Sneak preview of Dust & Water

Seeing as it's Christmas, here's a sneak peak at my new novel Dust & Water, volume III in The Barefoot Healer. This is a prologue, which is why there's no sign of Adramal. I'm still editing the book, so check back here for news of when it'll be released.

The Elector Galdrakh threaded his way among the narrow streets, counting the turnings to be sure he wouldn't lose his way. A different meeting place every time. Even I'm not that cautious. Of course, Galdrakh had countless advisers, servants, men-at-arms and general hangers-on who could be relied on to keep out eavesdroppers, whereas this fellow had... four men in hooded grey cloaks. And the horse. Don't forget the horse. It still surprised him, in a place that used four-legged transport less than just about anywhere else in the Empire, how many stables the city possessed.

He stepped around a pile of rubbish, steaming in the heat. Every time he thought he was getting used to the stench of the Warren, it slapped him in the face again, reminding him he didn't belong here. He glanced behind, confirming that his guards were still following at a discreet distance. They were dressed in the right sort of clothes, but they looked out of place, as if they'd rather be back in their barracks. They weren't the only ones.

At last, he stopped outside a wooden building that looked barely big enough for the five men, never mind the horse. The Temple of Rakeloth stood a few doors down, so he wasn't that far from where he'd started. He guessed he'd been given a deliberately roundabout route to shake off followers.

One of the guards approached - presumably their sergeant. "Do you want us to go in with you, Sir?"

He wished he could say yes, but Kerevash had insisted he come alone. Even bringing guards this far was, strictly speaking, a breach of that agreement. He shook his head. "Wait ten minutes. If I haven't come out by then, come in and rescue me."

"Yes, Sir." The sergeant turned on his heel and walked smartly to rejoin his colleagues - not quite marching, but he was plainly having trouble remembering he was supposed to be a civilian.

Galdrakh took a deep breath and lifted his fist to knock. The door looked as though it might fall off if he struck it too hard. He rapped out the agreed-upon pattern - that too, was different every time.

The door opened almost immediately. One of the hooded men stood there. Galdrakh hesitated. This was the first time he'd seen one in daylight, and he could've sworn there was nothing under the hood. The man raised an arm, motioning him to enter, and the sun glinted off a flat surface in the middle of the hood.

Idiot. It's just a black mask. He brushed past the man and into the building. The door swung shut behind him, closing with a final-sounding thud. A deep orange light, like a candle but somehow darker, came from further back in the room, suggesting its contents rather than illuminating it. He looked around for the other cloaked men, not seeing them. They had a knack of staying out of sight until they were needed. He heard nothing, not even the noises of the street. It took more courage than he thought he had not to turn and run.

"I would not harm you, Elector," came a voice from the far end of the room. It seemed to echo, as though the speaker was in a much larger space. "At least - not without good reason." The man spoke with refined precision, in a slight accent that Galdrakh couldn't place.

"Sh-Shadrakh be with you, too, Kerevash," replied Galdrakh, hating the shakiness in his voice. Was the man just a shrewd guesser, or could he really read minds? As Galdrakh's eyes adjusted to the light, he picked out the man's form. From head to foot, Kerevash was clad in metal armour, so black that it seemed darker than the shadows. Spikes projected from each joint, curved and twisted like horns. The helmet resembled an upturned bucket, with a narrow slit for the eyes. The man never removed any part of his armour, even in the height of summer when three slaves with fans hadn't been able to keep Galdrakh cool.

Kerevash's horse, almost as black as his armour, stood next to him, eyes glistening. Galdrakh had though horses were skittish creatures, prone to whinnying and neighing, but this animal was silent, and motionless but for the occasional flick of its ears or swish of its tail.

Kerevash said, "The Revenue Service will raid one of your warehouses before dawn on Kharadar's Day."

A chill stole over him. Not because of the raid - those happened almost every fortnight now, and were no more than a minor nuisance even when he didn't know about them in advance - but because of the confidence with which Kerevash spoke. He could've been talking about the sun rising tomorrow.

"Which one?" said Galdrakh.

"My informant was not able to be precise, but believes the target will be Ash-Herak or Ash-Tanabe. Kelstakh will make his final decision as close to the time as possible. Apparently he suspects one of his staff is in your pay."

"Only one?"

"Also, Pyram is bluffing about being in negotiations with another supplier. I believe that if you lower your price by perhaps five percent, he will accept."

"I'd suspected as much, but it's useful to hear it from someone else."

