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.’