?’

She gave him a small smile. ‘How many people wearing crew colours do you reckon are welcome in other districts?’

‘Just the one,’ Anatin said after a pause. ‘So you’re the queen of all that’s nasty in this city?’

‘The undisputed champion at least. That means I get to stick my nose in everyone’s business – make sure no little dispute blows up into something more disruptive.’

‘Ah right, you’re the law in this lawless pirate den?’

‘Only if it threatens trade – we’re a free port and don’t stand for anything getting in the way of business.’

‘No problems there then,’ Anatin declared. ‘We’ve finished our contract, it’s cake and medals time for us. Any nastiness to follow isn’t our problem. We’re open to offers though.’

‘There will be no offers,’ she said gravely. ‘We have our own way of settling disputes round here and it doesn’t involve rabbles of hired guns.’

‘My Cards are a crack team, specialists the lot of ’em!’ Anatin declared in mock outrage. ‘Some just also specialise in eating all the weird foreign muck they can get their hands on. But make no mistake, they’re an elite fighting unit always ready to take the gold o’ some new employer.’

‘This I believe.’

‘Hey, if it’s really necessary we’ll do the job too.’

‘Take no further job,’ she said firmly. ‘You will be watched until you leave the city. Make that soon or I make an example of you.’

The woman didn’t wait for a reply, just swept out of the room and let the door bang shut behind her. The quiet that followed was broken by a voice from the back of the room.

‘Ah blackest hells.’

They all turned towards Teshen, tucked into one gloomy corner of the bar.

‘Problem?’

He gave a nod. ‘Yeah.’

‘You know the mean, pretty lady?’

‘Once upon a time.’

Deern gave a bark of laughter. ‘Did you fuck the mean, pretty lady?’

‘Aye.’

‘Break her heart?’ Anatin asked.

‘Something like that.’

‘Sure she recognised you?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Shitting hells, Teshen, are you certain? I didn’t see her skip a beat.’

‘She saw me. That last bit was as much for me as you.’

Anatin reached for his drink. ‘See, Toil?’ he muttered. ‘Were you watching? That’s how you spot someone from yer past and don’t set fire to the whole fucking city.’

‘Just ’cos it’s not in flames yet,’ Toil pointed out, ‘doesn’t mean it won’t be.’

‘Aye, shit, you’re right.’ Anatin slumped back. A grubby deck of cards spilled on to the floor, ignored by all. ‘Gods-in-shards! One easy job, that’s all I asked for.’ He waved a hand in the direction of the door. ‘Go on then, man, get after her.’

‘Eh?’

‘Teshen, my friend, my Knight of Stars! In all the years I’ve known you – all those times we got fuckered an’ maudlin together – I ain’t never heard about a lover every bit as scary an’ cold-nerved as you are. That tells a story all of its own. Get after her.’

‘And do what?’

‘Romance her or cut her throat. I don’t much care which, but we don’t need this coming back to haunt us, okay?’

‘Okay.’

Teshen stepped forward and opened the door, looking as hesitant and conflicted as Lynx had ever seen him. ‘This ain’t going to end well.’

‘When does it ever?’ Anatin growled, draining his cup. ‘One time, you bastards! One easy job. How hard was that? What’s wrong with you all?’

‘At least it’s not my fault this time,’ Lynx chimed in.

‘I still blame you. We all do.’

‘Yeah, I know.’

Everything was on fire, but given they were the ones to start it this shouldn’t have been a great surprise. What to do next, however, seemed to have the Cards stumped. For a while they stared in dumb confusion as the flames rose higher. The sudden force of heat drove them back, but still no one spoke, as though whoever mentioned it first would get the blame.

A splutter of outrage erupted from the rear of the barge. Men were shoved out of the way, women dodged, and the air was thick with obscenities. The words themselves were so garbled it was only Toil’s tone that conveyed her message and her anger.

‘Which one of you witless apes set the shitting boat on fire?’ she yelled finally. Behind her the bargemen were howling and scrambling for buckets. The crowd of mercenaries barely moved. ‘Who did it?’

Again there was a moment of silence. Then they all pointed at Haphori.

‘It was him!’

‘Haphori did it!’

‘We tried to stop him!’

‘Man’s a bloody menace!’

The easterner growled and swung a punch that caught only air as the others abandoned him to his fate.

‘Gutless bastards,’ he snapped, dropping the mage-gun that hung loose in his hand. ‘Weren’t my fault, it’s my bad arm. The flathorns flushed some ducks an’ I got the wrong cartridge.’

‘In the name of all the broken gods, what’s wrong with you?’ Toil roared before turning to the rising flames. ‘Lastani! Lastani, where are you?’

‘Here,’ the young woman called, slipping through the crowd on deck. ‘I’m on it.’

‘Thank you.’

