Spellslinger: The fantasy novel that keeps you guessing on every page

Ven’asp, however, seemed delighted. ‘How about his own secret?’ he asked, his smirk mean and triumphant as he looked down at me. ‘The girl betrayed you, boy. She sold you out to pass her tests. To secure her mage’s name of Neph’aria, she revealed to us that you have the shadowblack. Do you still feel prideful now?’


‘Mostly I feel relieved,’ I said, speaking honestly for a change. I’d been afraid that Nephenia … no, Neph’aria … I’d worried she might not go through with it. She was a good person who’d been trapped by the same rotten circumstances as I would have been if I hadn’t met Ferius Parfax. She deserved a chance to make a life for herself.

‘And you kept this vile illness a secret?’ Ven’asp asked. ‘Even from Ke’heops himself?’

Actually they kept it from me. I was about to say as much when I saw the way everyone was looking at me now. This is how they do it. This is how they rewrite history. They knew my parents had concealed my having the shadowblack, but with Ra’meth out of the running to become clan prince, they would need to stay on my father’s good side. That meant overlooking his crime, which meant blaming it on me. ‘I suppose it hardly matters now, does it?’

‘Spoken like a true coward,’ Te’oreth said. ‘So then, what secret do you have for us? You can’t truly believe that your fabrications about the House of Ra taking advantage of this Sha’Tep conspiracy will buy you a mage’s name.’

And there was the second part of the story that had to be rewritten. Ra’meth couldn’t be branded a murderer and conspirator. His family still had power and influence. Why should any of the lords magi make an enemy when they could instead be owed a favour?

I looked up at their faces, these great mage warriors of our people, these wizened old men and women. I saw the hint of optimism in Osia’phest’s otherwise carefully neutral expression. Was there a chance that, with all that had happened, the council might actually grant me my name and give me a place among my people?

‘No,’ a voice said. It was my own, which surprised me. ‘No, Lords Magi, the secret I’ve uncovered isn’t that Ra’meth tried to use the Sha’Tep conspiracy in order to take control of the clan. It wasn’t even that our own people massacred the Mahdek tribes to take their magic and this very city we now live in.’ I walked over to the small table with the pen and ink next to finger-length rolls of parchment upon which the supplicant had to write the secret they would submit to the council. I wrote down a single sentence before rolling it up and handing it to one of the clerks, who ascended the steps of Te’oreth’s pillar and handed it to him.

The old mage gave it only a moment’s glance before he whispered a spell, setting the parchment alight and sending the ashes raining down at my feet.

‘What did it say?’ An’atria asked him.

He didn’t answer, so I did. ‘It said that there’s no amount of magic in the world that’s worth the price of a man’s conscience.’

It’s customary at the end of testimony for the supplicant, whether bound or not, to close their eyes as they await the court’s verdict. Success results in a second slip of parchment placed in the supplicant’s hands upon which is written his or her mage name. Failure is emptiness. I didn’t close my eyes, nor did I hold out my hands. I was done hiding and I was done begging. I turned and started for the door.

‘You abandon the trial?’ An’atria asked. ‘You would set aside your chance at passing your tests, at being granted a mage’s name?’

I paused for a moment, my hand on the door between the halls of magic and the wide world outside. ‘I already have a name.’

As I walked out through the front entrance of the court, I made sure they heard me when I said, ‘My name is Kellen Argos.’





Epilogue


I tromped the quarter-mile back to where my horse waited for me and checked on his leg. It didn’t seem to bother him any more, but since I didn’t know much about horses I walked him to the edge of town just to be sure. Not long after, I woke to a mouthful of horsehair. At some point I must’ve dozed off and slumped face first against the animal’s rump. After that the horse and I agreed it would be less embarrassing for both of us if I rode. So I mounted, awkwardly, and set out in the direction of the shack Ferius had spoken of.

I only got as far as the arch that led out of town before a figure stepped out onto the road in front of me.

‘You’re not leaving,’ Shalla said. She had tears in her eyes and glimmers of blue and yellow magical force drifted up from the bands around her forearms to swirl around her hands.

A glance at the movements of her fingers told me she was preparing a lightning spell. Figuring the horse had suffered enough already on my account, I dismounted. ‘I’m glad you’re okay, Shalla.’

She gave a terse nod. I was pretty sure that was all the acknowledgement I was ever going to get from her for having nearly died trying to save her life. ‘Mother and Father healed me. We’re a family.’ The last part sounded like an accusation.

‘You are,’ I said, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice. ‘You, Mother, Father – you’re a family. A proper Jan’Tep family.’ I was going to leave it there, but then I realised that what I’d said was true, but not complete. ‘And you’re my sister, Shalla. You’ll always be my sister.’

‘Then come back!’ she pleaded, her voice cracking and the flickers of light disappearing from her hands.

‘There’s no place for me back there.’ I reached up with the sleeve of my shirt and rubbed at my left eye. I was going to need to apply more of Mer’esan’s paste soon. ‘It’s over for me, Shalla.’

She ran up to me and grabbed hold of my arm, an oddly childish gesture for her. ‘But you can stay, don’t you see? Father has the support of most of the council already, and once people hear what Ra’meth tried to do—’

‘And what our uncle tried to do too.’

She shook her head, dismissing the notion. ‘He was Sha’Tep. Everyone understands that. Besides, people think Father sent you to put a stop to it – that our family dealt with the problem. It’s a sign of our house’s dignity.’

Dignity seemed like the wrong choice of word to me. ‘I can’t help but notice that Ke’heops isn’t here to thank me personally.’

She looked uncomfortable, and I realised she had begged him to come. ‘It’s all right,’ I said. ‘It’s better this way.’

‘It’s complicated,’ she said.

I couldn’t help but smile at that. I reached out and took a piece of her hair in my hand. It was one of those stupid things we used to do as kids – a kind of taunt that masked affection. We never were a hugging family, but I decided I didn’t care for once what kind of family we were and pulled her into an embrace. Surprisingly she didn’t strike me down with lightning or fire or even a nasty look.

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