The black prism free download

Books by Brent Weeks THE NIGHT ANGEL TRILOGY The Way of Shadows Shadow’s Edge Beyond the Shadows LIGHTBRINGER SERIES The Black Prism Copyright Copyright © 2010 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 database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher Orbit Hachette Book Group 237 Park Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Visit our website at www.HachetteBookGroup.com www.twitter.com/orbitbooks First eBook Edition: August 2010 Orbit is an imprint of Hachette Book Group, Inc The Orbit name and logo are trademarks of Little, Brown Book Group Limited The characters and events in this book are fictitious Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author ISBN: 978-0-316-08754-4 Contents Copyright Books by Brent Weeks Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Chapter 54 Chapter 55 Chapter 56 Chapter 57 Chapter 58 Chapter 59 Chapter 60 Chapter 61 Chapter 62 Chapter 63 Chapter 64 Chapter 65 Chapter 66 Chapter 67 Chapter 68 Chapter 69 Chapter 70 Chapter 71 Chapter 72 Chapter 73 Chapter 74 Chapter 75 Chapter 76 Chapter 77 Chapter 78 Chapter 79 Chapter 80 Chapter 81 Chapter 82 Chapter 83 Chapter 84 Chapter 85 Chapter 86 Chapter 87 Chapter 88 Chapter 89 Chapter 90 Chapter 91 Chapter 92 Chapter 93 Chapter 94 Chapter 95 Acknowledgments To my wife, Kristi, who’s spent the better part of a decade proving me right Chapter Kip crawled toward the battlefield in the darkness, the mist pressing down, blotting out sound, scattering starlight Though the adults shunned it and the children were forbidden to come here, he’d played on the open field a hundred times—during the day Tonight, his purpose was grimmer Reaching the top of the hill, Kip stood and hiked up his pants The river behind him was hissing, or maybe that was the warriors beneath its surface, dead these sixteen years He squared his shoulders, ignoring his imagination The mists made him seem suspended, outside of time But even if there was no evidence of it, the sun was coming By the time it did, he had to get to the far side of the battlefield Farther than he’d ever gone searching Even Ramir wouldn’t come out here at night Everyone knew Sundered Rock was haunted But Ram didn’t have to feed his family; his mother didn’t smoke her wages Gripping his little belt knife tightly, Kip started walking It wasn’t just the unquiet dead that might pull him down to the evernight A pack of giant javelinas had been seen roaming the night, tusks cruel, hooves sharp They were good eating if you had a matchlock, iron nerves, and good aim, but since the Prisms’ War had wiped out all the town’s men, there weren’t many people who braved death for a little bacon Rekton was already a shell of what it had once been The alcaldesa wasn’t eager for any of her townspeople to throw their lives away Besides, Kip didn’t have a matchlock Nor were javelinas the only creatures that roamed the night A mountain lion or a golden bear would also probably enjoy a well-marbled Kip A low howl cut the mist and the darkness hundreds of paces deeper into the battlefield Kip froze Oh, there were wolves too How’d he forget wolves? Another wolf answered, farther out A haunting sound, the very voice of the wilderness You couldn’t help but freeze when you heard it It was the Kip froze, as did Gavin, outlined in the door The last time Kip had used the word he was being a snot, and things hadn’t gone well And then it got worse, as Kip suddenly realized Gavin had meant “son” like “young man.” Kip wished he could go jump back into the water for the sharks “I’m so sorry,” he said, “I didn’t—” “No!” Gavin cut him off with a hand “Whatever else you did, you proved yourself a Guile today, Kip.” Kip licked his lips “Did Karris… I saw her hit you Was that because of me?” Gavin laughed gently “Kip, a woman is the mystery you’ll never stop investigating.” Kip paused “Is that a yes?” “Karris hit me because I needed hitting.” That didn’t really help “Get some sleep… son,” Gavin said He paused, as if he was tasting the word “We’re done with that ‘nephew’ nonsense The world will know you’re my son And to hell with the consequences.” A little reckless grin And then he was gone Kip didn’t sleep He propped his back against one blue wall and pulled out the dagger The blade was a dazzling strange white metal with a spiraling core of black threaded from point to hilt There was little ornamentation except for seven clear, perfect diamonds on the hilt Well, six diamonds and maybe a sapphire Kip didn’t really know his jewels, but six stones were clear as glass but brilliantly refractive The seventh matched the others in size and clarity, but it glowed a brilliant, magical blue Kip sheathed the dagger How did my mother get such a thing? How did she not pawn it for haze? Kip opened the rosewood box to put the dagger away, and with his bandaged left hand he fumbled it, dropping it upside down in his lap He turned it over and saw that the silk lining was loose, not