Book Review | Traitor's Blade by Sebastien de Castell

The King is dead, the Greatcoats have been disbanded, and Falcio Val Mond and his fellow magistrates Kest and Brasti have been reduced to working as bodyguards for a nobleman who refuses to pay them. Things could be worse, of course. Their employer could be lying dead on the floor while they are forced to watch the killer plant evidence framing them for the murder. Oh wait, that’s exactly what’s happening...

Now a royal conspiracy is about to unfold in the most corrupt city in the world. A carefully orchestrated series of murders that began with the overthrow of an idealistic young king will end with the death of an orphaned girl and the ruin of everything that Falcio, Kest, and Brasti have fought for. But if the trio want to foil the conspiracy, save the girl, and reunite the Greatcoats, they’ll have to do it with nothing but the tattered coats on their backs and the swords in their hands, because these days every noble is a tyrant, every knight is a thug, and the only thing you can really trust is a traitor’s blade.

***

A great blade has to be sharp, sure, but it needs a bit of weight as well—heft enough to fend off the weapons of enemies. You don't want your hardware to be too heavy, however: it needs to be perfectly balanced between point and pommel. In addition, a good grip is worth investing in, because if you can't hold onto your sword properly, what's the point of wearing one, I wonder?

Once you can be assured that your weapon attends to the necessaries aforementioned, there are a few other things worth considering. For starters, size certainly matters... which isn't to say bigger is always better. In some situations, a small sword—say a rapier—is markedly more suitable than a sabre. The accessibility of your blade is also important; you probably want to have it handy. Last but not least, I dare say a little decoration goes a long way, so long as it's tasteful.

These are all qualities Sebastien de Castell hones to a piercing point over the course of his swashbuckling first fantasy. Like the sword its disgraced protagonist carries, Traitor's Blade is short and sharp and smart, and very well wielded, really.

Our man is Falcio val Mond, the First Cantor of the Greatcoats: an elite legion once held in high regard as "legendary sword-wielding magistrates who travelled from the lowliest village to the biggest city, ensuring that any man or woman, high or low, had recourse to the King's laws." (p.1) In the years since he took up the titular trench in a fit of fury following the butchering of his beloved, Falcio been seen as "a protector to many—maybe even a hero to some," (p.1) but everything's different when Traitor's Blade begins.

Book Review | The Twyning by Terence Blacker

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This is the story of Efren, a young ratling born into the Court of Tasting, in the kingdom of rats below the city streets. The kingdom is in turmoil after the death of the old king, assassinated by a human scientist, Dr Henry Ross-Gibbon. Obsessed by an ambition to exterminate all rats, the doctor is assisted by Dogboy, an abandoned thirteen-year-old with a gift for understanding animals. Soon a war to the death rages between the rat kingdom and its mortal enemy: humankind.

Hurt and alone, Efren finds shelter with Dogboy and his friend Caz, a runaway eleven-year-old girl. And between these unlikely allies, a spark is ignited — first of communication, then of hope.

This tumultuous story of creatures caught up in a pitiless war transcends the barriers between animals and humans. What Watership Down did for rabbits, The Twyning will do for the kingdom of rats.

***

Riddle me this, readers: what sees you when you're sleeping? What knows when you're awake? What's never more than six feet away, and sometimes carries plague?

That's right! I'm talking about rats. Dirty rotten rodents in the eyes of most folks. But not Terence Blacker's, apparently. His new novel promises to do for these creeping creatures what Watership Down did for rabbit warrens the world over... or else, that's what the publicity suggests. I'd like to suggest an alternative, because to me, The Twyning read more like Redwall with rats. Or rather Redwall with more rats.

There are, however, humans in The Twyning too. Caz and Dogboy are forgotten orphans (complete with horrible histories) who live together in a tip. To pay for the pies they need to stay alive, the caregiver of the pair does odd jobs for an affable rat-catcher, as well as a superior scientist who has made the beasts of the underworld his life's work. Whilst still peripheral, Dogboy's Dickensian adventures - in an ageless English setting, no less - intersect with our actual protagonist's narrative in a more meaningful way, I dare say, than the distractions that come courtesy of Caz.

