Kellanved's Reach

Ullara’s head sank in exhaustion and she struggled to hold it up. ‘But I don’t …’

‘No matter, come.’ The woman gestured to some sort of sledge they’d brought with them. ‘You are welcome. We thank you for answering our call.’

She sank then into the layered warm furs, just happy to be out of the punishing winds.

*   *   *

Sitting on the gilded throne in the audience hall of Heng, Kellanved shifted uncomfortably. He drummed his fingers on the gilt armrests, sighed loudly, and slumped as if exhausted. Standing next to the throne, arms loose at his sides, Dancer listened as the local official guild of merchants presented their greetings, their authorizations, and began probing Kellanved as to the status of prior agreements and other such understandings.

Finally, Kellanved waved a hand, interrupting, to sigh, ‘Yes, yes. All old arrangements shall be honoured – for now. Thank you.’ He waved the contingent away. ‘Thank you!’

The merchants eyed one another, confused and uncertain, but all bowed and backed away. Once they were gone, and the hall was empty but for guards, Kellanved set his head in one hand. ‘The duties and obligations of rulership are crushing, Dancer my friend,’ he complained. ‘How I long for our old carefree times.’

Dancer cocked a brow. ‘It’s only been two days.’

‘None the less! Every throne is an arrowbutt! Uneasy rests my bottom! Everyone is plotting against the emperor!’

‘Of course they are.’

The wrinkled and spindly mage waved a hand. ‘Oh yes. Of course.’

The doors at the far end of the hall opened and in walked Surly, accompanied by Dassem. They stopped before the throne and Surly crossed her arms. ‘We need to talk privately.’

Kellanved rolled his eyes but waved away the guards. The walking stick appeared in his hands and he leaned forward, resting his chin upon its silver head. ‘Yes?’

‘Strategy,’ she answered, nonplussed. ‘What is our next move?’

Kellanved nodded thoughtfully. ‘It is to our advantage that this city is used to being ruled by a cabal of mages. We will merely replace it with our own – for the time being.’

Surly nodded her agreement. ‘And beyond that?’

Kellanved looked to Dassem. ‘Then we recruit and train for as long as our neighbours will give us. Consolidate.’

The Dal Hon swordsman nodded his agreement.

‘And the neighbours?’ Surly asked.

He glanced significantly to Dancer, then back to her. ‘We’ll need good intelligence as to their moves and intentions.’

Dancer eyed Surly and she inclined her head in agreement once again. ‘Do we have a target?’ she asked.

Kellanved sat back, tapped his fingers on the armrests. ‘I was thinking south first. There is much unrest currently in Itko Kan. We can exploit that.’

For an instant the woman appeared quite startled; then her eyes narrowed as she regarded him, and Dancer could imagine her wondering how he could possibly know such things. ‘As I have heard as well,’ she finally admitted, a touch resentfully.

Kellanved slapped the armrests. ‘Very good. That is a plan.’

‘Can we count on your … allies?’ Dassem asked.

The mage shook his head. ‘No. We cannot. They come and go of their own accord. However – that needn’t leave this room.’

Dassem gave a knowing smile, and nodded. ‘I understand. Deception is the first weapon of any duel.’

‘It’s my main one,’ Kellanved muttered, and Dancer saw Surly tilt her head at that, as if filing the offhand comment away for future reference.

Now the mage raised his hands and waved them as if shooing everyone off. ‘Very good. You know your duties. Get to them.’

Surly drew a hard breath, but bowed, if shallowly. Dassem gave a curt bow from the waist.

Once the two had left and the tall ponderous doors banged shut, Kellanved slumped back in the throne and pressed a hand to his brow. ‘Gods! It’s exhausting! Endless duties and obligations. It will be the death of me, I tell you, Dancer.’

Now the assassin couldn’t help but crook a teasing smile. ‘And just how long has it been? Twenty years? Seventy? Over a hundred? I get confused.’

The mage pressed both hands to his hanging head as if in despair. ‘Oh, shut up.’

However, as Dancer knew it would, the moment passed. Suddenly, Kellanved raised his head and turned to him with a certain impish glint in his eyes. ‘Don’t you think, my friend,’ he said, ‘that it is high time we explored Shadow?’

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Transworld is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com.

First published in Great Britain in 2019 by Bantam Press

an imprint of Transworld Publishers

Copyright © Ian Cameron Esslemont 2019

Map © Neil Gower

Cover Illustration by Steve Stone

Ian Cameron Esslemont has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.