Excerpt from The Ghost in Exile, a high fantasy novel

Today, I'm giving you a pre-view of my novel that is coming out late next month. Read the first chapter of The Ghost in Exile. Kindle copies are available for pre-order from Amazon, and you can pre-order an autographed paperback version for only $10 from my website. I'd love to hear your comments.


Chapter OneThe Ghost rubbed the back of his head as he went down the back steps of the Green Sandpiper. It still hurt, but not too badly, making it clear that he’d suffered no serious injury. Still, what had he gotten himself into with the woman?I tried to reform; it didn’t work. I’m a murderer. Nothing more. He had no idea what he would tell Zotico about the job they’d discussed. If it truly was his type of kill, should he turn it down to help a woman whose name he didn’t even know? He saw Samantha’s face. He knew what his daughter would expect, but she’d never the murderous depth of his soul. He blocked her out of his mind and focused on his surroundings instead. Five years had dulled his memory of the horrors of the Saloynan capital. Beggars were everywhere—young children and old men and women, emaciated and covered in running sores. In the poorer sections of the city, sewage ran down the middle of the streets. Whores far younger than his daughter plied their trade. A few bodies of those who’d frozen in the night hadn’t yet been gathered up. The capital of Korthlundia was not without problems, but poverty was nowhere near this widespread or abject. In Saloyna, King Salome, like his father before him, cared nothing about his people. They starved while he lived in luxury that would empty the Korthlundian treasury. The Ghost was relieved to reach the temple complex, which was kept clean and free of beggars. In sharp contrast to Ares’s temple, Aphrodite’s shone a brilliant white with carvings of lovers frolicking in every imaginable position. While The Ghost had seen Aphrodite’s temple every time he visited Ares’s, he had never been inside. The only thing a woman’s love had ever done for him was ruin his life and send him into exile when he had been only eighteen years old.  When he entered the temple, he was greeted by soft music and delicate perfume. Young women and men—acolytes of Aphrodite—in sheer robes that concealed nothing danced in celebration of the goddess. Worshipers watched the dance until they found an acolyte to their liking. They gave the priestess the proper donation and disappeared with the acolyte into one of the private rooms that lined one wall of the temple, where they worshiped the goddess in a more intimate manner. Some of the acolytes danced near him. He examined their necks until he saw the one wearing a vulture pendant. He took the young woman’s arm and led her to the priestess. “I’ll take this one,” he told her. The priestess looked him over and nodded. “Chrysante, make sure this gentleman receives our special treatment.” Chrysante led him toward the rear of the temple. She opened a door, and they entered a room with nothing other than an altar. Climbing onto the altar, Chrysante purred, “Would you like to take your pleasure on Aphrodite’s altar before meeting your guests? Ares’s high priest said you might, and it will bring you luck with the young woman who accompanies him.” Chrysante arched her back, making her breasts stand out beneath the sheer fabric. Embarrassed, The Ghost felt himself harden. “I would not,” he snapped.The acolyte paled and jumped off the altar. Sulis curse it! It isn’t her fault the Saloynan gods are twisted. “Right this way, sir.” She scrambled to the door on the opposite side of the altar and opened it. Following her, The Ghost entered a corridor. She took him to the end of the corridor and stopped before another door. “They await you in there. I’ll leave you now.” She fled back down the corridor. He must have sounded even harsher than he thought.When the acolyte had disappeared, The Ghost knocked on the door, and Zotico’s voice bid him enter. Zotico luxuriated on a sofa decorated with nymphs doing things The Ghost would rather not imagine. Two easy chairs flanked the sofa, and a table in the middle of the room was covered in breakfast food. A woman stood on the opposite side of the room with her back to him. She was studying a tapestry. “Do you think this is even possible?” she asked of the act the tapestry depicted.Zotico waved his hand dismissively. “I’m sure it is. Those who worship Aphrodite are quite talented.”  The priest looked at The Ghost. “But considering how quickly you arrived, I take it you didn’t avail yourself of their expertise. I assure you, young Chrysante can—”“I didn’t come here to ‘avail’ myself,” he snarled. “I came to tell you I may not be able to take the job after all.”“You what?” the young woman whirled around, and The Ghost gasped and hurriedly bowed. Last time The Ghost had seen her, Princess Acantha had been a gangly girl of fourteen with a fondness for horses. Now, she’d filled in her womanly shape. She was tall, with dark hair flowing around her head, deep set eyes, and an extremely narrow nose. “You would refuse to do a service for your queen?”The Ghost blinked. “I hadn’t heard of your father’s death.”“He’s not dead yet,” Zotico answered for her. “But I’m sure shortly you will help spread the good news. The monster has ruled for far too long, and at the rate he’s going, he soon won’t have any heirs left. He had the last of his sons executed just last month.”The princess glared at The Ghost. “How long before he decides I, too, am a threat?”