attached to the box itself but to a frame that filled the box He pulled on the frame, lifting it out Underneath was a thin compartment that held extra laces that matched the color of the sheath to tie it to different sizes of belt It wasn’t a secret compartment, but obviously Zymun hadn’t noticed it, nor had King Garadul, because there was a note there With trepidation, glancing at the door to make sure no one was passing, Kip read the note, written in his mother’s hard, deliberate strokes: “Kip, go to the Chromeria and kill the man who raped me and took away everything I had Don’t listen to his lies Swear you won’t fail me If you ever loved me, if you’ve ever wanted to anything good in this world, use this dagger to kill your father Kill Gavin Guile.” Kip felt locked up, paralyzed Someone was lying to him, betraying him Kip felt those deep, sucking pools of rage stirring It had to be his mother Addict Whore Liar Kip’s mother would lie for haze: she would abandon Kip in a closet Gavin had been hard on him, but he’d never lied to him He never would Never He was Kip’s family The first Kip had ever had But his mother had kept the dagger, and even the box She could have sold either for a mountain of haze She would have thought of them every time the madness of craving had been on her If this was more important to her than haze, why would she lie? Kip shivered, feeling like he was being ripped out of his moorings He didn’t know the truth But he would He swore it He folded the note and saw a quick scribble on the back he’d missed before, written looser and faster than the rest, but undeniably in his mother’s hand: “I love you, Kip I always have.” She’d never said those words Not once Not in his whole life He threw the note away like it was a serpent Pushed his face into the blankets so no one could hear And bawled Chapter 94 Dazen was crawling through darkness This was death, but life lay beyond, somewhere The floor was sharp, cutting his hands and knees cruelly He’d sucked up as much red luxin as he could before he’d left the blue cell, and if he hadn’t been fevered, he would have kept a flame alive, but his thoughts were still sluggish, stupid All he could was hold on to his anger, and the red had helped him that at first I will have my vengeance, he thought, but it was passionless There was only the pain in his hands and knees and the crawling He refused to stop This tunnel had curved and curved again, but it couldn’t go on forever Soon, he would sleep, and either die or wake stronger Strong enough to gather his strength and bring down Gavin He laughed weakly and kept crawling Damn this sharp rock What had his brother done? Carved his prison out of pure hellstone? Son of a bitch, that was exactly what Gavin had done Spent a fortune simply to cut Dazen up The hateful bastard But Dazen wasn’t so easy to stop He kept crawling Freedom would not be denied him so easily Still, obsidian was so rare that lining an entire tunnel with the stuff would have cost more than the Guile family made in a year Why would Gavin have done such a thing? The magic properties of the stuff meant that with pure darkness and a direct connection—such as through blood or an open cut—it could drain the luxin out of a drafter No wonder the red luxin wasn’t helping Dazen feel hatred anymore It had all been drained away Something niggled at Dazen’s mind The bends in the tunnel, maybe that was it The tunnels had bent so that no blue light would spill from the blue cell into the tunnel Thus the tunnel would be totally dark So the obsidian would work Damn Gavin to the evernight He’s not stopping me I don’t care if I’m a bloody wreck I’m getting out of here Part of Dazen was telling him to stop, to think That blue, rational part of him But he couldn’t stop If he didn’t keep moving, he’d never get anywhere He was so sick, so fevered that if he stopped he might never move again Gavin wanted to paralyze him No No no no Dazen pushed on The floor here felt different Not obsidian He’d gotten past it He crawled farther He could swear there was a glow ahead of him Dear Orholam, there was— The floor dropped out from under him, swinging open on hidden hinges Dazen tumbled down, rolling over and over, unable to stop himself, down a chute that snapped shut behind him He rolled over, bathed in green light Green? An entire, round chamber, with green walls like trees A hole up top for water and food and air, and a hole in the bottom for waste Dazen looked desperately at his skin for the red luxin It was gone All gone, all sucked up by the obsidian tunnel Dazen started laughing stupidly, desperately, madly A green prison, after the blue prison He laughed until he was sobbing There wasn’t one prison There weren’t two He knew it now He had no doubt There were seven prisons One for every color, and in sixteen years, he had only escaped the first He laughed and sobbed In one luminous green wall, the dead man laughed with him At him Chapter 95 “Not bad for a defeat,” said Corvan Danavis, coming