The Poison Song Read online

  Copyright © 2019 Jen Williams

  The right of Jen Williams to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  First published as an Ebook by Headline Publishing Group in 2019

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library

  eISBN: 978 1 4722 3522 0

  Cover illustration by Patrick Insole incorporating images © benntennsann/Shutterstock

  HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP

  An Hachette UK Company

  Carmelite House

  50 Victoria Embankment

  London, EC4Y 0DZ

  www.headline.co.uk

  www.hachette.co.uk

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  About Jen Williams

  About the Book

  By Jen Williams and available from Headline

  Praise

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-one

  Chapter Forty-two

  Chapter Forty-three

  Chapter Forty-four

  Chapter Forty-five

  Chapter Forty-six

  Chapter Forty-seven

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Chapter Forty-nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-one

  Chapter Fifty-two

  Chapter Fifty-three

  Chapter Fifty-four

  Acknowledgements

  Find out where it all began . . .

  Discover more Jen Williams . . .

  About Jen Williams

  JEN WILLIAMS lives in London with her partner and their cat. A fan of pirates and dragons from an early age, these days she writes character-driven fantasy novels with plenty of banter and magic, and in 2015 she was nominated for Best Newcomer in the British Fantasy Awards. In 2018, The Ninth Rain, the first book in the Winnowing Flame trilogy, won the British Fantasy Award for Best Fantasy Novel. The sequel, The Bitter Twins, was published in March 2018. Jen’s first series, the Copper Cat trilogy, consists of The Copper Promise, The Iron Ghost and The Silver Tide – all published by Headline in the UK – and the first two books in the trilogy are now available in the US and Canada, published by Angry Robot. Both The Iron Ghost and The Silver Tide have also been nominated for British Fantasy Awards. Jen is partly responsible for founding the Super Relaxed Fantasy Club, a social group that meets in London to celebrate a love of fantasy, and she is partial to mead, if you’re buying.

  The Poison Song is the third novel in the Winnowing Flame trilogy.

  Find out more at www.sennydreadful.com or follow her on Twitter @sennydreadful.

  About the Book

  All is chaos. All is confusion. The Jure’lia are weak, but the war is far from over.

  Ebora was once a glorious city, defended by legendary warriors and celebrated in song. Now refugees from every corner of Sarn seek shelter within its crumbling walls, and the enemy that has poisoned their land won’t lie dormant for long.

  The deep-rooted connection that Tormalin, Noon and the scholar Vintage share with their Eboran war-beasts has kept them alive so far. But with Tor distracted, and his sister Hestillion hell-bent on bringing ruthless order to the next Jure’lia attack, the people of Sarn need all the help they can get.

  Noon is no stranger to playing with fire and knows just where to recruit a new – and powerful – army. But even she underestimates the epic quest that is to come. It is a journey wrought with pain and sacrifice – a reckoning that will change the face of Sarn forever.

  By Jen Williams and available from Headline

  The Copper Cat Trilogy

  The Copper Promise

  The Iron Ghost

  The Silver Tide

  Sorrow’s Isle (digital short story)

  The Winnowing Flame Trilogy

  The Ninth Rain

  The Bitter Twins

  The Poison Song

  Praise for the Winnowing Flame trilogy:

  ‘Jam-packed with breathtaking inventiveness – giant flying bats! Dragons! Aliens! Vampires! In anyone else’s hands, that might be an unholy mess, but somehow it just works brilliantly’

  James Oswald

  ‘Williams brings her dark and immersive narrative to life with vivid descriptive passages, a great line in sarcastic humour and human insight’

  Guardian

  ‘A triumphant return to the world of Sarn . . . wickedly entertaining and balances its humour at all times with an emotional sense of consequence for each of its characters’

  SciFi Now

  ‘Absolutely phenomenal fantasy – a definite must-read’

  Adrian Tchaikovsky

  ‘There is so much to praise about The Ninth Rain: the worldbuilding is top-notch, the plot is gripping and the characters just get better and better. A sublime read’

  SFX

  ‘The setting is diverse, different and intriguing. The characters feel real and you want to know more about their lives with every turn of the page. This is fantasy adventure at its very best’

  Starburst

  ‘A gem of a book with overtones of the new weird and dashes of horror. I loved it from cover to cover’

  Den Patrick

  ‘Even more epic in another slice of fresh, character-driven fantasy’

  Peter Newman

  ‘A cracking story that grips you by the heart and doesn’t let go’

  Edward Cox

  ‘A great read with heart and soul and epic beasties’

  www.raptureinbooks.com

  ‘Great pacing, top-notch writing, quality characterisation, plenty of action . . . all make The Ninth Rain a truly enjoyable and absorbing read’

  www.thetattooedbookgeek.wordpress.com

  ‘Brilliantly creative fantasy’

  www.thisnortherngal.co.uk

  ‘My only grievance with the trilogy is this: it’s not published in full yet! . . . the wait will likely kill me’

  www.liisthinks.blog

  Praise for t
he Copper Cat trilogy:

  ‘A fast-paced and original new voice in heroic fantasy’

  Adrian Tchaikovsky

  ‘A fresh take on classic tropes . . . 21st century fantasy at its best’

  SFX

  ‘Williams has thrown out the rulebook and injected a fun tone into epic fantasy without lightening or watering down the excitement and adventure . . . Highly recommended’

  Independent

  ‘A highly inventive, vibrant high fantasy with a cast you can care about . . . There is never a dull moment’

  British Fantasy Society

  ‘Expect dead gods, mad magic, piracy on the high seas, peculiar turns and pure fantasy fun’

  Starburst

  ‘Absolutely stuffed with ghoulish action. There is never a dull page’

  SciFiNow

  ‘An enthralling adventure’

  Sci-Fi Bulletin

  ‘The Copper Promise is dark, often bloody, frequently frightening, but there’s also bucket loads of camaraderie, sarcasm, and an unashamed love of fantasy and the fantastic’

  Den Patrick

  For Ella and Daisy,

  my two favourite witchlings

  Chapter One

  Ink. And paper. In this tower built with the silence of women, I have been given back my voice.

