“As simple as that then,” Tash said. She got up to look out of the window too. It was a clear night, many stars in the sky. The fires of the Brigantine army were burning brightly, like stars on the earth. She said, “You know, these windows are very narrow and very high. No one can get in through them, even if they had ropes to scale the walls. But we can’t escape through them either. If this tower was attacked, we’d be trapped.”
Tanya butted in. “Will you shut up? We’re not being attacked. The princess explained that. The Brigantine army would have to fight all the way through Rossarb before it reached the castle.”
“Unless they scaled the castle walls from the river,” Tash said. “Isn’t that what you said they did in Tornia?”
Catherine froze. “They did.”
“And wasn’t that castle supposed to be impregnable too?”
No one replied.
Tash muttered, “It must be about midnight. I bet your father’s not one for waiting much past deadlines.”
“Waiting for the deadline will be agony for him,” the princess replied.
It was a moment later that shouts came from below.
Tanya and Catherine looked at one another and then out of the window, but they could see little in the dark.
Geratan rushed in. “The Brigantine army has breached the town walls and set fire to the buildings. And others have somehow found their way inside the castle walls too. They’ve killed Lord Reddrian. Ambrose says you must stay here with the door locked. He and the rest of your men are going through the castle searching for the assassins. Baranon and I will remain here with you.”
“And Prince Tzsayn?”
“He’s fighting on the town walls.”
“And how is that fight going?”
Geratan hesitated. “Your Highness, we must be prepared . . . I mean . . .”
“Shits!” cursed Tash. “We’re all going to end up with our heads on poles.” She paced around the room looking through each window, but eventually she went to sit with the others.
They were mainly silent, listening to the distant sounds of fighting.
Geratan said, “There’s a lot of waiting in war. Waiting and bad food.”
“And a lot of dead men,” Tash added.
Geratan shot her a look, so she got up again and went over to the window.
The fires in the Brigantine camp were as clear as before and the stars as bright, but now there was also a flickering yellow light, much closer and from below.
Tash said quietly, “I think the castle is on fire.”
Geratan swore under his breath and ran to the window as a billow of smoke rose past.
“We need to leave, Your Highness.”
Tash picked up her bundle and was ready to go. Geratan led the way. Catherine, Tanya, and Tash followed, with the other guard, Baranon, bringing up the rear. As they descended the stairs, the smoke became thicker and flames came from one room they passed. At the bottom, Tash could see the doorway that led to the courtyard, but before they could reach it Tanya screamed as a man in black ran out of the smoke with a knife. Geratan grappled with him and they slammed together into the wall.
Tash pushed Tanya, saying, “Go! Get past them!” And she took the princess by her wrist and pulled her out into the courtyard. Tash looked back and saw Baranon slit the attacker’s throat with his dagger. It wasn’t like killing a demon. Blood spurted out, covering Baranon, and the man didn’t scream but choked and grabbed at his neck.
The courtyard was dark and smoky and it was hard to work out what was happening. The fire was spreading fast. If Gravell was still locked in the cells, he’d die. Tash had to get him out. She set off for the cells but was immediately grabbed by a strong arm round her shoulders, lifting her off the ground. She kicked out and struggled.
“Calm yourself,” Rafyon said, and set her down. “Stay with the group, miss. It’s safer together.”
“But Gravell’s not in the group; he’s in the cells. I’m going to get him out.”
She squirmed free and hared off through the smoke and swirling sparks. Rafyon shouted some orders and Geratan and Baranon followed her as she ran down the steps.
There was no sign of the jailer—bloody coward would have fled at the first sign of trouble—but the keys to the cells hung on a wooden peg in his room.
“Come back, Tash!” Geratan shouted. But Tash had already snatched up the keys and run to Gravell’s cell. He was at the door as she opened it. Tash grabbed his hand and pulled him into the corridor. She threw the keys to Geratan and said, “You can deal with the others. We’ll see you outside.”
She ran back to the courtyard, Gravell behind her.
“Shits!” Gravell said as they got outside.
The fire had gotten worse. Ambrose and Rafyon were standing over bodies at the entrance to the castle. Tash and Gravell joined the princess in a group of white-haired men and among them she saw Edyon and March, who seemed completely recovered from his injuries.
“Rossarb is lost,” gasped Ambrose as he ran up to them. “The Brigantines have broken through the western barricade. We’re cut off from the prince. We have to find a way out ourselves.”
“What do we do?” Tash asked Gravell.
“Stay with everyone else until we’re safely out of this mess,” Gravell replied. “Then find our way up to the plateau. The Brigantines won’t follow us there.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” muttered Tash.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, they’ve come for the demon smoke. That’s why they’re here.”
Gravell shook his head. “That makes no sense.”
