The Facefaker's Game
Page 39
Jack looked at him for several moments. “That’s quite a leap.”
“It was the only thing that made sense,” Ashes said, shrugging. “Tuln told me the Glamourists had weird magic. That they did lots of different things, like turn whole armies away and turn invisible and destroy a whole city. But it didn’t make sense if they just . . . unmade things. And—and I thought that sounded like a card trick.”
“Blood and bone,” Jack said, laughing. “Of course you’d think it’s like cards.”
Ashes stuck his tongue out at the man. “It is! You can make someone believe anything if you know where they’re looking. If you wanted to turn a whole army away, or be invisible, or destroy a city that asked for your help, you could do it all with the same trick. You make the army believe there’s no reason to go to war. You make the people around you believe you’re not really there. And the city.” He grinned, excited despite himself. “If a city asked your help beating invaders, you make the invaders believe the city’s not there anymore. You don’t leave any trace it existed in the first place.”
“Damn,” Jack said, leaning back. “You cottoned to that rather fast.”
“Course I did,” Ashes said. “You set me up to.”
Jack nodded ruefully. “In my defense, I had to find the relevant information all on my own. When I was younger, Tuln and I spent quite a bit of time researching the old powers. He’s wanted to know more about them for years. But all the best books are squirreled away in one fat Ivory’s basement or another, and few of them are book-lenders, so . . .”
“So you found ways around that,” Ashes said.
“The Artisans had . . . power. Real, inescapable magic. Their magic made them gods. And their descendants—Will and me, and the other canted Stitchers and Weavers like us—do just what they did. Only it’s weakened. Imaginary. They made real things out of nothing, and we make unreal things out of light. We figured that if the Glamourists still existed—”
“They’d do what the Vanishers could do, only illusionary,” Ashes said. “But the Glamourists already used illusions. Just a different kind. So . . . what happens to the illusion magic when all the magic becomes an illusion?”
“That’s where I ran into problems,” Jack said. He grabbed a handful of light reflexively, looked around, and let the light disperse. “If I had to guess, it didn’t change their magic much at all, and that’s the reason the Queens had almost all the Glamourists slaughtered after the Chiming War. They had no other way to keep them under control.”
“Almost all the Glamourists?” Ashes asked.
“Oh, come, now, lad,” Jack said. “Those glass rings are packed full of Glamour-magic. And I can guarantee you’re not the first to destroy one.” He grinned. “Although you might be the first to have done it with your teeth.”
“They’re making new ones,” Ashes realized aloud. “They have a Glamourist imprisoned with them.”
“My thoughts precisely,” Jack said. “A whole line of Glamourists, more than likely. No doubt they’ve been breeding them to keep their supply constant.” Jack looked into his mug. “The magic you have, Ashes, is remarkable. Unprecedented, maybe. You’re the first of your kind we’ve seen in generations.” He still did not meet Ashes’s eyes, as though he could find answers swirling in his drink. “But I do know this: Glamour could well be the strongest magic still living in Teranis. But it’s incredibly volatile. Fragile in some cases, explosive in others. I feared that if I took too much of a hand in developing your gifts, I might render them useless. That, and I didn’t dare frighten you away.”
It was Ashes’s turn to start examining the insides of his cup. “You were right about that,” he said eventually. “I think I would have thought it was a trap.”
“I’m not proud of doing it,” Jack said. He sounded sincere. “But I can guarantee you it was necessary. Keeping you nearby, and keeping you safe . . . that could have very far-reaching consequences. You could change the course of this city.”
“Sounds like you don’t want me to struggle with self-esteem, either,” Ashes said.
“I’m being quite serious, lad,” Jack said. He leaned forward. “You’re rasa. You woke up in Lyonshire one day with soot all over your face and no memory of who you were, where you came from. And now we come to find out you wield one of Teranis’s oldest magics. You’re an important mystery, and one I mean to solve.”
Ashes stared at him skeptically. “You’re making this sound very important, Jack,” he said. “Last I checked, we’re just thieves.”
“Artificers, too.”
“So really good thieves.”
Jack smiled wearily. “I’ll try not to overdramatize, then,” he said. “I think, between the two of us, we could turn this city upside-down. More than just stealing from Ivories. I think we could change the course of history.”
“You’re overdramatizing,” Ashes said.
“I’m really not,” Jack said. “I can’t think of anyone better suited to accomplish something extraordinary. I want you to join my company.”
“Jack, I—”
“I know you’re worried about your friend. We’ll help you look for him, of course. But after that—I want to work together. I want to be there when you change the world.” He thrust out a hand. “What do you say, lad? Do we have a deal?”
Ashes hesitated. Then he smiled and shook the Artificer’s hand once, firmly. “Eh. I think we do.”
Acknowledgments
OH, wow.
I’ve read a fair quantity of acknowledgments pages, and it seems like every author starts off with, “There are so many people to thank!” and that always came off as disingenuous to me—like they were just covering their backs to make sure no one cropped up later to demand gratitude.
And wow, was I wrong. There are, in fact, way more people deserving of thanks than would fit in this space. And it’d just look like a really long list, anyway.
Thanks to Kelsey, without whom there would be no book. She has endured long stretches of me being not-particularly-husbandly so I could finish this project. She was the support system when I didn’t think I could finish. It’s terribly cliché to say these things, but that does not make them any less true.
Thanks to my parents, without whom there would be no me. There would certainly be no me-who-could-write. They were the ones who indulged my arty habits, so my career as a writer is mostly their fault.
Thanks to Sophia, who put up with something like thirteen missed deadlines and still believed in The Facefaker’s Game, and in me.
Thanks to Amanda, who knows all the weird details about publishing and keeps me from making stupid decisions.
Now we’ve come to the really huge list of names. Thanks to every one of the beta readers (Nathan, Amy, Chelsea, Meredith, and Kyle), who have been thoughtful and gentle and more helpful than they can possibly imagine, though they have very big imaginations. Thanks to the many teachers who have sharpened me as a person and a writer. Thanks in particular to Aaron, who would, I think, hate having his whole title written out here (despite it being an impressive title).
Thanks to Mrs. Hoffarth. I wish I’d finished this in time for you to read it.
There are more, and I’ll feel very silly in a few months when I remember all their names. Thank you, anonymous crowd of benefactors, for the many ways you’ve changed, shaped, and taught me.
Here’s to fooling everyone who’ll believe us, and fooling everyone else.
CHANDLER J. BIRCH grew up ignoring the Rocky Mountains in favor of Middle Earth, Narnia, and Temerant. He lives in Colorado Springs with his wife, Kelsey, and their two dogs, Winter and Bandit. This is his first novel.
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Copyright © 2016 by Chandler J. Birch
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Interior design by Lewelin Polanco
Cover design by Tal Goretsky
Author photo © David Adams
Cover art, Face: Alexandre Capellari/Arcangel;
Cityscape © The Francis Frith Collection
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Birch, Chandler J. author.
Title: The facefaker’s game / Chandler J. Birch.
Description: First Simon451 trade paperback edition. | New York : Simon451, 2016.
Identifiers: LCCN 2016019143 (print) | LCCN 2016027291 (ebook) | ISBN 9781501147753 (pbk.) | ISBN 9781501111990 (E-Book)
Classification: LCC PS3602.I57 F33 2016 (print) | LCC PS3602.I57 (ebook) | DDC 813/.6—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016019143
ISBN 978-1-5011-4775-3
ISBN 978-1-5011-1199-0 (ebook)