Toil watched stonily as the white-haired woman approached the front of the canal barge – currently wreathed in flames along with the canal wall behind it. She held her arms out and a haze of ice magic filled the air, smothering the flames.

‘Do I have to add this to the list of things you bastards should already know not to do?’ Toil said once Lastani was finished.

‘Might help, yeah,’ muttered someone from the safety of the back of the crowd.

‘Look at my fucking face!’ she snarled. ‘Do I look like I’m in the mood?’

They looked at her face. It was scarlet – not quite as red as her hair, but one fitting her Princess of Blood badge.

It hadn’t taken Lastani long to put the fire out, but enough for the willow-pattern tattoos on several Cards, Toil included, to pulse with white light. The nearest two bargemen who’d been approaching with buckets of water stopped dead, staring open-mouthed at the diminutive young mage. Behind Lastani, black soot marked every surface, but not even the ropes appeared to have anything more than superficial damage.

‘Do you people not understand?’ Lastani said. ‘Is everything a game with you?’

‘How’s about you rein in the whole “you people” talk, little miss blonde?’ Haphori demanded.

‘What? I … no, wait—’

‘Relax,’ Toil broke in. ‘He’s either fucking with you or he’s trying to distract me from being as pissed off as I have every right to be. Either way, it’s not going to work when “you people” mostly consists of white folk.’

Still the young mage’s cheeks pinked, her anger spent. Toil let out a breath and took a step forward. Haphori flinched, but Toil just raised her hands placatingly.

‘Now,’ she continued in a quieter voice, ‘do you not see the problem here?’

‘Yeah, I get it. No setting the boat on fire.’

‘For once, that’s not actually my biggest concern. I mean, it’s not good, not by a long shot. Even a member of the Cards should know that if there’d been a cartridge case anywhere nearby, you could have blown the end off the boat. But. Still. There’s a second problem.’

‘Magic?’

Toil nodded. ‘Magic. Even if I pay off the barge-master and his crew, there’s no guarantee they don’t tell stories about us. Stories we don’t want being spread to certain ears. Given some people have “opinions” when it comes to murdering witnesses, unless I fancy putting up with Lynx’s disappointed face, that option’s been taken away from me too.’

The middle-aged veteran soldier contrived to shuffle his feet. ‘Right. Yeah. Sorry.’

‘Good! See, that wasn’t too hard now, was it?’

Haphori shook his head. Before he’d finished, Toil had kneed him in the balls with all the force she could muster. He toppled but Toil had him by the scruff of the neck before he hit the ground and dragged him towards the gunwale. Slamming him against the side, she punched him in the face.

‘Don’t—’ she snarled, punching him again. ‘Set—’ more punches. ‘The damn— Boat— On fire!’

Blood spurted from his nose over the wooden deck. Safir stepped forward to grab Toil’s arm, but she’d already released Haphori. The injured man slumped back with a groggy moan – nose broken, lip torn. Safir and Toil exchanged a look then both stepped back.

‘Easy there,’ Safir said. ‘No one here asked for these tattoos and all the shit that comes with them, remember?’

‘Nor did I,’ Toil said. ‘Doesn’t mean we can pretend we don’t have them though.’

Safir nodded in agreement. ‘Just remember who we were following when we got the damn things, yes?’

‘Ah, Princess?’ interrupted Anatin. The commander of the Mercenary Deck stepped forward from the crowd. ‘Did we not have an agreement regarding discipline within my company?’

‘Yeah, I recall something o’ the sort,’ she said, inspecting her knuckles. ‘Honestly though, I didn’t think your book of regulations would cover the eventuality.’

Anatin smirked. ‘That’s because you’ve not spent enough time around these dumbshits. Forel?’

The company quartermaster bobbed his head. ‘Ah, yes. Page six I believe, sir. Use of heavy ordnance on the ship, building or anything similar that members of the company are occupying at the time.’

‘And the punishment?’ Anatin asked with an eyebrow raised at Toil.

‘Ah, well.’ Forel gestured to the bloody groaning mess on the deck of the barge. ‘Pretty much exactly what she did. But with all due procedure first.’

‘Really? Bugger. So much for my moral high thingy.’

‘With the usual caveats of course,’ Forel added.

‘Which are?’ Toil said.

‘Company commander reserves the right to shoot the offender in the head should any of his stuff be damaged or there’s an unsatisfactory level of alcohol within easy reach.’

Anatin coughed. ‘We prefer to think of that as more of an unwritten rule, don’t we, boys and girls?’

The rest of the Cards said nothing, no one willing to become the focus of this conversation. When Toil gave Anatin her sweetest smile those nearest Anatin edged slightly away.

‘But Forel’s actually written it in, hasn’t he?’

‘’Course he hasn’t!’

‘I … well. It’s pretty much the first rule o’ the company, sir,’ Forel said. ‘Seemed only right to write it in.’