into Gavin’s cabin Gavin sat up, blinking the sleep from his eyes His “quick nap” after talking to Kip had left him wooly But he’d drafted so much over the past week, it was no wonder he felt off He said, “We lost a city, three-quarters of the Blackguard, and hundreds if not thousands of soldiers My natural son— whom I just acknowledged—publicly murdered a rightful satrap, which will make the other satraps worry I’m trying to rule the world again We have thousands of refugees that we have to put Orholam knows where; there’s some pagan army in charge of Garriston; and I’ve built them a damn near unassailable wall, which will now protect my enemies Oh, and your daughter has joined our foes If that’s not bad for a defeat, I’m not really sure what is.” “Could be worse,” Corvan said Gavin rubbed his cheek where Karris had slapped him It was worse, Corvan, he wanted to say He’d been so delighted to see Karris alive that he’d hugged her without thinking He’d deserved the slap for that alone But she’d clung to him, for half a moment Maybe she just felt relieved to be safe, away from King Garadul’s army, but he’d hoped it was something more Then she’d whispered, “I know your big secret, you asshole Why couldn’t you be man enough to tell me yourself?” Big secret? His heart froze up in his chest Which big secret? She released him and stared into his eyes Unable to take it, he’d glanced away—and saw Kip Kip, whom he’d thought was most likely dead Like a moron, he said, “Kip?” He hadn’t meant Kip was his big secret That would be stupid Of course she knew about Kip But his brain wasn’t working Her closeness, the battle, the effects of his drafting so much, and the sudden sense of exposure throttled his thoughts She’d slapped him He’d deserved it Gavin said to Corvan, “It can always be worse Is the weather holding?” He sat up If he had to make these barges weather a storm, he was going to have a lot of work to “Hold up,” Corvan said “Your attitude when you go out there matters.” Gavin stopped Corvan had talked to him like this before, but not since the war “What are you talking about?” “I mean this Lord Omnichrome doesn’t care about Garriston The only thing Garriston was to him was a chance to take a victory from us, and frame you for murdering a satrap so he could mobilize people to fight you What he wants is to destroy the Chromeria He wants to drive out the belief in Orholam and set up a new order And we don’t even know what that new order is yet.” “So let’s rephrase ‘defeat’ as ‘crushing defeat,’ huh?” Gavin knew he was being childish, but Corvan was the only person around whom he could complain It felt good to have his friend back “We have to get ready for war,” Corvan said “A bigger war than over one little city.” “You think people are going to join him?” “In droves,” Corvan said “My daughter did, and she’s not stupid So we have to believe he’s charismatic, and we’ve already seen that he’s smart enough to defeat us and get all he wants So we have to look at what we have, and prepare.” “I’m sorry she joined him, Corvan She seemed like such a sensible girl I should have watched out for her better while she was—” “She is a sensible girl I’m not worried about her She’ll come back,” Corvan said There was an edge on his voice, as well there should be He was trying to convince himself too But Gavin knew not to push it “So what we have?” Gavin asked “We have you and me We got Karris back and Kip back and Ironfist back, when we could have easily lost all three We have the devotion, loyalty, awe, and motivation of thirty thousand people who now believe in Gavin Guile to the core of their souls I call that the start of an army You’re the Prism How is some pagan king going to stand up to you?” Gavin laughed, because both of them knew that there were about a thousand ways It was also a little scary, how Corvan thought How he saw through things Gavin would have to be careful There are things you can’t tell even your best friend Great purposes best achieved by misdirection Pensive, Gavin said, “You know, I came up with a list of things I want to accomplish before I die, and the best thing on that list was to free Garriston What I let happen there after the war was… I don’t know if it’s the worst thing I’ve done, that’s a crowded field, but I let what was happening in Garriston keep happening For sixteen years With all my power, I could never get the Spectrum to stop it.” “I knew a man once who had a knack of changing the rules when he couldn’t win He didn’t give up when others said he’d already lost,” Corvan said “So… Garriston is a collection of ramshackle buildings with indefensible walls.” “So I built new walls, I changed the rules I tried, Corvan! I lost!” Gavin grimaced, light dawning “Oh, and you’re going to say next, ‘You lost a collection of ramshackle buildings.’ And I’m going to say, ‘Yes! We’ve established that.’ And you’re going to point out that when I decided to free Garriston, I probably wasn’t worried about the misery of the buildings, but the misery of the people.” “And then I’ll point out that all those people you wanted to free are here And then you’ll admit my superior wisdom.” Gavin laughed In some moments, it was like a day hadn’t passed since they’d been separated “Well, we know one of those things isn’t going to happen.” Corvan grinned He was right, though “So,” he said, “go out there and smile, and pat your soldiers on the back, and act like an emperor with a great purpose before him—a promachos who will accomplish that great purpose You have freed these people You are going to protect them, and you will give them a new home You will give them justice And they’re going to help you.” “Sometimes I think you should have been the leader, not me,” Gavin said “Me too,” Corvan said He grinned “Orholam’s ways are mysterious In some cases, very mysterious.” “Thanks,” Gavin said Then they laughed together It felt good Food for a hungry soul “By the by, how’s your back? I could’ve sworn that little weasel stabbed you Kip’s being hailed as a hero for stopping him, you know.” “He got him right in the nick of time, I guess,” Gavin said, though he must have taken a shot in the kidney from the boy’s fist as Kip had tackled him, because he had felt a searing pain He pulled his shirt around and showed it to Corvan The shirt was cut over his kidney, but his skin was unbroken “A near thing,” he said Corvan whistled “Orholam’s hand must be on you, my friend.” Gavin grunted From how his head felt, he wished Orholam’s hand were a little gentler “Well, time to go play emperor, then,” he said Together, they walked to the door of the cabin—and who had drafted cabins onto the barge? Gavin paused “Corvan, something was bothering me.” “Yes?” “All those years you spent in that little town Seems like an awful coincidence that both you and Kip were in the same place.” “Not a coincidence,” Corvan said soberly “You tracked him down You were looking out for him Watching him.” Gavin didn’t need Corvan to confirm it He knew “But you never got very close to him.” “Tried not to, anyway He’s a good boy But he is who he is,” Corvan said He meant, He is your brother’s son Corvan looked down at his hands and lowered his voice, so that even if someone had been eavesdropping just outside the room, they couldn’t have made out the words “I knew you might need me to kill him someday I didn’t want to make it harder than it had to be.” Neither said anything for a long moment The Danavis motto was Fealty to One Corvan didn’t believe in Orholam, or the Chromeria, or any creed He believed in Gavin Sometimes it was frightening to have someone believe in you like that For a second, Gavin considered telling Corvan his seventh and final purpose Trusting him But no Safer this way He’d tell him when the time came “Some world,” Corvan said finally “Some day,” Gavin said, looking out on the gray skies Blah Corvan grunted “At least it’s nice out,” he said, and went on his way Sometimes Corvan’s sarcasm was so deadpan Gavin shrugged and went around patting shoulders, checking on the wounded, asking about supplies and their course, mostly being seen and being seen to care and to be in charge Karris watched him the whole time, but never said a word to him There was another problem he’d have to address He checked in on Kip The boy was curled up, asleep As well he might be Gavin was still sorting out the tales According to the stories, Kip had drafted green, blue, red, and maybe yellow At fifteen years of age Gavin had hoped to buy them both some time by falsifying the testing stone; Kip’s road was going to be hard enough as it was Too late now Smart, brave, and now a polychrome, the boy had more than proven himself a Guile—Gavin would have to work twice as hard to keep the truth from him There was a lot of work to Not least of which was facing his father and telling him his wife was dead, that his bastard grandson had killed a satrap, and trying to fend off a conversation about marrying some satrap’s daughter in order to patch things up—a conversation Gavin was going to lose He went to the side of the barge to draft a scull to head over to the other barge He looked around for something blue to draft from There was nothing He looked up There were no clouds He was on a barge on the sea under a bright sky But something was wrong He tried to draft blue He was a Prism; he could split white light into anything But nothing happened A bolt of panic flashed through Gavin He counted off his colors on his fingertips, thumb to forefinger first, down then up Sub-red, red, orange, yellow, green, bl—Nothing He stared at his offending middle finger as if this were its fault There was no blue He couldn’t draft it He couldn’t even see it It was starting Not on the seventh year Now He’d never even known how a Prism knew when the end began Now he knew He was losing his colors He didn’t have five years left; it was starting now Gavin was dying Acknowledgments Two years ago, I sent my Night Angel trilogy into the world