If not one or the other, then, who is our hero? Well... it gives me great pleasure to introduce you to Efren, of the kingdom beneath our feet:

"A young apprentice whose past was a mystery, whose future was uncertain but whose present was always trouble. [Efren] was too undisciplined to be a taster, too small to be a warrior, too restless to work in the dustier Courts of History, Translation, Strategy or Prophecy. He was something of an outsider even among the other rats of his age. 

"It was said that his father had escaped from a prison in the world above. Certainly the dash of white between his ears, like the crest of a bird, suggested that some rogue blood, a hint of fragility, ran through his veins. 

"Yet there was nothing fearful or weak about this apprentice. He had the oddity of a fragile but none of its dependence on other rats." (p.6)

Never mind the foolish humans: Efren is this novel's real draw. He's a courageous little rodent who dares to doubt the doublethink of his fearless new leader. Having essentially seized control of the kingdom, Jeniel immediately implements a rather Orwellian regime change, beginning with the word:

"Certain words had entered everyday discussions, having first been heard in the speeches of Queen Jeniel. When spoken by the Queen, they had seemed casual. Then those who were close to her at court began to use them. After a while they had become a useful way of displaying loyalty to the new regime, of showing that you were acceptable in the new kingdom. 

"'Unvigilant', 'security', 'emergency', 'modern', 'safety from fear', 're-education', 'race loyalty': I knew what these phrases meant — or rather what they should mean. Now, though, I saw they had another meaning. They were a secret code among those who belonged at court. 

"Those who used them possessed race loyalty. 

"Those who did not were being unvigilant. 

"The few who were foolish enough to ask questions were almost certainly in urgent need of re-education."(p.128)

Thus, the court considers Efren a terrorist, and disowns him for his disobedience. Freed in this fashion from his former responsibilities, he escapes to the world above, to find true love in the form of a fragile — a pet rat, per The Twyning's terminology. But before the troubled couple can consecrate their relationship, Malaika - who has taken up with Caz, as it happens - Malaika alerts Efren to the greatest threat the kingdom has ever faced: a city-wide rat hunt, masterminded by Dogboy's ambitious employers.

With this knowledge comes a choice: before it's too late for all involved, the outsider Efren must decide where his loyalties lie. Should he save the kingdom, corrupt as it has become? Or let his friends perish alongside his enemies?

The Twyning rattles along these exciting lines for perhaps its first half, and there are several such moments in the final section as well. Sadly, the bloated middle of Blacker's book - that part of the entire which relies on the humans instead of Efren - is substantially less successful. One chance meeting follows another, and another, until what credibility the author has earned is soon spent; The Twyning begins to seem contrived, and I fear this feeling persists even after the intermediate act.

Furthermore, a few story beats feel forced, several characters fall flat, and Blacker's decision to alternate between the past and the present tense serves no particular purpose. Meanwhile, the horrendous sense of hysteria so powerfully evoked through the opening is disappointingly defused; it is all but abandoned, in fact, in favour of a far less impactful narrative.

Given all this, it's safe to say mistakes were made. But you know what? I still had a fine time with The Twyning. Indeed, Blacker succeeds more often than not. His worldbuilding is brilliant; his prose is mostly potent; his set-pieces are tortuously tense; and though it revolves around one of the animal kingdom's least appealing species, on the whole his story is surprisingly charming. Some of the concepts underpinning it are simply superb, not least the titular twyning — a mistake of nature, sustained as a symbol:

"Their tails had become inextricably entangled. As they had grown, the knot of living tissue that was at their centre melded and fused together so that, with adulthood, each of them was less an individual rat than a limb on a greater shared body, a spoke on a wheel of flesh. 

[...] 

"The Twyning expresses life's mystery. Unable to move in any one direction except at an awkward, complicated shuffle, it has its own kind of strength, for nothing terrifies a human more than the sight of rats, helpless, bound together, yet powerful." (pp.5-6)

So. Will The Twyning single-handedly render rats as attractive as rabbits? I think not, no... though the animals Richard Adams leveraged in his classic narrative certainly had something of a head start in that regard. These rodents simply can't compete. But put aside cuteness, and you'll find theirs is yet a darn charming yarn.

