We’re thrilled today to be able to share an exclusive extract from Greg Keyes upcoming novel THE WIND THAT SWEEPS THE STARS

This action-packed fantasy is due out from Titan Books next year. Before we dive into the excerpt, let’s find out a little more about it…

A taut high fantasy as an assassin must destroy an empire from within, eliminating wizards, their demons, and even the emperor. For the lives-for the very souls-of her people, she must succeed within a single day, or her homeland will be destroyed.

ALONE AGAINST AN EMPIRE.

When Yash of Zeltah arrives in the fortress city of Honaq she is greeted as a barbarian, a simple pawn. Her marriage to prince Chej has been arranged, they say, to avert war. Yet she knows the truth, for the armies already ravage the land. A skilled and deadly assassin, there is more to Yash than any might suspect. Before another day can pass, she must defeat the masters of the nine towers-the plagues, magics, and monsters they control, the soldiers they command. Without raising an alarm, she must kill all who oppose her-even the immortal emperor. The lives and souls of Zeltah, the people and the land upon which they live, all depend on it.

The Wind that Sweeps the Stars is due for release 9th April 2024. You can pre-order your copy on Bookshop.org

Excerpt

Dzhesq, master of the Blue Needle Tower, murdered a slave and read the portents in the dimming of her eyes. He traced signs of pulverized bone around the corpse, burned the resin of a plant from another world and called upon his xual to aid him. The xual answered, and the scent of wildflowers filled the room. Demons of pestilence and despair drifted out of the smoke from the burning pitch. Dzhesq the Needle set them on a north-blowing wind. Afterwards, he washed his hands and groomed himself, admiring his beautiful, tapered face and dark eyes in a mirror before descending from his tower to visit the princess Yash of Zeɫtah.

“I’m afraid I have some bad news,” Dzhesq told Princess Yash.

She had been standing near the window when he arrived, staring into the distance, probably pining for her barbarous homeland. Now her dull black eyes were fixed on him, where he stood in the doorway to her chambers. She had changed out of her colorful and elaborate wedding dress and now wore a tan silukur robe. The garment hung from her broad, bony shoulders, emphasizing the deficits of her wiry, unlovely figure. She looked like a starved, mangy dog that had been shoved into expensive cloth. 

“I’m so happy for you,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” Dzhesq said, unsure what she meant. “You’re happy for me?”

She nodded and made a grimace which was probably meant to be a smile. Her eyes were too far apart, and her mouth was so wide she reminded him of a frog.

“People say they hate to bring bad news,” she said. “But almost everyone rushes to do it, don’t they? To be the first to tell it. To see the reaction – the frown, the sadness, the fear. The tears. When you bring bad news, you can see all of that. You can be the one to make that happen. But there’s no guilt – you can’t be blamed, can you? It’s not you making them cry, it’s the news. You’re providing a service. They’ll be grateful to you. Maybe they’ll even be a little sad for you that you’re the one that must tell them.” The ends of her mouth turned further up, so that even on her unfortunate face there was now no mistaking the attempted smile. “So, I’m happy for you, that you have bad news to tell me. I hope you enjoy it. Does it concern my husband? I was expecting him by now.”

Self-awareness was important, Dzhesq knew, so he paused to reflect that had never wanted to hit anyone so much in his life. No, not hit her. He wanted to unsheathe the demon-bone knife at his belt and stab it through her windpipe, end her crude attempt to speak his language. And her insolence. She was making fun of him. No one did that. No one spoke to him like that. Not for many years, and for good reason.

Least of all an ugly little barbarian.

It was all made worse, of course, by the fact that at present he couldn’t hit her or stab her. The emperor wanted her alive. But when the day came that she was of no further use to the empire, things would be different. That thought soothed him. It got him through the moment.

“No,” he replied, evenly. “Your husband is not yet done with his purifications. He will soon be ready for you – you need not worry on that account.”

“I’m not worried in the slightest,” she said. 

It was the way she said it that got his attention. As if she was asserting herself.

“I take it that it this marriage was not of your choosing?” He asked.

“I would not have chosen it, no,” she said. 

“You thought you could do better than Prince Chej? Or marry for love, perhaps, rather than for reasons of state?”

“I didn’t say any of that,” the girl replied. “You asked a question. I gave you an honest answer. I don’t want to be married to Chej. I don’t want to be here, in this place.”

“But you agreed to the match, did you not? Your family said you did. You said so at the wedding. You seem to value honesty. Were you being dishonest then?”

She cocked one eyebrow and took a step away from the window, toward him.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “We were not introduced. Who are you?”

“I am Lord Dzhesq nXar Hsa, Master of the Blue Needle Tower. By custom you may address me as Master Needle or Master Dzhesq the Needle.”

“Oh,” she said. “One of the tower masters, yes? A, um, dj’ende? I don’t know your word.”

He knew the word dj’ende. In her language it meant “evil spirit”. 

“You don’t know your own words,” Dzhesq retorted. “Much less mine. In your language I would be called a duyenen. In mine, the title is zuen. A holy man.”

“You practice sorcery,” she said, wriggling her fingers at him. “You send plagues and demons to destroy your enemies, yes?”

“Among other things,” he agreed.