with the typical triumph and terror I’ve burned to be a novelist since I was thirteen This was my shot, my chance to run the gauntlet of the masses A hundred things can bury a debut, and just to push off the necessity of getting a real job, I needed my debut to better than most But dreams burn to the ground every day Tragedies happen But so miracles So my first thank-you is to you readers who gave an unknown guy with some ninja novel a chance And thank you especially to you readers who then handed my book to a friend and said, “Try this No, really, try it.” And a double especially with whip and a chocolate-covered espresso bean to those of you who work at bookstores who did that, from Albuquerque to Perth You all have changed my life It is a huge privilege to get to write for a living, so thank you Kristi, you are grace and tenacity I wouldn’t be living the dream without you, and I wouldn’t want to Thanks for having that crazy impractical streak where it comes to me, an inch wide and a mile deep Don, thank you for not just wrangling deals, but also knowing when to say no to them Thank you for steering me to work with people who will be passionate about my books Cameron, thanks for foisting my books on the unwary all over the world Devi, thank you for using the fierce Eye of Sauron—no, not on me!—but secretly on my behalf And to you and Tim, Alex, Jack, and Jennifer, I promised you this book would be my shortest, and it turned into my longest, causing headaches for everyone Rather than beating me to get the next product in the supply chain, you’ve allowed me a huge amount of autonomy I appreciate your faith in me and all you to make me successful You guys are fearless and brilliant, and it’s great to work with you Thanks to all the other folks at Hachette, from the nameless unpaid interns (hang in there!), to the guy who keeps the computers running, to Gina (I really owe you several nice dinners, don’t I?), to the patient production people who have good reason to hate me But I pass all hatred along to my editor, Devi (She also likes unsolicited manuscripts! Here’s her home phone number and personal email @ ) Heather and Andrew, thank you for all your work in managing the forum You’ve allowed me to connect with my fans—and still have time to write Thank you thank you thank you I’m afraid I’ve rewarded the friends and family who tolerated many email updates over the years (how many words can you use to say “still no book sale”?) by being so busy in the last two years that I hardly ever update them at all If you were in the first acknowledgments, thank you again Cody L., your enthusiasm is better than coffee Shaun and Diane M., thank you for your wise counsel and friendship Scot and Kariann B., thanks for the trips to Red Robin every time we sold a foreign right (Italy, huzzah!) Dr Jacob K., thanks for awesome impromptu lectures, gentle translation corrections, and “promachos.” Thank you to Dr Jon L., who once said, “Wouldn’t it be cool if instead of [genre trope], the hero [inverse of genre trope]?” That seed niggled at me for years, Jon I have since found the very good reasons why more writers haven’t done that—and had a blast doing it anyway Thank you to Seiei, who changed this whole book with a couple of tweets Thank you Nate D., for genius brainstorming, and Laura J D., for insights into two things I will probably never truly understand: women, and being incredibly fit Any errors in this book are theirs Thank you Rockstar Energy Drink Those years you took off my life were probably the bad ones anyway And last, thank you to you unshakably curious readers who still read acknowledgments though you aren’t looking for your name What, the book wasn’t long enough for you? Go on, get outta here and go tell someone, “You gotta read this! No, really C’mon, there’s a maa-aap.” Table of Contents Copyright Books by Brent Weeks Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Chapter 54 Chapter 55 Chapter 56 Chapter 57 Chapter 58 Chapter 59 Chapter 60 Chapter 61 Chapter 62 Chapter 63 Chapter 64 Chapter 65 Chapter 66 Chapter 67 Chapter 68 Chapter 69 Chapter 70 Chapter 71 Chapter 72 Chapter 73 Chapter 74 Chapter 75 Chapter 76 Chapter 77 Chapter 78 Chapter 79 Chapter 80 Chapter 81 Chapter 82 Chapter 83 Chapter 84 Chapter 85 Chapter 86 Chapter 87 Chapter 88 Chapter 89 Chapter 90 Chapter 91 Chapter 92 Chapter 93 Chapter 94 Chapter 95 Acknowledgments ... with a punch dagger in the middle Like the others, she was extensively trained in the use of both, and a number of other weapons Unlike the others, her skin wasn’t the deep black of a Parian or... sphere, the floor less steep but still sloping toward the middle The walls were lit from within, every surface emitting the same color light The only shadow in the dungeon was the prisoner himself There... in Like the other Blackguards protecting the White, Karris wore fine black trousers and blouse, cut for fighting and plain except for the embroidery of her rank on the shoulder and at the neck