Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Story Copyrights
Also by Bradley P. Beaulieu
Praise for Bradley P. Beaulieu
Dedication
In the Eyes of the Empress's Cat
Lest Our Passage Be Forgotten
Prima
Sweet as Honey
Shadows in the Mirrors
Parting the Clouds
An Instrument of War
Unearthed
Flotsam
Prey to the Gods
A Trade of Shades
Good Morning Heartache
Cirque Du Lumière
How Peacefully the Desert Sleeps
Foretold
To the Towers of Tulandan
From the Spices of Sanandira
Acknowledgements
Kickstarter Acknowledgements
About the Author
The Winds of Khalakovo
The Straits of Galahesh
The Flames of Shadam Khoreh
Strata
Lest Our Passage Be Forgotten
& Other Stories
Bradley P. Beaulieu
Copyright © 2013 by Bradley P. Beaulieu
Cover art by Sang Han © 2011
Cover design by Bradley P. Beaulieu
Interior art by Evgeni Maloshenkov © 2013
Author photo courtesy of Al Bogdan
All rights reserved.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
First Edition
ISBN: 978-1-93964-909-6 (pbk.)
ISBN: 978-1-93964-910-2 (epub)
ISBN: 978-1-93964-911-9 (Kindle)
Please visit me on the web at
http://www.quillings.com
“In the Eyes of the Empress’s Cat” (as by Brad Beaulieu) © 2006 by Bradley P. Beaulieu. First published in Orson Scott Card’s Intergalactic Medicine Show, March 2006.
“Lest Our Passage Be Forgotten” © 2008 by Bradley P. Beaulieu. First published in Realms of Fantasy Magazine, June 2008.
“Prima” © 2013 by Bradley P. Beaulieu. Previously unpublished.
“Sweet as Honey” © 2009 by Bradley P. Beaulieu. First published in Orson Scott Card’s Intergalactic Medicine Show, November 2009.
“Shadows in the Mirrors” © 2008 by Bradley P. Beaulieu. First published in Dimensions Next Door, edited by Martin H. Greenberg and Kerrie Hughes, DAW Books, 2008.
“Parting the Clouds” © 2012 by Bradley P. Beaulieu. First published in Time-Traveled Tales, edited by Jean Rabe, CreateSpace, 2012.
“An Instrument of War” © 2013 by Bradley P. Beaulieu. Previously unpublished.
“Unearthed” © 2013 by Bradley P. Beaulieu. Previously unpublished.
“Flotsam” © 2004 by Bradley P. Beaulieu. First published in L. Ron Hubbard Presents Writers of the Future Volume XX, edited by Algis Budrys, Galaxy Press, 2004.
“Prey to the Gods” © 2013 by Bradley P. Beaulieu. Previously unpublished.
“A Trade of Shades” © 2004 by Bradley P. Beaulieu. First published in AlienSkin Magazine, February 2004.
“Good Morning Heartache” © 2009 by Bradley P. Beaulieu. First published in Spells in the City, edited by Martin H. Greenberg and Jean Rabe, DAW Books, 2009.
“Cirque Du Lumière” (as by Brad Beaulieu) © 2008 by Bradley P. Beaulieu. First published in Fellowship Fantastic, edited by Martin H. Greenberg and Kerrie Hughes, DAW Books, 2008.
“How Peacefully the Desert Sleeps” (as by Brad Beaulieu) © 2007 by Bradley P. Beaulieu. First published in Orson Scott Card’s Intergalactic Medicine Show, October 2007.
“Foretold” © 2010 by Bradley P. Beaulieu. First published in Steampunk’d, edited by Martin H. Greenberg and Jean Rabe, DAW Books, 2010.
“To the Towers of Tulandan” © 2013 by Bradley P. Beaulieu. Previously unpublished.
“From the Spices of Sanandira” © 2011 by Bradley P. Beaulieu. First published in Beneath Ceaseless Skies, issues #70 and #71, 2011.
These stories were first published in slightly different form and appear here in the author's preferred texts.
Also by Bradley P. Beaulieu
The Lays of Anuskaya
The Winds of Khalakovo
The Straits of Galahesh
The Flames of Shadam Khoreh
Short Story Collections
Lest Our Passage Be Forgotten & Other Stories
Forthcoming in 2014 from DAW Books
The Song of the Shattered Sands
Twelve Kings in Sharakhai
The Inverted Thorn
The Thirteenth Tribe
Praise for The Winds of Khalakovo
“Well worth exploring… Beaulieu [depicts] a strange culture [with] a remarkable fantasy/magical reality feel.”
—Glen Cook, bestselling author of The Black Company
“Overlaid with the rich feel of Cyrillic culture, Beaulieu’s debut introduces a fascinating world of archipelagic realms and shamanic magic worked primarily by women. Verdict: Strong characters and a plot filled with tension and difficult choices make this a good option for fantasy fans.”
—Library Journal
“Sailing ships of the sky! Bradley P. Beaulieu’s The Winds of Khalakovo is an energetic, swashbuckling novel with a distinctive flavor, a lush setting, and a plot filled with adventure, interesting characters, and intrigue. Exactly the kind of fantasy I like to read.”
