by Jen Williams
‘Oho,’ she said, pushing him instead towards the table. The bottle of rum was quickly overturned. ‘You are optimistic indeed if you think we will even get that far.’
‘Whatever my lady desires,’ said Frith, his eyes as dark as an oncoming storm, and for some time after there was very little talking at all.
‘You truly intend to stay?’
The riverlands port was busy, and men and women and children moved all around them – bidding farewell, loading goods onto boats, buying fish fresh from the river or herbs from the far swamp lands – but they stood in the dark mouth of an alley, and Ephemeral wore a deeply hooded cloak. No one paid them any mind. Sebastian could see a narrow slice of her face in the shadows, and her eyes were solemn.
‘Not all of us. Some have decided to return to Ynnsmouth, and they are making their own way. But I think this is the end of our time together, Father.’
Sebastian looked down at his feet. He knew that he should feel relief, but instead he felt fear – not for them, but for himself.
‘I know you will hold your own against the Narhl,’ he said. He forced himself to smile. ‘I think they are about to learn an awful lot in a very short amount of time.’
‘You taught us so much.’ Ephemeral reached out and took his hand. She wore gloves, despite the warmth of the riverlands.
‘Not enough,’ he said, and then shook his head. ‘I didn’t learn enough from you. I didn’t pay enough attention. I have been a fool.’
She smiled, her golden eyes shining. ‘We must make our own way now, Father. But we will never truly leave you.’
There was a shout, and Sebastian turned to see Frith and Wydrin approaching. When he turned back to the alleyway, Ephemeral had already gone, vanished back into the shadows.
‘You ready to go?’ Wydrin was carrying a crate full of bottles of mead. When she saw him looking at it, she shrugged. ‘It’s a long bloody journey back to Litvania.’
‘That is where you’re going?’
‘That’s where we’re all going.’ Wydrin gave Sebastian a withering look. ‘You look peaky. I’m not letting you out of my sight for a while yet, Seb.’
‘I need to retrieve something from my family’s vault,’ said Frith. ‘It may make a difference to our future plans.’
Sebastian looked at the pair of them. Frith had been quiet since Skaldshollow, haunted by the fate of Joah – there was much he would not speak of, and Sebastian imagined that the loss of the Edenier had not been easy for the young lord to take. And yet there was a peace between the two of them now, an acceptance that only a fool could not spot. Or anyone who did not sleep in the room next to theirs, at least.
‘Then let’s get out of this place.’ Sebastian took a slow, deep breath, trying not to think about what he was leaving behind. ‘Let’s go somewhere where the rocks stay on the ground like they’re supposed to.’
They took the first longboat south, making themselves as comfortable as they could amongst the sacks of grain and barrels of beer. Sebastian looked back as the boat drew away, meaning to take one last look at the mountains, and instead found his eyes drawn to a lone figure on the jetty. He had long brown hair, and a face mottled grey and white and brown, like a pebble. After a moment the figure raised his hand in farewell, before turning away and walking back into the shadow of the mountain.
Acknowledgements
If The Copper Promise was an unexpected journey, then The Iron Ghost was a Quest of Great Significance, and as such a cast of mighty heroes were on hand to help me through it, often with Unfeasible Weapons of Great Size (or so they told me to say).
Thanks firstly to everyone who supported the first book: bought it, read it, said good things, sent me photos of it, allowed me to draw dragons inside. It has been the busiest and craziest year of my life, and I remain staggered by the loveliness of readers and the book community in general.
Enormous gratitude to my wonderful editor Claire Baldwin, whose enthusiasm and wisdom were invaluable at every stage, and to the marvellous Caitlin Raynor, who kept me calm and supplied with cake on launch day. Thanks also to the whole team at Headline, particularly the design team who have given me two stonking covers in a row.
Thanks as ever to my agent, Juliet Mushens, who remains not only the best agent in the known ’verse, but terrifyingly good at karaoke and an absolute joy to work with. Big love must also go to Team Mushens itself: a unique support group if ever there was one.
Adam Christopher was there at the beginning (before I even knew it was a beginning), and remains an irreplaceable source of advice, support, and withering cynicism. Dude, when are we having that ginger beer?
Thanks to Den Patrick, who has been my debut buddy, my agent bro, my SRFC partner in crime and even, gods help him, my cat sitter. Big love to Liz de Jager, whose caps-lock-littered emails kept me going through hard times, and to Andrew Reid: beta reader, conspirator, top bloke. Thank you once again to Roy Butlin for top notch beta reading duties, and to the lovely John Wordsworth, who set me off on this particular journey. Huge gratitude to everyone who has attended Super Relaxed Fantasy Club in the last year. You rock!
Big thanks and love to my mum and to Jenni, who have been keeping me sane longer than anyone else. And finally, the biggest thanks of all to Marty – for ten years of laughing at silly things and having the best time ever.
Discover where the journey began . . .
There are some tall stories about the caverns beneath the Citadel – about magic and mages and monsters and gods.
Wydrin of Crosshaven has heard them all, but she’s spent long enough trawling caverns and taverns with her companion Sir Sebastian to learn that there’s no money to be made in chasing rumours.
But then a crippled nobleman with a dead man’s name offers them a job: exploring the Citadel’s darkest depths. It sounds like just another quest with gold and adventure . . . if they’re lucky, they might even have a tale of their own to tell once it’s over.
These reckless adventurers will soon learn that sometimes there is truth in rumour. Sometimes a story can save your life.
Out now