Darkdawn--Book Three of the Nevernight Chronicle

by Jay Kristoff

  One infamous Minister of Aa’s church, Marcus Suitonius, attempted a foray into the Senate on a platform of “moral reformation.” Complaining loudly that “one can hardly throw a rock in the mazes without killing a fornicator,” he vowed to put an end to the amours being so energetically conducted there. Sadly, his campaign for a “return to family values” came to a groaning halt when he was discovered buggering a sweetboy in the very mazes he proposed to clean up, and to this turn, they remain a sanctuary where every citizen of the Republic is free to fuck their tiny brains out with a partner of their choosing.

  Ah, romance.

  * Arkemist’s salt is a solidified variant of the fuel that powers many of the wondrous devices in the Republic, such as War Walkers and the great mekwerks beneath the Republic’s arenas, as well as mundane items like flintboxes and arkemical lanterns.

  The fuel is reduced to a solid state by dangerous processes, and the salt itself is highly volatile—its production is outlawed outside the Iron Collegium. However, its yield per pound is five times higher than liquid fuel, which means smugglers have the option of earning five times the profit if they’re willing to risk hauling a bomb in their bellies.

  One famous incident concerns a ship called the Iron Codger, which had been badly loaded with forty tons of arkemist’s salt in Dawnspear harbor. The nevernight before the ship was due to set out, one drunken sailor desperately in need of a tobacco fix decided to defy his captain’s strict “no fucking smoking” policy by ducking down to the hold for a quick ’rillo. The resulting explosion was heard all the way up in Stormwatch.

  Even in seaside taverna today, one can hear the words “lighting the Codger” used to describe a particularly marvelous fuckup.

  * This always struck me as a peculiar turn of phrase, truth told. While a donkey’s accoutrements might be of particularly impressive scope to an average littleman, according to annals in the zoology department of the Iron Collegium, a donkey’s proportions simply pale in comparison to some of the other denizens of the Itreyan animal kingdom.

  The whitedrake, for example, Itreya’s largest ocean predator, has an average body length of twenty-five feet, and their harpoons of love can measure almost three feet long—a ratio of 10:1. Liisian blackbulls stand near seven feet tall, with a chief of staff that can measure over three and a half, a ratio of near 2:1. (Interesting fact—when slaughtering their unneeded male calves, Liisian farmers often save the penises, dry them out, and feed them to their dogs—a treat known as a “bully stick.”)

  The image of the flayer squid, a hooked horror that roams the Sea of Stars, can be made all the more horrifying with the knowledge that its babymaker is as long as its entire body (and yes, hooked, to boot). But the clear winner in this struggle of the ages, the sovereign of swords, the capan de phalli capanni, as it were, is none other than the humble barnacle, whose undersea admiral can extend to fifty times the length of its body.

  To put things in proportion, that would be the equivalent of a six-foot man with a three-hundred-foot phallus.

  Thank your gods, ladies and gentlefriends.

  Thank your fucking gods.

  * In actual fact, it doesn’t. Like most occupations in the Republic, piracy is a highly regulated affair. The Itreyan navy is part of an impressive military machine, gentlefriends, and could crush any individual privateer with ease. But the Four Seas are very big places, and being in all of those places at once is somewhat tricky.

  Truth is, gentlefriends, no matter what you have, there’s always some bastard out there who’s looking to pinch it. And this is especially true of fellows with a penchant for drinking grog, wearing eyepatches, and ending each sentence with the word “matey.”

  Since the Battle of Seawall, the idea of working together has sat rather comfortably with Itreya’s freebooter population, but it was quickly realized that governance by anarchy among a pack of thieving pricks simply wasn’t going to work. Give everyone a platform, and everyone will think they’re entitled to voice their opinion, and yes, while everyone’s technically entitled to an opinion, everyone’s also technically entitled to take a shit once a day, but that doesn’t mean I want to hear about it.