—Kevin J. Anderson, New York Times bestselling author of The Saga of Seven Suns
“Elegantly crafted, refreshingly creative, The Winds of Khalakovo offers a compelling tale of men and women fighting to protect their world. Politics, faith, betrayal, sacrifice, and of course supernatural mystery—it’s all there, seamlessly combined in a tale driven by intelligent and passionate characters whose relationships and goals a reader can really care about. A great read!”
—C. S. Friedman, bestselling author of the Coldfire and Magister trilogies
“A page-turner with twists, turns and palpable danger...”
—Paul Genesse, author of The Golden Cord
“In The Winds of Khalakovo Beaulieu navigates through a web of complex characters... dukes, duchesses, lovers, and more, while building a rich and intricate world thick with intrigue. He plots the course of Nikandr Iaroslov Khalakovo, a prince laden with disease and courtly responsibilities, and deftly brings the tale to a satisfying end that leaves the reader hungry for the next installment. Beaulieu is a writer that bears watching. I look forward to his next novel.”
—Jean Rabe, USA Today bestselling fantasy author
“Bradley P. Beaulieu is a welcome addition to the roster of new fantasy novelists. The Winds of Khalakovo is a sharp and original fantasy full of action, intrigue, romance, politics, mystery and magick, tons of magick. The boldly imagined new world and sharply drawn characters will pull you into The Winds of Khalakovo and won’t let you go until the last page.”
—Michael A. Stackpole, bestselling author of I, Jedi and At the Queen’s Command
Praise for The Straits of Galahesh
“Dark, ambitious, complex, populated with a great cast of characters that leap off the pages, The Straits of Galahesh is just what the doctor ordered if you are looking for a
quality read that’s different from everything else on the market today. The Winds of Khalakovo turned out to be one of the very best SFF works of 2011. Somehow, Bradley P. Beaulieu has raised the bar even higher for this sequel, making The Straits of Galahesh a ‘must read’ speculative fiction title for 2012.”
—Pat’s Fantasy Hotlist
“If you’re the kind of reader who enjoys Steven Erikson’s approach of throwing readers into a setting without too much guidance and letting the story do the job of explaining the details as it progresses, you should have a great time getting to know this fantasy universe. While that happens, you’ll be treated to healthy doses of feudal and international politics, strong characters, unique magic, romance, spectacular battles on land and in the air, and a story that continues to broaden in scope. The Lays of Anuskaya is shaping up to be a fine fantasy trilogy.”
—Tor.com
“Beaulieu presents a [...] vividly realized tale of heroes torn between duty and love.”
—Publishers Weekly
“In the title to this review, I called The Straits of Galahesh a Russian Bear of a novel. Like The Winds of Khalakovo, this is a thick, dense secondary world fantasy that requires a full engagement from the reader to really get the best enjoyment out of. And yes, given the stakes, and the scope of the novel, this is definitely epic fantasy.”
—The Functional Nerds
“If you read The Winds of Khalakovo, then you will want to read The Straits of Galahesh. If you haven’t, then buy and read them both. This one is full of excitement, suspense, and betrayal. Lots of betrayal, some intentional, some not. I’ve read a great deal of fantasy in the last year, and almost all of it was good to great. The Straits of Galahesh was one of the best.”
—Adventures Fantastic
“Reading Bradley P. Beaulieu’s The Lays of Anuskaya series is like traveling through grand undiscovered country, being in a place that is familiar enough to understand and different enough to amaze. [...] The Straits of Galahesh continues the breakneck pace of a fight for an entire world, touched by passion, love, and loyalty. As a reader, almost every chapter added to my sense of wonder and realization. I can’t recommend this fabulous fantasy series highly enough. Read it.”
—Brenda Cooper, author of The Creative Fire and Mayan December
“With The Straits of Galahesh, Beaulieu returns to the vibrant fantasy he introduced in The Winds of Khalakovo. A gritty book packed with big ideas and Byzantine politics, and inhabited by compellingly flawed heroes, Straits is the sort of fully realized epic one can sink into for days. It sings with action, magic, and heart—the perfect second act in a brilliant series.”
—Rob Ziegler, author of Seed
For Mom, who nurtured me in all the ways that mattered.
And Dad, who showed me the man I might become.
In the Eyes of the Empress's Cat
Al-Ashmar sat cross-legged in the tent of Gadn ak Hulavar and placed his patient, a spotted cat, onto a velvet pillow. Gadn lounged on the far side of the spacious tent, puffing on his hookah and waiting for the diagnosis of his grossly thin cat.
Al-Ashmar held his fingers near the cat’s nose. She sniffed his hand and raked her whiskers over his knuckles. When the cat raised her head and stared into his eyes, Al-Ashmar found a brown, triangle-shaped splotch in the right eye, along the left side of the green-and-gold iris. The location of the mark indicated the cat’s liver, but in this case it was the strong color that was most disturbing.
“What have you been feeding her?” Al-Ashmar asked as he stroked the cat, noting its muscle tone.
Gadn shrugged his massive shoulders. “Nothing. Cats find food.”