...

This review was originally published, in a slightly altered form, on Tor.com.

***

The Twyning
by Terence Blacker

UK Publication: January 2013, Head of Zeus

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Book Review | Scourge of the Betrayer by Jeff Salyards

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Many tales are told of the Syldoon Empire and its fearsome soldiers, who are known throughout the world for their treachery and atrocities. Some say that the Syldoon eat virgins and babies-or perhaps their own mothers. Arkamondos, a bookish young scribe, suspects that the Syldoon's dire reputation may have grown in the retelling, but he's about to find out for himself.

Hired to chronicle the exploits of a band of rugged Syldoon warriors, Arki finds himself both frightened and fascinated by the men's enigmatic leader, Captain Braylar Killcoin. A secretive, mercurial figure haunted by the memories of those he's killed with his deadly flail, Braylar has already disposed of at least one impertinent scribe... and Arki might be next. Archiving the mundane doings of millers and merchants was tedious, but at least it was safe.

As Arki heads off on a mysterious mission into parts unknown, in the company of the coarse, bloody-minded Syldoon, he is promised a chance to finally record an historic adventure well worth the telling, but first he must survive the experience! A gripping military fantasy in the tradition of Glen Cook, Scourge of the Betrayer explores the brutal politics of Empire — and the searing impact of violence and dark magic on a man's soul. 

***

"All empires crumble. All borders change. All kingdoms die. Where I'm taking you, you'll witness the death of a body politic, the expiration of a way of life, the redrawing of a map. Something singular and priceless. So put away your bleak looks and let's eat some of Hobbins' slop."

Well, since you promise so much, Captain Killcoin, and put it so... so perfectly pointedly — alright. Let's.

Scourge of the Betrayer is a lot like that, in fact. That is to say promising, and remarkably well put, specifically but not solely because it comes from a first-time author. I don't know that it makes for an especially satisfying experience on its own, but in some senses it's a great success nevertheless: for one thing, Scourge of the Betrayer serves to lay the foundation for a potentially fascinating fantasy narrative that could straddle the chasm between The First Law and The Lies of Locke Lamora... but never mind that. My main takeaway was that Jeff Salyards is one to watch. Like a hawk. Or perhaps a chronicler.

Such as Arkamondos, say. Arki for short — though most folks wholly ignore him, so the needfulness of this particular diminutive is debatable at best. In any case, Arki is a unremarkable scribe lacking almost all of the qualities one expects from a fantasy protagonist; he's basically a blank slate upon which his clients can chisel out their exploits. At the outset of Scourge of the Betrayer, he's hired by the leader of a band of fearsome Syldoon soldiers to tell the tale of their guerrilla revolution from the ground on up, beginning with a bawdy barroom brawl and a couple thwarted conquests.

"The Syldoon really did seem to have an unhealthy fixation on all things whorish. Their breed of camaraderie was crude, course, callous, and whatever other alliterative pejorative I could summon. Cruel? Perhaps. But there was another quality there as well. Or lack of one. There was no preening or pretension at the table. Their rough humour made no excuses for itself."

Which, for a while, is all well and good - and another in a long line of examples of Salyard's observational, conversational flair - but Scourge of the Betrayer goes on and on along these lines, beating around the proverbial bush for much too long, such that it feels a far cry from what Arki (and I) had imagined of this supposedly epic adventure. Truth be told, the latest of Night Shade's new voices takes such an age to get his house in order that halfway through the whole, I was ready to dismiss this debut as a trifle — which is to say delicious, yes, but not exactly nutritious.

Thankfully, Scourge of the Betrayer isn't all empty calories. There are rumblings of intrigue in the second act, and in the third, when our company arrives at Alespell, some sustained action, at last!