  Monarchy, strangely enough, was discovered to be the solution. And not monarchy in a “pomp and pageantry” kind of way, more monarchy in an “I am king and these fellows agree, so you will do what I say or you and everyone you ever loved will be cut into pieces and fed to the drakes” sort of way.

  But with a centralized authority came a neat arrangement with the Itreyan navy. The navy accepted that a certain number of ships would be plundered each year, so long as the pirates agreed that, should this quota be exceeded, they would police their own and save the navy the trouble of hunting all Four Seas for the offenders.

  Sounds a sensible solution to me, matey.

  * Sunsteel is the traditional weapon of the Luminatii Legion, issued to anyone ranking Second Spear or higher. The secrets of its production are tightly guarded, and Luminatii smiths must serve the legion faithfully for twenty years before being taught the art.

  In theory, only the most devout of Aa’s legion can ignite the steel, but truthfully, not every member of the Luminatii is a humorless god-bothering fool. Were you considering joining the legion, gentlefriends, there’s no end of fun can be had with a sword that bursts into flame upon command.

  Just don’t let your superior officers catch you using it to dry your laundry or light a dona’s cigarillo, and you’ll be fine.

  * All jesting aside, Einar “the Tanner” Valdyr, Blackwolf of Vaan, Scourge of the Four Seas, is the 107th king to sit upon the Throne of Scoundrels, and without a doubt, one of most brutal bastards in the history of the Itreyan Republic.

  His first murder, that of his older brother, Hakon, was committed with a frying pan at the tender age of twelve, though it should be noted he hideously maimed his younger brother, Jari, at age ten by throwing him to a pack of dogs. He also reportedly beheaded his father on the same turn he cut out his mother’s tongue, though the only man to ever seek confirmation of the rumor, his former first mate, Oluf Dahlman, was kept alive through three months of near-constant torture (Valdyr would drag him out at revels and beat him with hot chains for the “amusement” of his guests), and no one has dared to ask about it since.

  Valdyr was sold into slavery at age sixteen and fought undefeated for two years in the gladiatii circuits around Vaan for the Wolves of Tacitus, where he first earned the name “Blackwolf.” Valdyr was on his way to compete in the Venatus Magni in the keeping of Tacitus’s son, Augustus, when their ship was attacked by a Liisian privateer named Giancarli. Valdyr killed seventeen of Giancarli’s men during the attack, impressing the pirate so much that he offered the slave a berth on his crew. Valdyr agreed, slitting his former master’s throat and reputedly fucking the wound while Augustus drowned in his own blood.

  You read that right.

  Within twelve months, Valdyr had murdered Giancarli and taken over the man’s ship. He earned early infamy by sinking three Itreyan navy triremes, and fostered a reputation as a bloodthirsty combatant who favored boarding actions over cannon. It was around this time he began flaying the faces off the captains he killed, sewing them into a leather greatcoat that is now reportedly so long, he needs train-bearers to follow

  him wherever he walks. This habit earned Valdyr his second moniker, “the Tanner.”

  Within five years of taking up piracy, and at the ripe old age of twenty-three, Valdyr murdered the 106th king to sit on the Throne of Scoundrels, Saltspitter of the Seaspear clan, and claimed the title for himself. He has ruled Itreya’s pirates undisputed for the past five years. The mere sight of his ebon-sailed ship, the Black Banshee, is enough to make the average merchantman shit his lower intestines, and recent estimates put his personal death toll somewhere in the vicinity of 423 men, women, and children.

  Apologies, gentlefriends, I know I usually try to inject some humor into these footnotes. But believe me when I say thi
s bastard is no laughing matter whatso-fucking-ever.

  * Yes, I know that’s only three. Use your imagination, smartarse.

  * One of the most successful taverna in Liis and indeed, the entire Itreyan Republic. The Pub’s original owner, “Red” Giovanni, was a privateer who sensibly spent his ill-gotten gains on establishing the drinkhouse (rather than wasting it in someone else’s drinkhouse) back when Amai was still two rotten jetties and a lean-to stable. He’s also credited in the annals of the Iron Collegium as a genius behind the greatest marketing campaign of all time.