‘Oh for pity’s sake.’ Anatin shook his head. ‘Fine, lucky guess from you, Toil. Point is, they’re my troops whether or not you’re currently paying the bill.’

She nodded. ‘High time, then, that they learned my first rule. I don’t give a damn what they get up to, except when it gets in the way of what I’m paying for. Paying damn well too – maybe too well given all the new clothes and jewellery I see all around me. But what you all need to learn is that I’m buying something for my money – the tough-as-nails unit I need to complete my mission exactly as I need it done. That includes not drawing attention except when it’s called for, certainly not waving pissing flags to any of our recent acquaintances who might be looking for us. Am I understood?’

No one replied, but Toil didn’t wait for a response. She stalked her way back to the rear cabins and the Cards cleared her path with unusual haste. Lastani scuttled along in her wake, not meeting anyone’s eye. Once they were gone, Safir cleared his throat.

‘Anyone got a piece of paper?’

‘Why?’ Anatin demanded.

Safir clutched his hands to his heart. ‘She called us tough as nails. I need to write to Mother and tell her! She’ll be so proud!’

Anatin snarled and punched him. A great cheer rose up from the rest of the company and the deck descended into a brawl.

As the afternoon turned a lazy eye towards dusk, Lynx felt his eyelids sinking. Long streaks of cloud stretched across the sky, now tinged pink and orange against the bright blue. The skyriver, faintly thinner as they headed south, was a wisp of gold and grey overhead. Below it the wilds stretched into the dusty distance unbroken by forest or hill.

Dun savannah ran for miles, marred only by clumps of wild rose and wedge-shaped anthills angled to avoid the afternoon sun. Closer at hand, fronds of creeper hung in broad sheets over the edge of the canal. Fat bell-shaped flowers looked up to the sky as bees hummed all around and the lowest leaves trailed in the water.

Lynx groaned and shifted his feet off the gunwale to sit more upright. ‘Is it time to start drinking yet?’ he called over his shoulder.

The comment drew idle laughter.

‘Fancy-pants Hanese bastards,’ croaked Varain from the piled crates behind Lynx. He gave Lynx’s chair a kick. ‘Too good to drink all day with the rest of us, eh?’

‘Better’n most of you lot, aye,’ Lynx said. ‘Shame that doesn’t mean shit by normal human standards.’

He felt something bump his shoulder and turned, squinting into the setting sun until he saw a battered pewter cup and Sitain’s face behind.

‘Aha, knew we’d make a proper merc out of you yet, Sitain!’

He settled back in his chair, adjusting the long mage-gun in his lap so he wasn’t about to shoot off his toes before taking a mouthful. The beer was sour, lukewarm and gritty, but Lynx wasn’t feeling overly fussy. Not about drink anyway, and there was sod-all food worth getting excited about on the barge.

Sitain settled in beside him, shunting the chair forward until she could put her feet up. The young woman had her new jacket on, fitted to her frame and unbuttoned in a way that certainly wasn’t for Lynx’s benefit. On her head was a large maroon hat against the sun, but now evening was come she had tilted it at a ridiculous angle to shade her eyes.

Lynx looked around at the other mercenaries on deck, noting with amusement the sudden rash of respectability among them, or at least something above the usual air of vagrancy anyway. Deern lounged next to Varain; scrawny and half-naked, but with a half-dozen charms and pieces of jewellery hung round his neck in addition to the ghosts of willow leaves tattooed on his skin.

Layir sprawled on top of the flat cabin roof behind them, looking for all the world like the exiled nobleman of Olostir that he absolutely wasn’t. He wore a glittering smile, golden necklace and rings, and a crisp white shirt; carelessly and effortlessly handsome in a rakish sort of way. The image was enhanced by the merc beside him, Brellis, who seemed as delighted with Layir’s smooth muscled skin as he was himself.

Layir lived and looked the man he intended to be, Lynx reflected with no small amount of envy. Lynx had never managed that trick. His past was clear to read in the tattoo on his cheek and the scars on his back, even if he had a fine new coat and boots back in his cabin.

Most of the others on deck also showed similar signs of wealth and contentment. Even Varain wasn’t looking too dishevelled, the gruff veteran wearing a red silk scarf around his neck and a neatly repaired tunic.

‘Getting paid suits us,’ Sitain commented, following Lynx’s gaze.

‘Aye, say what you like about Toil—’ Lynx scowled and raised a hand. ‘Shut up, figure of speech that was. We don’t have time for your list of grievances. Anyway … yeah, say what you like about her, she pays well.’

‘Not much choice there,’ Sitain reflected. ‘A third of us are marked and she can’t afford to lose us, Anatin will know that.’

‘I don’t care,’ Lynx said. ‘I’ve had enough jobs where I never got paid at all. Everyone got a bonus after Jarrazir and she saw to the death-pay for our lost. Whatever her reasons, she chose the better path when I’m sure there were less friendly options in her head.’

