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Chapter 10: Brimstone Market
Nobody had been murdered in Brimstone Market in four hundred years."It's the first thing they teach you," Pip said, riding Ignis's shoulder like a small, smug parrot. "The Truce of Ash. The Abyss and the Hells got sick of burning each other's trade, so they signed a treaty. No blood on the cobbles. Not a drop. If you want to kill somebody, you take it to the Pit.""The Pit," Kaelen said, from his shuffling half-step behind."The arena, east side. The Pit Lords run it. You can bleed there all you like. Anywhere else inside the walls, the Hall sends a clerk.""A clerk.""With a very long list of ways to ruin you." Pip's tail flicked. "People don't die in Brimstone, my boy. They get signed away."It was a better lesson than any map. Kaelen kept his head down, and his eyes moved.The city climbed the crater wall in terraces, and each terrace had its own smell and its own law. The Lower Market was all haggling and smoke, a hundred stalls under red canvas, where hobgoblins sold knives off
Chapter 9: Collar and Leash
Humans did not walk into Brimstone Market. They were walked.Kaelen kept his eyes on the cobbles and the leash slack in front of him and tried to remember how a man with no hope was supposed to shuffle. It was harder than it sounded. The body wanted to stand tall. The old prince had been taught his posture by a swordmaster with a ruler, and every time Kaelen's shoulders squared, a quiet tug at his throat reminded him who was supposed to be in charge.The tug came from Ignis, at the other end of three feet of braided cord, and she was gripping it like a snake that might still bite."Head down," she muttered."It's down.""Lower. And stop looking at the gate."It was hard not to look. Brimstone Market rose out of the ash plain like a blister on the world. The city had been built in the lip of an old crater, tier on tier of black stone and iron scaffolding, lit from within by a hundred thousand lamps the color of rust. The walls were thirty feet thick and carved all over with grinning fa
Chapter 8: Bounty on a Prince
Five thousand crowns is a great deal of money to spend on a dead boy.Kaelen sat on the tower sill with the poster in his hands and read it a third time. The woodcut had been carved by someone with talent. Beneath it, in the Crown's heavy black ink: Alive, preferred."Alive," he said. "Not 'dead or alive.' Not 'proof of death accepted.' Alive.""I noticed that," said Pip, perched on the shutter. "A corpse is cheap. Nobody pays five thousand for a body unless they've already got a use for the rest of it.""Think," Pip went on. "Somebody's ward breaks, and within a day there are posters on every gatepost for twenty miles. Nobody carves a woodcut that fast. Either the Church is very stupid or it wanted you found."Kaelen had heard that line before, from a very different mouth, on the first day of his second life. It sounded worse in the imp's.Behind them, the bedclothes stirred. Ignis woke the way a cat does, all at once, with her ears forward and her tail flicking. She took the poster
Chapter 7: Maintenance Cultivation
It took Ignis nineteen hours to admit she needed him again, and she did it by trying to start a fight."Draw," she said.Kaelen looked up from the courtyard wall. He had been working through a set of sword forms with a rusted quartermaster's blade, trying to find out what the dead prince's body remembered. It remembered a surprising amount. Church swordmasters had drilled this boy until his hands bled, and his arms still knew the cuts even when the head behind them didn't.Ignis stood at the other end of the yard with her cloak off and her fists wrapped in pale fire. It was whiter than it had been two days ago, a clean silver-gold, almost pretty. She wasn't holding it still. The flame shivered along her knuckles, and her breath came a little too fast."The contract has a clause for this," she said."Dispute resolution. A regulated duel, no lethal blows." He set the sword down. "What's the dispute?""You know what it is.""I really don't."She came at him anyway.She hit like a falling
Chapter 6: The Imp and the Planes
The imp had spent six years locked in a cellar, and he had come out of it with a better business plan than any man Kaelen had ever met."Ransom," the creature repeated, as if the word were a sweet he was rolling around his mouth. He fanned the cards in his claws and studied them with one yellow eye. "I'd say fifty gold. A hundred, if you've got a taste for theater. I do have a thing about being let out of cages in a dramatic fashion.""We're not here to rescue you," Ignis said."No, no, of course you aren't." The imp looked her up and down, from the burned-off Church sun on her cloak to the horns, and gave a little delighted whistle. "Princess Ignis Ashblood. In a Church cloak. Oh, that's rich. That's the best thing I've seen since the garrison started eating their boots."Ignis went stiff. "You know me.""Sweetheart, I know everyone. It's the whole value proposition."He was about the size of a house cat, with gray-green skin, bat wings folded around him like a scarf, and a barbed ta
Chapter 5: Cinder Keep
Cinder Keep had been abandoned for six years, and somebody had left the pantry fully stocked.Kaelen stood in the kitchen doorway and did not like it. Salt in sealed crocks. Sacks of barley gone gray but dry. A row of iron pots on their hooks, and a ladle still hanging beside the stove as though the cook had stepped out for a smoke. In every campaign he had ever run, a dungeon that left its chests unlocked was hiding something."What are you doing?" Ignis asked behind him."Being suspicious.""Of soup?""Of soup that lasts six years."She had found herself a gray Church cloak and wore it like an insult, belted over her leather, the little sun cut off the breast. Kaelen wore a quartermaster's spare: wool trousers, boots a size too big and stuffed with rag, a tunic with the sun scratched out. The body fit better than it had yesterday. Mortal Tier 4 showed up in small ways. He had shifted a fallen roof beam this morning without noticing.Ignis had mentioned Hallowgate eleven times since
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