  Giovanni stumbled across the idea that you didn’t need dancing girls or good ale or fine decor to beat out the competition—you simply needed a name that even the most piss-addled, bowlegged, slack-jawed inebriate couldn’t forget.

  When in doubt, keep it simple, stupid.

  * An alehouse classic known as “The Hunter’s Horn,” in which a poacher named Ernio learns several lessons from various young ladies about the value of possessing of an enormous …

  O, never mind.

  * In which Ernio learns that blowing one’s own horn is almost entirely …

  O, never mind.

  * Guaranteed to make you smile from ear to ear, gentlefriends!

  * Autoerotic asphyxiation, in case you were wondering.

  * Blacksteel, also known as ironfoe, was a wondrous metal created by Ashkahi sorcerii before the fall of their empire. The metal was said to be forged from fragments of the stars themselves, which could sometimes be seen tumbling from the night skies above the empire. Wily sorcerii hunted down these star fragments and forged the metals they contained into peerless weapons.

  Blacksteel never grew dull or rusted and could be sharpened to an impossible edge. Even a fragment of the material was worth a living fortune—pound for pound it was far more valuable even than gravebone.

  How Mouser got hold of an entire sword made out of the stuff is anyone’s guess, but if I were the gambling sort, I’d wager he wouldn’t be able to produce a bill of sale.

  * The final volume in the extraordinarily popular and fabulously licentious Six Roses series, which chronicles the life, times, and jaw-dropping bedroom antics of six courtesans in the court of Francisco X. The series was biographical and named many high-ranking members of court along with the king himself.

  So explosively titillating were the contents (Cardinal Ludovico Albretti was said to have suffered heart failure reading the climactic bordello scene in volume three), publication of the fifth volume caused a major riot in the streets of Godsgrave. The series was declared illegal by Aa’s ministry and, under pressure from his queen, Ilse, the king agreed to ban it—though it should be noted Francisco X was actually something of a fan and only outlawed the books under marital duress.

  The author, Laelia Arrius, was imprisoned for life in the Philosopher’s Stone and sadly never completed the series, hence the presence of the final volume in the library of the dead.

  I’ve only skimmed them, myself. The politics are rather silly. The smut is top-shelf, though.

  * The leviathan is a fearsome predator of the Itreyan oceans and natural foe to the drake. It is possessed of hooked tentacles, a razored beak, and four large, saucer-shaped eyes. The beasts can be found in deep or shallow water and are hunted for their ink, which is both an indelible pigment and a potent hallucinogenic. Dweymeri use the ink in their facial tattoos and rites of adulthood, while the rest of the Itreyan population use it to get utterly shit-faced.

  Ink can be utilized as an intoxicant in three ways—drunk, inhaled, or injected. Its various effects are summarized by this lovely little poem, often sung by children around Godsgrave during games of jump rope or the like.

  Quaff for the nodding,

  Smoking for the high,

  Needle for the bitter man,

  Who’d really rather die.

  Morbid little bastards, aye?

  * The unholy nature of Niah’s … feminine accoutrements … is a matter of some debate amongst theologians. Amongst most normal folk, however, the wickedness of Niah’s immortal lady parts is indisputable, and cursing by them is tolerated, indeed, vigorously encouraged by ministers of Aa’s church.

  * Never do this. No matter how impressive it might sound to your future colleagues. Not only is raw meat more difficult to digest and less nutrient-rich, it’s also rife with ill humors.

  When feasting on the flesh of your enemies, gentlefriends, always take the time to cook it first.

  * Perhaps the oldest drinking game in the history of the Itreyan Republic, Kingslayer was originally known as “Beggar.” The rules for the game are basic—a glass is placed in the center of the table, and each player takes a turn trying to bounce a copper beggar into it. If successful, the player gets to nominate another player to take a drink.