“A true lover of his country wouldn’t let such atrocities continue,” Zotico said. “Besides our land will be plunged into chaos if he dies without an heir. We’d be completely vulnerable to those heart-eating fiends.” The Ghost sickened as he remembered the sound of the Massossinan officer taking a bite out of Phelix’s heart. But it wasn’t the thought of the Massossinan menace that moved him. He thought of the children starving in the streets and of the Salome he’d known when he worked as his father’s assassin.You could tell a lot about a person by the way they treated animals. When The Ghost had been the king’s assassin, his cover was as assistant master of the horse. Salome had been brutal to his horses. The Ghost had spent countless hours doctoring the injuries the prince inflicted on his beasts and in calming their agitation after he’d ridden them. But his most vivid memory of Salome involved the young stable boy, Paulos. Paulos hadn’t been quite right in the head. He was slow catching onto things and needed any order explained slowly and carefully before he was sure what to do. But once he understood, he was reliable, and he was always smiling. The Ghost had never known how the lad had gotten a place in the king’s stables, but he assumed he was the bastard of someone important. The Ghost had been on an errand for the king and had just finished cleaning the blood from under his fingernails. As he was returning to the stables, Prince Salome and some of his hanger-ons—Salome didn’t have any true friends—were leaving. Salome had laughed. “That will teach him to obey his lord and master.”The Ghost had assumed the prince was referring to his stallion, who had developed an intense fear of Salome and resisted all of Salome’s attempts to control him. But when The Ghost entered the stables, it wasn’t Aquafire the others were gathered around. The Ghost pushed through the stable hands to find Paulos staring sightlessly at the ceiling with bloody stumps where his hands and feet used to be. Blood dripped onto Paulos’s face, and The Ghost looked up. The missing appendages hung above him. “Dear Gods, what happened?” he asked.One of the stable hands lifted his head from the carnage. His face was white, and his entire body shook. “You know Paulos. He didn’t get the prince’s horse saddled fast enough.”The Ghost had wanted to kill Salome then and there, and he should have. Frare had been a horrible tyrant, but Salome made his father look like a saint. He clenched his fists. Damn all of Massossina to the seven hells! I don’t owe her anything. He berated himself for his initial hesitation to take the job. He’d hesitated when he should have killed his daughter’s enemy, and he couldn’t bear to think of the pain that had caused. He wouldn’t fail another young woman who should be sitting on a throne. He’d keep his promise to the Massossinan woman, but she could wait a day or so. And who knew, maybe he’d be lucky, and she wouldn’t be there when he got back.“When do you want it done?”“As soon as possible.”“Tell me your father’s habits, as thoroughly as you can.”Zotico gestured to the table. “Please, let us do this over breakfast.”The Ghost and Acantha seated themselves in the easy chairs on opposite sides of the breakfast table. Princess Acantha poured herself a glass of wine and sipped it as she detailed her father’s routine. She ate nothing. “He has everything tasted before he eats or drinks. He wears amulets protecting him for all kinds of magic, and he has guards with him constantly, except at night when he sleeps with two large boarhounds. They’d tear a man to shreds at the slightest provocation.” Excitement built in The Ghost as he continued to ask questions and a plan formed in his mind. “I’ll need the livery of a palace servant,” he said. He closed his eyes and savored the rush. If he was destined to be a killer, he might as well enjoy it. * * *After leaving the temple district, The Ghost went to a nearby apothecary. The man behind the counter looked at his weapons warily. “Can I help you?”The Ghost nodded and rattled off a list of ingredients.The man frowned. “There’s only one thing you could be making with that lot—Uttvos serum.” Uttvos serum was a powerful sleeping potion, one The Ghost had made frequent use of. He preferred to kill no one but the target.The Ghost put menace in his eyes. “Is that any concern of yours?”The man shrugged. “No, but I could save you the trouble. I have some already made up.” The man took out a vial containing a thick liquid. “First class quality. Knock out your strongest stallion so you can castrate it without the least fuss.” The Ghost nodded in acknowledgment. “I prefer to make my own.” Only in that way could he ensure the proper strength.The man shrugged and assembled the ingredients. Next, The Ghost went to a second-hand clothier and bought two gowns for Brigitta. He thought he could guess her size, but he was unsure what colors and style to choose. Just what class had Brigitta been in before she’d been enslaved? He settled on two wool dresses—one a midnight blue and the other an emerald green, both with minimal embroidery. He also bought a black cloak with a large hood and a veil like those worn by all respectable women in Saloyna. He hoped Brigitta liked his choices. He’d never purchased clothing for a woman before. When he returned to the Green Sandpiper, the Massossinan woman was asleep in the bed. He set the package containing his purchases beside her and quietly began making the serum over the fireplace. He made it extra strong on account of the boarhounds. As he stirred, he played over in his mind his intended trek through the palace and King Salome’s death at his hand. Part of him thrilled at the idea of Salome’s life in his hands. The rest of him knew his excitement meant his soul was forever lost.He’d come back to Saloyna to take up his former profession because it was the country that had turned a simple stable groom into an assassin whose reputation spanned the world. Still, he wondered, Holy Sulis, Mother of us all, could Ahearn have taken a path that didn’t leave a pile of corpses in his wake? Or was the choice taken from him when a naïve young queen chose him as her lover?.