The Thief Who Pulled on Trouble's Braids (Amra Thetys, #1)

by Michael McClung

“I See blood, and gold,” she said, her voice gone all hollow. “I Hear a mournful howl. Fire and Death are on your trail, girl, and behind them the Eightfold Bitch makes her way to your door. One of Her Blades has noticed you. But will it find your hand, or your heart? Unclear, uncertain....”

Ultimately, I think, the kind of power a mage dealt with on a daily basis pushed him, eventually, beyond mundane considerations such as right and wrong. He tended to think more along the lines of 'possible' and 'impossible', and the 'impossible' list was a lot shorter for a mage than it was for you or me.

I remembered the laughter and the amused squabbling that floated up from the kitchen table as I’d come down the stairs. And I realized there was a hole in my life, a place where a family was supposed to fit. Like a missing tooth. Or a severed limb.

Everyone was meat here. It was just a question of how tough the meat might be, whether it was worth the bother of bringing it down and chewing it up.

“I say you talk too much.” “So be it,” said Bosch, and another inferno burst forth from his open hands, engulfing Holgren in a maelstrom of flame. I could barely make out his form, a dark, wavering blur at the heart of a torrent of fire. I saw his smudged silhouette crumple. I saw Bosch grin, beads of sweat rolling down his face, dripping from his nose and unshaven chin. The men with him stood watching, most with mouths agape. A mage’s duel isn’t something you see every day. Finally, the river of fire sputtered, slowed to a trickle, failed. It was eerily silent. Holgren was down on one knee. His clothes smoked, but his lean face was cold. “My turn,” he said, and flicked the fingers of one hand. Bosch’s body literally exploded, splattering his swordsmen and twenty yards of the cobbled street with blood and bloody gobbets of flesh. All that was left of him was his head, which fell to the ground and, I swear to Kerf, blinked for a few seconds. My stomach did a backflip at that.

Abanon wields the Blade that Whispers Hate, Moranos holds the Dagger of Desire, Ninkashi grips the trembling Blade of Rage, With which she pierced the heart of her mad sire. Heletia grips the Knife called Winter’s Tooth, Visini wields the Blade that Binds and Blinds, Husth fights with the Kris that Strikes Elsewhere, And woe betide the soul it finally finds. Kalara hones the Knife that Parts the Night, Grim Xith commands the Dirk that Harrows Souls; Eight blades the Goddess has, and one From eight will ren—