*Book 1 of "The Heim Texts"*
A High Fantasy novel.
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A Casteless magus who is much more than she thinks she is.
A King.
A Queen.
A banished prince.
A rebel.
The Third Quenching is near. The Holder might consum...
A chant went up amongst the burnoosed men, as though they had sensed her thoughts. A nonsense chant of “Trust the sled! Trust the sled! Trust the sled!”
These chants, or at least remnants of their noise, followed them all the way to their destination, which was the giant Khannar Shmeg likeness half a mile off Ford Gdrag’nar. The craftsmanship of the statue had to be appreciated, even by someone like Addie who knew not the first thing about craftsmanship. Khannar Shmeg looked stubborn as the tales did tell, and proud, with wisdom beaten into every hair. The white stone his idol was made out of seemed to glow from within. More impressive and imposing than even the Inner Terdam wall of Rivate.
They kept their necks craned upwards to admire the thing before Gryphik asked Maihui, who further asked another smuggler, who passed the question to Edgaar: “Where are the buyers?”
To which Edgaar loudly replied, “They will come.”
They did indeed come, not a hundred beats from then. “They” being a host of armed, armored men on proud orrocks, with a sage-green flag carried between them. A flag bearing the sigil of a flat, impractical weapon with a pointy end, sketching a trail of blood – almost like a large quill leaking red ink.
Addie recognized this as the same flag that had been waved earlier at them from the lighthouse.
The sigil she knew belonged to the Highlord Commander, Cossva Garnif, of Baendol.
“Fuck me with a thousand cunts,” Doin swore. “Our customer is the second most powerful man on Heim?”
“They’re a pacifist people, you said,” Addie muttered. “Let’s hope they go easy on us when we tell them what our drug does.”
The knight at the front hopped off his orrock. Edgaar stepped forward confidently and extended his hand.
“Nice to finally meet you in person, ser,” said the smuggler to the knight.
Addie had to commend the man’s air of credence. He gave off the vibes of a harmless, trustworthy diplomat. No one would have been able to tell on the ship he had cursed worse than sailors at the smallest wetness that got to his bone.
The knight took Edgaar’s hand, then surprised them all by collecting the man into a hug. “It is indeed nice,” said the knight in a hideously rich accent. “Our apologies for not being there to welcome you at the docks; it is simply uncustomary here in Baendol to greet a guest so close to Frunota’s territory.”
“That apology is as unneeded as it is humbly accepted,” said Edgaar.
The knight regarded the other eleven strangers on mules. “This is an unusually large party for men in our line of business.” He surveyed Addie, as she surveyed his odd armor – it seemed to be wooden, only painted to look like metal. “And women,” he added considerately. “You would do well to be a little more . . . discreet.”
Edgaar lowered his voice so only the knight would be able to hear him – but Addie kept her ears as whetted as her blades – or perhaps, now that she thought on it, it could be part of her Tester mageic she had always harnessed without knowing – and she heard some of what was said.
“. . . keeps the package distributed. Less loss if one of us gets mugged.”
The knight nodded. “Come. This is no place to do business.”
He mounted his orrock gracefully enough for a man wearing an armor of wood. The host turned and started. The smugglers and mages followed.
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