“Sense or not, that’s what’s happening.”
And then they were off and running, out of the castle and into the streets. Tash and Gravell stayed near the front, close to Rafyon, who seemed to know the side roads well. They headed southeast and had almost reached the town wall when they spotted a group of Brigantine soldiers ahead. Rafyon drew his sword but turned his head and shouted, “Not this way. Go back. Go back!”
The Brigantines moved toward them slowly, one man throwing a spear that sailed over Tash’s head. There was a scream from behind her. More spears were launched, landing in the people behind her. The screams and shouts were frantic and Tash was pushed forward to the Brigantines. “No,” she yelled. “Go back. Go back!”
But there were too many people in the narrow alley. Tash looked for another way out, or even up, but there was nothing. One of the Brigantines ran forward, his spear leveled at her throat. Tash had nowhere to go. She was trapped between soldiers on either side. Everyone was trapped. Then she felt Gravell’s hands on her shoulders, turning her, and somehow she knew what he was doing.
She screamed, “No!” but he was too strong, curling his body round her like a shield as the spear point pierced his side.
Gravell grunted and staggered. The spear was embedded deep in his chest. With one pawlike hand, he grabbed the Brigantine soldier by the neck and snapped it with a wrenching twist, hurling the body back and scattering the rest of the Brigantines. Now the crowd behind him began to move, but too late.
Gravell fell to his knees and Tash put her hands to his face. “No, no, no!”
He looked at Tash and said, “Run, missy. Run!”
“No!” screamed Tash. “Get up!” And she tried to pull him to his feet.
“You can’t move me, missy. You go.”
There was fighting all around her now, but Tash didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything but Gravell. But what could she do? She clung on to his jacket and put her mouth to his ear, telling him, “I’m not going without you. I’m not going anywhere without you.”
“Just don’t go back to that fat pie seller in Dornan. You’re better than that.”
Tash shook her head, tears pouring down her cheeks. “I’m working w
ith you. Always.”
“Good girl,” said Gravell, and he closed his eyes and his body slumped sideways.
Tash stood, disbelieving. And then arms grabbed her again and lifted her up and away from Gravell, and all her kicking and screaming was no use at all.
CATHERINE
ROSSARB, PITORIA
War is often seen as the end, but often it is a new beginning.
War: The Art of Winning, M. Tatcher
THE SMOKE was choking, tears stung Catherine’s eyes, and she coughed and spluttered. All she could do was keep hold of Ambrose with one hand as Tanya clung to her other.
Catherine was afraid, not of the Brigantines but of what Ambrose might do. Ever since he’d seen Tarquin’s body, he’d been different. Distant. Hurt beyond words. He’d not spoken to her, but something about him had changed. And yet he was here, pulling her through the alleyways of Rossarb. She glimpsed others, some of her men, Edyon and March, Rafyon carrying Tash, who had stopped kicking and was now just sobbing quietly.
Finally the smoke cleared. They were at the eastern edge of the town, then through the last barricade, through the walls, and leaving Rossarb behind. The night was dark and the road quickly became no more than a stony path. The only sounds were their labored breathing and the river roaring to her left.
They were climbing, Catherine realized, the slope becoming steadily steeper and steeper. This path had to lead up to the Northern Plateau, to demon territory.
They carried on up the slope, Ambrose gripping her hand tightly, almost too tightly. At one point she stumbled and, like lightning, he turned to catch her but then carried on as fast as before. Finally, in a hollow in the hillside, they stopped.
Behind, there were dark silhouettes of people straggling up the hill, and beyond them, through the trees, Catherine could make out a bright orange glow.
Tanya said, “The whole town must be in flames.”
“My father’s legacy. Destruction.”
Catherine shook her head and felt tears fill her eyes.
“Will they come after us?” Tanya asked. “Or will they think we’re with Prince Tzsayn?”
“They’ll come, sooner or later.”
Her father would never stop. He’d never forgive. For those he deemed traitors, he would give no quarter, not even to Catherine. Especially not to her.
Catherine pulled her shoulders back. Her father could try to do to her what he’d done to Lady Anne, but she would fight back. She knew what he wanted now, and she would do everything she needed to stop him getting the purple demon smoke and leading his boy army against his peaceful neighbors.
And yet, in her heart, Catherine wanted to do more than that. She recognized now her own ambition, and for a brief moment she had a vision:
Her own army, white-haired, well-armed, and strong as demons.
Marching to war against her father.
PLACES AND CHARACTERS
BRIGANT
A war-hawkish country.
