Brent Weeks - The Way of Shadows (The Night Angel Trilogy)

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright 2008 by Brent Weeks

Excerpt from Shadows Edge copyright 2008 by Brent Weeks

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a data base or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

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Hachette Book Group USA

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First eBook Edition: October 2008

ISBN: 978-0-316-04022-8

Contents

A white snake slid onto the table with a thump. Kylar barely had time to register what it was before it struck at his face. He saw its mouth open, huge, fangs glittering. He was moving back, but too slowly.

Then the snake disappeared and Kylar was falling backward off the stool. He landed flat on his back but bounced up to his feet in an instant.

Blint was holding the snake behind the head. He had grabbed it out of the air while it was striking. Do you know what this is, Kylar?

Its a white asp. It was one of the most deadly snakes in the world. They rarely grew longer than a mans forearm, but those they bit died within seconds.

No, its the price of failure.

Kylar is a wonderful charactersympathetic and despicable, cowardly and courageous, honorable and unscrupulous... a breathtaking debut!

Dave Duncan, author of The Alchemists Code

BOOKS BY BRENT WEEKS

T HE N IGHT A NGEL T RILOGY

The Way of Shadows

Shadows Edge

Beyond the Shadows

For Kristi,

Confidante, companion, best friend, bride.

Theyre all for you.

A zoth squatted in the alley, cold mud squishing through his bare toes. He stared at the narrow space beneath the wall, trying to get his nerve up. The sun wouldnt come up for hours, and the tavern was empty. Most taverns in the city had dirt floors, but this part of the Warrens had been built over marshland, and not even drunks wanted to drink standing ankle-deep in mud, so the tavern had been raised a few inches on stilts and floored with stout bamboo poles.

Coins sometimes dropped through the gaps in the bamboo, and the crawlspace was too small for most people to go after them. The guilds bigs were too big and the littles were too scared to squeeze into the suffocating darkness shared with spiders and cockroaches and rats and the wicked half-wild tomcat the owner kept. Worst was the pressure of the bamboo against your back, flattening you every time a patron walked overhead. It had been Azoths favorite spot for a year, but he wasnt as small as he used to be. Last time, he got stuck and spent hours panicking until it rained and the ground softened beneath him enough that he could dig himself out.

It was muddy now, and there would be no patrons, and Azoth had seen the tomcat leave. It should be fine. Besides, Rat was collecting guild dues tomorrow, and Azoth didnt have four coppers. He didnt even have one, so there wasnt much choice. Rat wasnt understanding, and he didnt know his own strength. Littles had died from his beatings.

Pushing aside mounds of mud, Azoth lay on his stomach. The dank earth soaked his thin, filthy tunic instantly. Hed have to work fast. He was skinny, and if he caught a chill, the odds of getting better werent good.

Scooting through the darkness, he began searching for the telltale metallic gleam. A couple of lamps were still burning in the tavern, so light filtered through the gaps, illuminating the mud and standing water in strange rectangles. Heavy marsh mist climbed the shafts of light only to fall over and over again. Spider webs draped across Azoths face and broke, and he felt a tingle on the back of his neck.

He froze. No, it was his imagination. He exhaled slowly. Something glimmered and he grabbed his first copper. He slithered to the unfinished pine beam he had gotten stuck under last time and shoveled mud away until water filled the depression. The gap was still so narrow that he had to turn his head sideways to squeeze underneath it. Holding his breath and pushing his face into the slimy water, he began the slow crawl.

His head and shoulders made it through, but then a stub of a branch caught the back of his tunic, tearing the cloth and jabbing his back. He almost cried out and was instantly glad he hadnt. Through a wide space between bamboo poles, Azoth saw a man seated at the bar, still drinking. In the Warrens, you had to judge people quickly. Even if you had quick hands like Azoth did, when you stole every day, you were bound to get caught eventually. All merchants hit the guild rats who stole from them. If they wanted to have any goods left to sell, they had to. The trick was picking the ones whod smack you so you didnt try their booth next time; there were others whod beat you so badly you never had a next time. Azoth thought he saw something kind and sad and lonely in this lanky figure. He was perhaps thirty, with a scraggly blond beard and a huge sword on his hip.

How could you abandon me? the man whispered so quietly Azoth could barely distinguish the words. He held a flagon in his left hand and cradled something Azoth couldnt see in his right. After all the years Ive served you, how could you abandon me now? Is it because of Vonda?

There was an itch on Azoths calf. He ignored it. It was just his imagination again. He reached behind his back to free his tunic. He needed to find his coins and get out of here.

Something heavy dropped onto the floor above Azoth and slammed his face into the water, driving the breath from his lungs. He gasped and nearly inhaled water.

Why Durzo Blint, you never fail to surprise, the weight above Azoth said. Nothing was visible of the man through the gaps except a drawn dagger. He must have dropped from the rafters. Hey, Im all for calling a bluff, but you should have seen Vonda when she figured out you werent going to save her. Made me damn near bawl my eyes out.

The lanky man turned. His voice was slow, broken. I killed six men tonight. Are you sure you want to make it seven?

Azoth slowly caught up with what theyd been saying. The lanky man was the wetboy Durzo Blint. A wetboy was like an assassinin the way a tiger is like a kitten. Among wetboys, Durzo Blint was indisputably the best. Or, as the head of Azoths guild said, at least the disputes didnt last long. And I thought Durzo Blint looked kind?

The itch on Azoths calf itched again. It wasnt his imagination. There was something crawling up the inside of his trousers. It felt big, but not as big as a cockroach. Azoths fear identified the weight: a white wolf spider. Its poison liquefied flesh in a slowly spreading circle. If it bit, even with a healer the best an adult could hope for was to lose a limb. A guild rat wouldnt be so lucky.

Blint, youll be lucky if you dont cut your head off after all youve been drinking. Just in the time Ive been watching, youve had

Eight flagons. And I had four before that.

Azoth didnt move. If he jerked his legs together to kill the spider, the water would splash and the men would know he was there. Even if Durzo Blint had looked kind, that was an awful big sword, and Azoth knew better than to trust grown-ups.

Youre bluffing, the man said, but there was fear in his voice.

I dont bluff, Durzo Blint said. Why dont you invite your friends in?

The spider crawled up to Azoths inner thigh. Trembling, he pulled his tunic up in back and stretched the waist of his trousers, making a gap and praying the spider would crawl for it.