In the interim, a couple of characters start to stand out from the crowd. And indeed, it's quite the crowd: alongside Akri and Captain Killcoin - Braylar to his mates - count Mulldoos, Hewspear, Lloi, Tomner, Vendurro, Glesswik, and I don't know how many others. Of the lot, Lloi - a flea-bitten outcast from the darkly magical Memoridons, with half a hand and a winningly dismissive way about her - Lloi surely steals the show, but Braylar is interesting from the get-go, and Arki, ever easy-does-it, gets there eventually.

So Salyard's character-building is strong. World-building, however, doesn't seem to be his bag. Excepting one wagon and Three Casks - that is, the inn where Scourge of the Betrayer kicks off, or should do - the only setting we get a sense of is Alespell... and even then.

I can't help but think a better idea of place and space would have added depth and texture to a narrative in need of some firmer foundation, but of course, world-building isn't a requirement, it's a choice. And Salyards is smart enough to make a running joke of his: Arki is desperate to take in some local colour by way of the celebrations raging in Alespell, but Braylar keeps delaying his day at the fair. "Don't fear," he soothes. "You shall have your opportunity to explore [..] in due time, but not just yet."

Maybe next time! I certainly hope so. And understand this: despite my initial issues, I'll be sticking with this series, because by the end, the pieces are finally in place. Never mind that they aren't necessarily the pieces you'd expected to see — that's half the fun. Scourge of the Betrayer may promise great gravitas, but what it delivers is insidiousness, in quantity and quality. As Arki observes, "There was nothing large or grand about the things happening here. They were small and shadowy, punitive and bloody."

Ultimately, Scourge of the Betrayer seems to be going nowhere, and slowly, for far too long for me to recommend it without certain related reservations, but it makes up a lot of lost ground in its non-stop last act, and in the interim, Salyard's witty, wanton dialogue-driven narrative is entertaining enough - just - to keep one's interest from flagging. Considering how much better Scourge of the Betrayer gets as it goes on, Bloodsounder's Arc stands to go from strength to strength as a series.

I need not add that I'll be keeping a close eye on Jeff Salyards from here on out. If you're at all interested in low fantasy à la Cook and Abercrombie, you would be well advised to do likewise.

***

Scourge of the Betrayer
by Jeff Salyards

US Publication: May 2012, Night Shade Books

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Book Review | Among Thieves by Douglas Hulick

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Drothe is a Nose, an informant who finds and takes care of trouble inside the criminal organization he’s a part of. He also smuggles imperial relics on the side.

When his boss sends him to Ten Ways to track down who’s been leaning on his organization’s people, Drothe discovers hints of a much bigger mystery. Someone is trying to stir up trouble between lower-level criminal organizations, including the one Drothe belongs to. And there’s a book rumored to contain imperial glimmer (or magic) that a lot of very dangerous people seem to be looking for - including two crime bosses known as the Gray Princes.

When Drothe discovers the book, he finds himself holding a bit of swag that can bring down emperors, shatter the criminal underworld, and unlock forbidden magic... that's if he can survive long enough to use it.

***

I'm sorry, but I'm sick and tired of hearing how Douglas Hulick is essentially the second coming of Scott Lynch. I've had it up to here with all the talk about the former author's Among Thieves being the equal of The Lies of Locke Lamora by the latter. At this stage, truth be told, I'm not entirely convinced that even The Lies of Locke Lamora is the equal of The Lies of Locke Lamora, as some seem determined to remember it.

There are certain skin-deep similarities between the two books, sure, beginning with an interest in underbellies... in what lies beneath the great kingdoms of coin and spice we fantasy fans have become inured to; the backstabbing and betrayals of trust that come part and parcel with people, if you put enough of them together in a single space. In Among Thieves, the city is Ildrecca, where crimes both petty and perverse are the order of the day. And of course, all high and mighty, the empire turns a blind eye to this endless in-fighting, as if to say: ignore it long enough and it's bound to go away.

Not so much, as it happens.

The only other aspect of Hulick's debut which bears more than a passing resemblance to The Gentlemen Bastards books is in the one-two punch of its central characters, and to be fair, Drothe and Degan are rather too much of a muchness with Locke and Jean. Our narrator Drothe is the brains behind the operation, and Degan is the brawn behind Drothe. One does the thinking and the other does the fighting. But let's be honest: these are archetypes that can be traced back far further than the fiction of Scott Lynch. And archetypes become thus for a reason, insofar as they make for exceedingly convenient narrative devices.