"I have given you something of value," said Kerevash. The orange light grew dimmer, and the room seemed to shrink. "Now it's your turn."

One of the cloaked men approached. He might've been the one who opened the door; they all looked the same. He extended a gloved hand, offering a slate. Galdrakh accepted it. The man leaned forward in an approximation of a bow, and then withdrew with a loping gait that made it hard to be sure whether he was walking forwards or backwards. He made no sound, not even the rustling of fabric.

Galdrakh squinted at the slate. The writing resembled... not exactly that of a child or a foreigner, but of someone who wasn't used to the Imperial script. The lettering was stiff, and Galdrakh wondered if the cloaked man had kept his gloves on while writing. Some of the forms looked quaint, as if the man had learned from the most ancient book he could find.

"It is a list of resources we require for the next stage," said Kerevash.

"I can see that," said Galdrakh. "Some of these things... they're not going to be easy to obtain."

"I am willing to cover any extra costs you incur."

"It's not a matter of cost. I mean, a copy of The Decrees of Emperor Valekhna? You do know he's been dead over two thousand years? And that later Emperors have amended or revoked every one of his decrees?"

"I did not summon you here to give me a history lesson, Elector. You need not concern yourself with my reasons for needing any of the items on that list."

"Well, the nearest copy of that book is probably in Akhtar. It'll take a fortnight and a half to get it, assuming my man there can persuade the owner to sell it."

"Then our plan will be delayed by a fortnight and a half."

"No!" Galdrakh took a step forward. The cloaked man moved to block his path. A second one came from the other side, faster than should have been possible. Galdrakh held up his hands and retreated, head bowed. "I mean, I'll make every effort to get it sooner." He stopped himself from clenching his fist. They shouldn't be able to order someone like him around. If anyone else dared to speak to him like that, he'd have them flogged - if they were lucky. But the results would be worth every insult - if the plan came together on time.

"Good. There is one other matter. The last batch of dust was insufficiently pure."

Galdrakh gulped. "We agreed one pound in twelve."

Kerevash didn't answer immediately. Did he wear a helmet so that his silences couldn't be interpreted? "There have been... difficulties in the refinement process."

The pause before difficulties told Galdrakh that Kerevash hadn't expected him to argue. Did he have an advantage he could press here? He tucked the slate into a pocket.

"Henceforth," said Kerevash, "the purity must be one pound in six."

"Out of the question," Galdrakh spluttered. "The priests have already caught at least four miners trying to smuggle dust onto the spoil heap. We don't need to give them any more reason to come looking for us."

"Then find more miners who can be bribed."

"Anybody who's willing to help already is. I'm paying them more than they earn in a fortnight for each pound they bring out."

"In that case, the priests will have to be persuaded to be less zealous in their inspections."

That took a moment to sink in. "Bribe a priest of Tanshalm? Are you serious?"

"Blackmail is another possibility."

"You're mad," Galdrakh whispered.

"Many have said similar things," Kerevash replied. Galdrakh thought he heard a hint of amusement. "Some men are difficult to persuade, but I have never yet encountered a man who could not be persuaded at all. Unless you raise the purity to one pound in six, our plan will not finish on time."

Galdrakh sighed. Always it came back to that. "I'll see what I can do. There might be another way. Is there anything else?"

"That is all."

"Then I'll bid you good day." As Galdrakh turned to the door, he said, "Actually, there is one other thing - my aunts are trying to get the house back."

"Why is that a problem? You said that your uncle bequeathed it to you. They have no claim on it."

"They say my uncle made a codicil to his will that leaves it to them. Some of their men might try to interfere with what you're doing there." Galdrakh wasn't sure what Kerevash was doing at the house, which suited him - the less he knew, the less he could tell the Governor-General or the other Electors, should they become curious.

"Strange that they have said nothing about it until now."

"They said they were going to hire an advocate to find it."

"Then they do not possess it."

"Yet."

"It would seem prudent to ensure that they do not come to possess this codicil."

"I have a couple of people I can give that task to," said Galdrakh.

"Good day, then."

Outside, Galdrakh blinked as his eyes adjusted to the daylight. His guards emerged from doorways and alleys and followed him as he set off home. He would need a long bath when he got there - not just to wash off the dirt and the stink of the Warren but to get rid of the feeling that Kerevash, not him, was the one running this circus. Something about the man - no, everything about the man - made his skin crawl. But he had no choice. Without Kerevash's help, Galdrakh stood no chance of becoming the next Governor-General.