She shrugged. “Then we agree on what you are. The word we use does not really matter, does it?” She smiled again and nodded, as if they were friends sharing a little joke. “But,” she went on, “now that we are introduced, I am pleased to answer your question. Of course I agreed to marry Chej. Our kingdom is small. Yours is large. If our countries had not been joined by marriage, you would have joined them with your army. So here I am.”

Dzhesq nodded. He was starting to feel better now.

“So, you are a dutiful woman,” he said. “That is good.”

She shrugged. “You said you had bad news?”

“Yes,” he said. “I’m afraid there has been a change in your accommodations. You must accompany me to the Blue Needle Tower. Rooms have been made ready for you there.”

“That isn’t news, bad or good,” Yash said. “It makes no difference to me where I stay. But you will have to show me. This place is altogether confusing.”

“A bit grander than your little pile of rocks back home?” he said, stepping aside and ushering her toward the door.

“Yes!” She said. “It’s very big, with so many rooms. And so many towers! It looks like a mountain covered in yellow pines from a distance. And every tower has a master, like you, yes? I imagine you must be the grandest master of them all.”

“I am highly ranked,” he said. In fact, of the nine tower masters, he was reckoned third in power and prestige. “The Emperor is most highly ranked, of course.”

“Oh yes, of course,” she said. “I meant after him.”

Let her believe what she wanted. What the awful, despicable creature thought was less to him than what a red ant could carry. 

They wound their way through the twisting corridors of the fortress. The barbarian princess prattled the whole way, asking questions about everything she saw. “What’s through there? How does this curved roof stay up by itself? Is that carving a toad or a bug of some kind?” When they reached the polished stone floor of the lowest court of the Blue Needle Tower, her eyes widened comically.

“So many warriors!” she said.

Dzhesq glanced at the twelve guards in their lacquered leather cuirasses watching them enter the tower.

“Sentries,” he replied. “To keep you safe.”

“Safe?” she said.

He nodded.

Once they began up the spiral staircase, Princess Yash became mercifully less verbose, saying only, “It’s awfully tall” and, “are we going to the very top?”

He answered yes to both questions.

When they reached the uppermost floor and stepped into the chamber there, she nodded.

“Cozy,” she said. “I like it.”

It consisted of only three rooms and was less than half the size of the suite she’d had downstairs.

“More like what you’re used to,” he said.

“Yes, of course,” she replied. She went to the window. “The view is fantastic, too. I can see the Tsewe Zeɫ Mountains.”

“Yes, we’re quite high here.”

“Why the change in rooms?” she wondered.

“That’s the bad news,” he said. “You see? I did not hasten to tell it to you, as you predicted. The bad news is that a short time after your wedding concluded, the Emperor ordered the invasion of your kingdom. You are now a valuable hostage, and we cannot run the risk of some sort of misguided rescue attempt. You will be quite safe here, and in a matter of days, when the war is over, you will no doubt be allowed to take up residence in your husband’s quarters.”

He paused to enjoy her look of perplexed horror, even though it wasn’t exactly what he had been imagining. If he didn’t know better, he might think she didn’t look shocked at all. Maybe more – relieved? 

“Let me be sure I understand,” the princess said. “The terms of my marriage included the provision that the empire would not make war on my country?”

“Yes.”

“But your emperor has nevertheless sent an invading army there.”

“Also yes.”

“Well,” she said. Nodding. She looked around the room, then went over to the padded mattress on the floor. She knelt and picked up a small soapstone incense bowl, turning it in her hands.

“You will be my keeper, Master Dzhesq the Needle?” she asked. “That is why you brought me to your tower?”

“If you want to look at it that way,” he said. 

She nodded again and started to set the little fist-sized bowl down.

Then she moved. Very quickly.

The stone bowl hit him in the throat before he realized what had happened. He stumbled back, clutching at his windpipe as she ran toward him. He couldn’t breathe, his scalp was tingling with alarm, and he didn’t understand what was going on. He put his hands out toward her and tried to command her to stop, but he couldn’t get the words out.

She drove her small fist into him, just below his breastbone. It felt like it was made of granite; all the air went out of him, and he fell back, black spots filling his vision. The next thing he knew she was behind him, her arm wrapped around his neck.

She’s attacking me, he realized. But that was ridiculous. He was twice her size. He could beat her to death with one hand. But more than that, he was a tower master, with all the power that entailed.

With no voice, he couldn’t call his xual – it was too far way. But there was help nearer, so he didn’t have to speak the word aloud, only to concentrate on it, form it in his head. Even though at this moment that was harder than it should be, especially for someone of his power.

Neheshhish, he finally managed.

Then the chuaxhi sewn inside of Dzhesq’s skin burst forth from the tattooed line on his sternum, looking at first like a stream of white smoke, but quickly forming into a bent, lizard-like figure armored in alabaster scales standing half again as tall as a man. 

He was relieved, but he still couldn’t breathe. Everything went dark.

But then the light returned; his ears were ringing, and his lungs were filled again. Now he could smell the burnt-air scent of the chuaxhi. It was across the room, slashing at princess Yash with talons as long and sharp as knives. Dzhesq knew he was going to get in trouble for this – the chuaxhi was going to shred the ugly little girl, and the Emperor wanted her alive. But there was nothing he could do now. This was her fault, as anyone could see.

The Wind that Sweeps the Stars is due for release 9th April 2024. You can pre-order your copy on Bookshop.org