Anyway, that's the last I'll say about The Lies of Locke Lamora. I suppose there are certain similarities between it and this, but they are at most superficial similarities, and once Among Thieves gets going, Hulick comes out from under the shadow of Scott Lynch, and there he stays, in a spotlight he need not share.

The thing of it is, Among Thieves takes altogether too long to get going. Initially, all the fantasy jargon the author sees fit to throw back and forth can feel more than slightly overwhelming, and though we enter the fray mid-thrust, the actual action's over all too soon, segueing into several chapters of thinly-veiled exposition, during which time there is nothing for the reader to do but come to terms with this world, or attempt to.

Eventually, however, Hulick finds good footing, and his debut resolves into a witty, refreshing romp with several outstanding aspects. In Ildrecca a fantasy kingdom more low than high takes shape, and Drothe and Degan, as well as several of their associates - and the villians in this novel roundly outnumber the heroes, such as they are - develop beyond the cardboard archetypes they began literary life as. Winningly, though everyone assumes he's got his head screwed on perfectly well, Drothe is actually a bit rubbish at stuff:

To them, I must have seemed one step ahead, always turning up or slipping away at the worst possible time, when in reality I was stumbling from one clue to another without knowing it. (p.263)

His numbers don't add up, he jumps to the wrong conclusion more often than chance has him happen upon the right one, and in a fight he'd be hopeless were it not for Degan, who has sworn a sacred oath to stand by his side. That said, Drothe still contrives to get the crap kicked out of him in every other chapter.

And then the plot kicks in. It gets complicated quickly:

What had started separately as a cleanup job and a hunt for a missing relic had become a twisted mass involving my sister, assassins, Grey Princes, a Kin war, White Sashes, and now, apparently, a long-dead Paragon and her notes on Imperial magic. (p.237)

By this stage, though, all the jargon has come to mean something. I'd have sooner had this knowledge imparted to me in a more measured manner, but at the end of the day, the result's the same: a real sense that there's more to Ildrecca than meets the eye. That there are more angles on these dirty dealings than just Drothe's. He's caught in the middle of it all right, but this world does not revolve around Drothe at all.

There are some other neat touches, too. I have a real weakness for all things Chris Nolan, and inasmuch as our man is starved of sleep and popping pill-equivalents the whole time, there's an excellent Insomnia-esque element to Among Thieves. At his wit's end as the narrative progresses, Drothe starts losing track of time, making bad decisions simply to have made some decisions; becoming, in short, exponentially less and less reliable as a man, never mind as a narrator.

I sighed and rubbed at the stubble on my face. How many days since Moriarty's? Since Cristiana's? They were all blurring together, along with my thoughts. I blinked, slapped my face, and slipped two seeds. No help. (p.272)

Hulick, I think, could have done more with this, but what there is of it is terrific.

Short a slow start, then, and a bit of wishy-washiness in the calm before the inevitable storm with which it concludes, Among Thieves is smart, character-driven fantasy. A walk on the wild side with more than its fair share of fun and action and intrigue. There are sword-fights galore, everyone betrays everyone else. All in all, Among Thieves delivers exactly what one wants from a story along these low lines: good times and grand larceny by one of the year's most promising new voices.

***

Among Thieves

by Douglas Hulick

UK Publication: April 2011, Tor

US Publication: April 2011, Roc

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Coming Back to Comic Books | The Coming of Conan

I've lost track of how many times folks have told me to give Robert E. Howard a shot. Why I haven't yet, it's hard to say.

Actually, no - I suppose it's not so hard. Just embarassing, in an odd sense: because I haven't read the Conan stories for the same reason I haven't read A Game of Thrones... for the same reason I haven't progressed any with The Malazan Book of the Fallen since reading and needless to say adoring Gardens of the Moon while on holiday a while back. Much as I would like to spend a week or a month or even a year catching up on all the classics and sagas I have every reason to believe I'd love... that moment when the postman comes, and in his sack he has an early copy of some new release I've been looking forward to -- that still excites me. Damn it all, I can hardly help myself. I'm practically powerless at the prospect of the new.