Sitain hmmed. ‘Doesn’t sound much like her, come to think of it. Was it your idea? Something you got her to promise while she was purring in bed?’

‘Um, yeah, let’s go with that,’ Lynx said with a laugh. ‘Happy to take the credit.’

‘Oh gods, I just pictured it,’ Sitain said with a shudder. ‘Go get me another drink!’

Lynx smirked and finished his own. He passed the gun to Sitain, gave her a suggestive look that actually did seem to make her queasy, and stood.

The view had hardly changed this past week, but had yet to become dull after too much excitement in Jarrazir. Their journey had been a long one; ten days on the Ongir Canal out of Jarrazir and crossing the inland sea known as Lake Udrel, now over a week on one of the longest Duegar canals on the continent, the Shrelan Canal, which worked a zig-zag path south-west.

There wasn’t much in the way of civilisation out here until you reached the coast, just backwater fiefdoms and lost villages. Far to the north was the Greensea and, beyond that, Lynx’s homeland of So Han, but the wilds here saw few humans. Canal water wasn’t great to drink or use for crops so there were few waystations or settlements. Where there were waterways on the great continent of Urden, there were tolls, but most days had been a peaceful glide through the empty land between pockets of civilisation.

Lynx had observed life out there though, as he let the jangle of bloody, brutal memories from Jarrazir start to fade. Much of it seemed unbothered by the gentle passage of a barge train – hauled by teams of flathorns that had once grazed free on these plains. Great clouds of butterflies could often be seen crossing the landscape, pursued by birds and flying lizards. Huge black bees attended the flowers at the canal side and many-legged things scuttled through the undergrowth. The further they went south-west the more flying lizards were common and now the sun was setting, canal martins darted all around the barges, feeding on the insects.

Lynx looked up as he poured more beer from the deck’s keg. There were four roosting boxes under the eaves of the barge-master’s station – years of plying these waters teaching the bargemen that the voracious birds were a blessing.

As he returned to his seat, more mercenaries emerged from the low cabins. The barges were built with a central cabin running the length of it and wide cargo platforms on either side. They were hauling wool and cotton for the main, but also precious blocks of paper and more wine and beer than was safe around Anatin’s Mercenary Deck.

It was enough to justify the journey, but most of the barge-master’s profit would come on the return where they hauled oil, precious metals, spices, medicines, and tobacco. The hub of the Mage Islands was called Caldaire and it straddled the entrance to the Shrelan Canal. That position allowed it to dominate trade from all parts of the Callais Sea, being the only route to the silk lands west of the Hanese Mountains. For that return journey, the Cards wouldn’t have to pay for passage, the value of almost fifty guns coming into its own.

‘It starting yet, Sitain?’ Anatin called as he emerged into the sunlight.

‘Not long,’ she replied.

More Cards appeared, Toil among them, but Lynx was already settled back beside Sitain, waiting for the show to begin. It had unsettled them all at first, but now they mostly looked forward to evening. The barge-master still thought it an ill omen, but the mages of the Cards claimed otherwise and at least two of them were expert enough for their word to carry weight.

The shadows lengthened with every passing minute and for once the Cards were content to sit together in silence. To Lynx that seemed like a minor miracle in itself, but after some of the things they’d seen together, it hardly registered.

Beside him, Sitain had a small glass ball in her fingers. She held it up to the fading light to inspect it. From where Lynx was sitting, it looked dully grey, but no doubt to the eye of a night mage it was rather more interesting. He knew they were mage beads – not as powerful as the cartridges in his gun, but easy for most mages to make.

A supply of glass beads and a modicum of control was all a mage needed for a basic weapon. Cartridges were made with God Fragments, the crystal-like shards that were all that remained of the five gods, used to focus and concentrate the mage’s magic. It was strange to think of the Militant Religious Orders using holy relics on a daily basis, but profit and power had somehow worked an exception to the usual reverence.

‘Fancy making me some of those?’

She gave him a sideways look. ‘Why?’

‘Why do you think? Not having to kill people can be useful.’ He shifted in his seat and looked at his comrades. ‘I realise not everyone ’round here understands that, but I thought you would.’

‘Is that what all the noise is in Toil’s cabin? You explaining about ethics and stuff?’

Lynx coughed and glanced back at Toil. The sometime assassin caught his eye and gave him a quizzical frown. He grinned awkwardly and looked away.

‘Aye, absolutely. The woman’s a fool for lectures on morality.’

‘Good to hear. The answer’s no, I’m afraid, not yet. Atieno says I shouldn’t trust any I make at first. Once I’ve done fifty or so, mebbe they’re worth keeping, but not before.’

‘How many you done?’

‘Including those I broke?’

‘No.’

Sitain looked away. ‘Not fifty, put it that way. These ones felt better though.’

?