Al-Ashmar smiled, if only to hide his annoyance. The wealthy always wanted cats of status, but when it came time to care for them, they hadn’t an idea worth its weight in sand.
“Not this one,” Al-Ashmar said as he picked up the cat and stood, absently continuing to stroke its ears. “Please, go to the bazaar; buy a large cage and some swallows. Once a day, put her in the cage with one bird. The activity should interest her enough to induce appetite. Do this for a week and her normal eating pattern should return. If it doesn’t, send me word.”
A bald servant boy rushed into the room and bowed deeply. “Master, if you please, there is a messenger.”
“We are done?” Gadn asked Al-Ashmar.
“Yes.”
“Then bring the messenger here, Mousaf.” Gadn handed Al-Ashmar three coins and then embraced him, kissing one cheek, then the other.
But the servant boy remained. “Begging your mercy, Master, but they are asking for Al-Ashmar ak Kulhadn.”
Al-Ashmar frowned. “Who is, boy?”
“A man, from the palace.”
Gadn shoved the boy aside and rushed from the tent. “Why didn’t you say so?”
Al-Ashmar was right behind him. Moments later, they reached the edge of the caravan grounds, near the pens holding dozens of Gadn’s camels and donkeys and goats. A balding man with a reed-thin beard—the current rage in the empress’s courts—and wearing blue silk finery stood just outside the caravan grounds, on the sandy road leading back toward the city proper. Behind him stood four palace guards.
The first thought through Al-Ashmar’s mind was the sort of beating Gadn’s servant would get for referring to Djazir ak Benkada as a messenger.
The second was what sort of emergency would require the empress’s own spiritual guide and physician to personally come asking for him, a simple physic. At the least it would be to attend to a courtier’s cat—after all, he’d been to the palace a handful of times for just such a purpose—but since Djazir had come personally, he could only assume it was for Bela, the empress’s cat.
Gadn ak Hulavar, as the caravan’s master, stepped forward to meet Djazir. “Please, Eminence, would you care to join us? A smoke, perhaps?”
But Gadn stopped when Djazir held up an open palm and stared at Al-Ashmar.
“You will accompany me,” Djazir said.
“Of course, Eminence,” Al-Ashmar replied.
He left the confused and slightly hurt Gadn and followed the royal guards and physician toward the palace. The walk through the city streets was not long, but neither was the climb easy. Al-Ashmar didn’t consider himself old, but he didn’t have sharp climbs like this in him anymore—not without becoming winded, in any case. Djazir, on the other hand, a good fifteen years older than Al-Ashmar, seemed hardly winded at all.
They walked through the Grand Hallway with its long pool of water and lily pads; up four sets of stairs to reach the empress’s personal wing; through a small garden of palm trees and beds of sand sculptures; and finally reached the waiting chamber of the empress herself.
Even though it had been nearly ten years since he’d had the honor of visiting the empress’s wing, Al-Ashmar was surprised to find so many memories in conflict with reality. The room was as opulent as he remembered, but almost completely stripped of furniture—the only furnishings were the throne itself and a marble table crouched next to it, the only entertainment the three books stacked on top of the table.
Djazir turned to Al-Ashmar and spoke softly. “Understand, ak Kulhadn, you are here to examine the empress’s cat, that is all. You will do your business and you will leave. Is that understood?”
Al-Ashmar tipped his head low. “Of course, Eminence.”
“If the empress decides to speak to you, it will be through her handmaid. But it is taxing on her, and you will formulate brief answers, answers that will not invite further comment.”
“Of course.”
Djazir studied Al-Ashmar’s eyes, and finally, apparently satisfied, turned to the guard nearest the rear door of the room and nodded. The guard rang a small brass cymbal. Minutes passed, and Al-Ashmar began to wonder if the cymbal had been heard, but then the door opened, and two huge eunuchs walked in carrying a palanquin between them. The empress sat inside the covered palanquin, but her form was obscured by the green veils hanging dow
n from the palanquin’s roof. The only thing Al-Ashmar could discern was the golden headdress resting over her brown hair.
They set the palanquin down near the padded throne and, after pulling the fabric away on the far side, cradled the empress from inside and set her gently on the throne. The pair of eunuchs—for only eunuch guards were allowed this close to the empress—then moved to stand behind her, one on each side.
The empress’s eyes drooped, the left lower than the right; she sat tilted to one side, her head arching back the other way; her thin arms rested ineffectually in her lap. She had a face Al-Ashmar barely recognized—another memory that appeared to have faded to the point of uselessness. Then again, the last time he’d seen her had been years before the malady that had left her in such a state.
Al-Ashmar suddenly realized that someone else had entered the room. A woman—young, but no child, she. She moved with a subtle grace, hips swaying as she did so, but she stared at no one until she reached the empress’s side. Thus positioned, she turned and regarded Al-Ashmar with impassive, kohl-rimmed eyes. How stunning those green eyes were. How beautiful.
Much of Al-Ashmar’s mind wanted to compare her to another beauty in his life—dear Nara, his wife who’d passed years ago—but those memories were still tender, and so he left the comparisons where they were. Buried.
Lest Our Passage Be Forgotten & Other Stories Page 1