Maybe it's finally come time to admit I have a problem.

But not today! In fact, while we're talking about powerlessness, and problems - oh I do enjoy a good segue - what with my computer out for the count last week, and my opportunities to blog thus reduced, I finally read some Conan.

That is to say, some Conan... comic books.

Had you going for a minute there, didn't I? :)

In all seriousness, however hard it can be to square away enough time to read one dusty tome or another, the first collection of Dark Horse's revitalised Conan comic book has only redoubled my enthusiasm to dig out the original stories by Robert E. Howard, and dig in -- if only to see if I enjoy them half as much as I did The Frost Giant's Daughter and Other Stories.

For obvious reasons, I cannot speak to how faithful this series is to the canon of Conan, such as it is... though I am given to understand that this first ongoing at least - as opposed to the two which have succeeded it: Conan the Cimmerian and the current Road of Kings - takes the majority of its cues from Howard's work. Certainly a healthy amount of respect for the source material - indeed the source of the source material - is evidenced. All exposition, for instance, is rendered in typewriter-esque lettering, and one need look no further than the newspaper-style strips featured at the rearmost of each individual issue. The Adventures of Two-Gun Bob are insightful adaptations of episodes in the life and times of Robert E. Howard, rather than the low fantasy of his foremost creation.

But what of the comic proper?

Well, judging solely on the basis of The Frost Giant's Daughter and Other Stories, which for the larger part chronicles everyone's favourite Cimmerian's imprisonment in the creepy dream kingdom of Hyperborea... Conan is fracking fantastic!

Having trawled through the related Wikipedia pages since, I know that the only Robert E. Howard story retold in this first Dark Horse collection - though other details were lifted from here and fleshed out there - is the titular one; of the Frost Giant's alluring wee lass, and her habit of leading horny warriors into the maw of her monstrous father, like lambs to the slaughter. Conan is himself seduced by this wicked but beautiful creature -- though of course the beast at the end of the long journey she leads him on is surprised to find our once and future King more than a match.

Now the tall tale of "The Frost Giant's Daughter" is certainly a fine one, but I'll be honest: I didn't find it particularly representative of the finest this collection has to offer -- more a neat diversion on the red-brick road to Hyperboria. In fact, I couldn't tell when Howard's Conan ended and Kurt Busiek's began, and that's testament not only to my aforementioned ignorance, but also to Busiek's tremendous wordsmithing. Whatever my myriad other failings, I have read most (if not all) of Astro City, and I wouldn't have pegged that and this as the work of the same author in a million years, had I not known it to be the case.

Cary Nord, meanwhile, is as ideal an artist to give life to Conan and his kin - and all the lands they live and breathe in - as any I can think of. I hadn't come across his pencils before now, and though there's a loose quality to them I could live without, I'm be looking out for them from here on out. Together with Thomas Yeates on inking duty and a wash of gorgeous colours from Dave Stewart, Nord's art evinces a painterly quality utterly on-point, brilliantly capturing the fantastic landscapes of Cimmeria and its surrounds -- as well as Conan himself, and those unlucky souls whose path he crosses. Nord seems pretty much made for this book, all told.

It'll be a relief, I imagine, to hear the artists are also dab hands at action scenes. It's as well, I guess... but in truth, much of what I love about The Frost Giant's Daughter and Other Stories is that it is resolutely not - as I expected - just fight after fight after fight, with perhaps a breast here and there, or some gore, to break up all the swordplay.

There's heart to these tales, in the words and the art. Moreover, there's real character, and whether that's thanks to Robert E. Howard or the creative team behind Dark Horse's first Conan comic, I haven't the slightest. Nor am I much fussed exactly where Conan's essential spark comes from. It's here, in this series, and that's enough -- at least it is for this returning, and ever more-bolstered admirer of sequential art.

Saying that, I might just have to muscle in some quality time with my copy of The Complete Conan before delving into the second volume of this excellent series...