  The nominated player is allowed one chance at “revenge,” by attempting to bounce the coin with their off-hand into the glass. If the revenge bounce is successful, the original nominating player must drink twice. However, the original player is also allowed a chance for revenge, and if successful, the drink tally doubles again.

  As you can imagine, among ambidextrous players, these revenge matches can result in a rapidly escalating tally of drinks. The longest official revenge bout was recorded between Don Cisco Antolini and the newly crowned Francisco XI at a grand gala celebrating the king’s own coronation. The beggar was successfully bounced back and forth between the men twenty-seven times, with the king ultimately missing the twenty-eighth bounce.

  Mathematicians among you will realize this meant the new king was now compelled to drink 67,108,864 shots of goldwine.

  Francisco XI wasn’t the brightest king to sit on the Itreyan throne, but he was a man of his word. Not to see his honor besmirched in front of his entire court, and against the advice of his queen, the newly crowned monarch resolved to make an attempt. He made it to his fifty-seventh drink before he collapsed, and despite the best efforts of his apothecaries, he died the next turn.

  Francisco XI’s reign is the shortest in the history of the Itreyan monarchy, but remarkably, most of the citizenry found the tale of his end rather touching, and the game of Beggar was renamed Kingslayer in his honor.

  When given the choice to be ruled by an honest idiot or a competent liar, most people prefer the idiot.

  * O, fuck me, you were thinking. It’s been a while, I wonder where all the footnotes went? Maybe the author got embarrassed by everyone in his own book taking a steaming shit on them and decided to refrain for the rest of the novel?

  Well, fuck you, gentlefriends.

  The gorewasp is a flying insect of the Ashkahi desert, banded in red and black and measuring around a thumb length. Though it can’t compare to true horrors of the Whisperwastes like retchwyrms or sand kraken, they’re still particularly nasty pricks. Their stings are incredibly painful, and, strangely, a pregnant female’s venom is also imbued with psychoactive properties. Creatures stung by the mother-to-be will be thrown into frenzy by the pain, driven to self-harm or lashing out at those around them in an attempt to end their toxin-induced agony. Herd animals will be abandoned or, more frequently, killed by their fellows, and even human victims have been known to top themselves to end their own suffering.

  The lady gorewasp then goes to work, laying her eggs inside the freshly killed carrion. She’ll lay upward of a hundred younglings, who hatch in a burst of rancid blood and rotting meat around nine turns later. Hence their rather unimaginative name.

  So there. Another footnote. And there’s plenty more where that came from, you ungrateful bastards.

  If you’re such an expert on literature, maybe you can write your own book, neh?

  * There are a total of twenty-eight Itreyan legions under Imperator Julius Scaeva, and aside from the Bloody Thirteenth—Itreya’s renowned slave legion—the soldiers of the Seventeenth are probably the most infamous.

  Led by Caius “Decimus” Viridius (himself an alumnus of the Bloody Thirteenth), the Seve
nteenth are the legion that operate farthest from the civilization, and thus, from the jurisdiction of Godsgrave, expected to keep peace in a largely untamed land that belongs to the Republic mostly in name only. In a place so vast, the legion maintains order largely by reputation rather than physical presence. And it’s not a reputation for kissing babies and helping elderly women cross the street with their market baskets.

  For example, after a rise in taxation in the city of Nuuvash, the civilian populace rose in rebellion and destroyed its small garrison of Itreyan troops. Well-schooled in the art of siege warfare, the Seventeenth quickly retook the city. But Nuuvash was an important trading hub, and, unable to simply put the entire population to the sword, Viridius introduced the punishment of “redding.”

  The entire civilian population, men, women, and children, were divided into groups of one hundred and forced to draw stones in a lottery. Those who drew a red stone—a full tenth of the participants—were set aside. The remaining 90 percent were forced to stone the losing tenth to death, or be executed themselves.

  The final death toll is unknown, but of this we can be certain—that until the Republic’s fall, the people of Nuuvash never rebelled against Itreya again.