BRIGANE: the capital
FIELDING: a small village on the northwest coast, where Lady Anne was captured by Noyes
NORWEND: a region in the north of Brigant
TARASENTH: the home of the Marquess of Norwend
Aloysius: King of Brigant
Isabella: Queen of Brigant
Boris: Aloysius’s first-born son
Catherine: Aloysius’s daughter; betrothed to Prince Tzsayn of Pitoria; sixteen years old
Harold: Aloysius’s second-born son
Noyes: the court inquisitor
Sarah, Jane, and Tanya: Catherine’s maids
Peter, Viscount Lang, Dirk Hodgson, Sir Evan Walcott: members of the Royal Guard
The Marquess of Norwend: nobleman from the north of Brigant
Tarquin: the Marquess of Norwend’s first-born son
Ambrose: the Marquess of Norwend’s second-born son; member of the Royal Guard; twenty-one years old
Lady Anne: the Marquess of Norwend’s daughter; executed as a traitor
Sir Oswald Pence: Lady Anne’s friend; now deceased
CALIDOR
A small country to the south of Brigant.
TALIA: the capital
ABASK: a small mountainous region, laid waste during the war between Calidor and Brigant, where the people are known for their ice-blue eyes
Thelonius: Prince of Calidor; younger brother of King Aloysius of Brigant
Lord Regan: Thelonius’s oldest friend
March: servant to Prince Thelonius; Abask by birth; sixteen years old
Holywell: works for Aloysius as a fixer, spy, killer; Abask by birth
Julien: March’s older brother; now deceased
PITORIA
A large, wealthy country known for its dancing, where men dye their hair to show their allegiances. The wissun is a white flower that grows wild throughout most of Pitoria.
TORNIA: the capital
THE NORTHERN PLATEAU: a cold, forbidden region where demons live
CHARRON: a port town
WESTMOUTH: a port town
DORNAN: a market town
PRAVONT: a village on the edge of demon territory
ROSSARB: a northern port town with a small castle
LEYDALE: home to Lord Farrow
Arell: King of Pitoria
Tzsayn: Arell’s son; Catherine’s fiancé; twenty-three years old
Sir Rowland Hooper: the Brigantine ambassador to Pitoria
Lord Farrow: a powerful lord who distrusts Catherine and all Brigantines
Rafyon: one of the prince’s guard and most trusted of his men
Geratan: a dancer
Gravell: a demon hunter
Tash: Gravell’s assistant; born in Illast; thirteen years old
Erin Foss: a trader
Edyon: Erin’s son; a bastard; seventeen years old
Madame Eruth: a fortune-teller
ILLAST
A neighboring country of Pitoria, where women have more equality, being able to own property and businesses.
Valeria: Queen of Illast, many years ago
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Writing The Smoke Thieves has been a complex process that began a few years ago. It started with an idea—one of those ideas that gets you so excited that it’s vital that you tell someone immediately. In this case I stopped my car by the side of a country lane and rang my agent, Claire Wilson.
“Father and son—demon hunters,” I said.
“Love it!” she replied.
However, getting from the idea to a novel was far from straightforward and I struggled to develop the story. Eventually, I realized that I wasn’t that interested in demon hunters, but what I really wanted to do was to tell the story of two strong female characters. So the father and son morphed into a man and a girl—Gravell and Tash—and I developed the character of a princess who is privileged and yet also a second-class citizen because of her sex.
Catherine is a girl of intelligence, wit, and courage, who begins to realize her potential (in both senses of that phrase) as she grows up and assesses the men around her and wonders, how hard can it really be to rule? Her character was inspired in particular by two famous women—Elizabeth I of England and Catherine the Great of Russia—but also by all the examples of strong women I had grown up with. I was brought up in a family and educated in a school where women dominated in numbers, and where I was encouraged to work hard and believe I could achieve anything a man could (occasionally while doing it backward, as the old Ginger Rogers joke goes). My thanks to all those inspirational women in my family, my school, and my working life.
There have been a number of strong women and men who have helped me in the writing of this book. Thanks to my agent, Claire Wilson, and to my editor, Ben Horslen, who encouraged and supported me through the whole
process, especially during the dark days when it was all getting too complicated and difficult. Thanks to all at Penguin Random House, including Tig Wallace in editorial, Ben Hughes in design (for his wonderful map and covers), Wendy Shakespeare, the most kind and supportive copy-editor ever, and the world’s best rights team. Thanks to everyone at Viking in the US and in particular to my editor, Leila Sales—a wonderful, strong female character if ever there was one! Huge thanks to my family and friends. And my heartfelt thanks to all the wonderful fans of the Half Bad series who have supported my writing, often made me smile, and occasionally brought me to tears of happiness.
And finally thanks to you for reading my book—it’s a lot easier to keep writing a book when you know that someone is going to read it.
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Sally Green, The Smoke Thieves Series, Book 1
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