  The room is still a cell, in a way. The walls are still black stone and my window is still barred, but when the door – of old, blackened wood – is closed, I cannot be seen. There is a bed, a place to wash myself, and a small wooden desk, with ink and paper and pen.

  They will not know what they have given me. Winnowry agents are expected to write reports on their missions, and this is what the desk and its contents are for, but in it I see an extraordinary thing.

  The curse of the Winnowry is silence and forgetfulness. So many women have entered these black towers, passing out of their lives and out of Sarn, into nothingness. Their lives end here, unremarked, and they are buried deep in the cold sand. Of them and their lives, their stories, nothing is known.

  I have lived in that, have felt the slow creeping terror that I am forgotten by the world. Have watched women with pasts as colourful and as unique as tapestries turn to slow and silent stone as their humanity was leeched from them. Are you really speaking if no one can hear you?

  But, ink and paper are now mine. In a small way these women’s stories will be recorded, and I will give them voices – even if they must be secret ones.

  Extract from the private records of Agent Chenlo

  ‘Put that flame away! Unless you want to go back to your cell?’

  The girl looked up at her, startled, and Agent Chenlo smiled to lessen the harshness of her words. These girls, she reminded herself, were not yet used to the licence they’d been given, limited as it was, and even less used to the idea that a misstep wouldn’t automatically earn them a freezing bath or a beating. The tiny lick of green flame that had been curling in the girl’s palm immediately vanished.

  ‘Put your gloves back on, Fell-Lisbet, and here, look.’ Agent Chenlo gently turned the girls to look back at the Winnowry. The small jetty they stood on was chilly and damp, and the little boat docked there smelled overpoweringly of shellfish, but the Winnowry remained its black, imposing self, looming over the fell-witches like a threat. ‘You see those windows there, that go all the way up the chirot tower? And those in Mother Cressin’s territory? A sister or a father may look out of those windows at any time, or even the Drowned One herself,’ she ignored the mutter at her use of this forbidden phrase, ‘and they could see us, huddled down here on this grey day. And winnowfire, even the tiniest flicker, will draw their gaze like that.’ She snapped her fingers for emphasis. She did not wear gloves herself today. ‘It is so bright, it is like a beacon to them. And do you think that if you are caught using your abilities without permission they will allow you to become agents yourselves?’

  The girls shuffled and muttered as one, picking at their scarves and casting shy glances at the towers. They liked Agent Chenlo because she gave warnings before punishments, and because she called the winnowfire an ability and not an abomination – at least when she was out of earshot of the other agents.

  ‘Come on, let’s get those barrels on board, or we’ll be late. Quickly now.’

  The girls returned to the task at hand. Today was the beginning of their introduction to the business of the Winnowry, the daily and weekly tasks that kept the order going. They would load the barrels of akaris up onto the little boat, and make the quick crossing to Mushenska, where they would be unloaded again. They would then accompany Agent Chenlo to the trading house, where much of the akaris would be sold in bulk to the highest bidders. A unique drug that could only be crafted within the intense heat of winnowfire, akaris gave its user a deep, dreamless sleep – unless it was cut with a variety of stimulants, in which case the effects were rather more lively. Officially, only the Winnowry could supply the drug, and thanks to this little monopoly, they could happily charge through the nose for it. Once the akaris had been changed into useful coin, Agent Chenlo and the novice agents would return across the channel of grey water, and that would be that. Small steps, but important ones: learning how to conduct themselves out in the world, showing that they could be trusted. If any one of the four girls stepped out of line, it would be up to Agent Chenlo to admonish them, which could mean anything from a severe dressing-down to having their life energy removed to the point where they passed out. She was authorised to kill them, if she had to, and she carried the silver-topped cudgel, normally worn by the sisters, at her belt, but Agent Chenlo had never had to use it.

  She watched them for a moment, rolling the barrels up the gangplank, observed by the wiry captain and a spotty cabin boy. The barrels were heavy and sometimes the fell-witches found the work too difficult, weakened as they were by years spent in damp cells eating gruel, but this group were making the best of it. Satisfied that they’d be able to manage, Agent Chenlo turned away to look across the sea to Mushenska, and all of the familiar ordinariness of the day was chased away by the sight of an impossible shape in the skies over the city; a nightmare coming into focus. She made an odd noise, somewhere between a yelp and a gasp, and heard the captain shout something. One of the girls let out a little shriek.

  A dragon was flying over the sea towards them. It was a magnificent thing, covered in pearly white scales, its wings bristling with white feathers. It wore a harness of brown leather and silver, and there was a young woman sitting on its back, her black hair flapping wildly in the wind and a furious expression on her face. Agent Chenlo turned back and shouted at the girls.

  ‘Go! Get on the boat now. You,’ she gestured at the captain, ‘get them to the city. Cast off immediately.’

  The man opened his mouth to argue, and she raised her hands in a clear threat. ‘Do it, captain, or I will sink your miserable boat myself.’

  The novice agents were all either staring at the dragon – it was so close now, so close – or staring at her, their eyes wide. Agent Chenlo clapped her hands together once, sharply, and the spell broke. As one, the young women ran up the gangplank, and as they disappeared below decks, she felt a surge of relief. From the towers, bells were ringing as various people sounded the alarm all at once.

  Chenlo hesitated on the jetty, uncertain what to do next. Knowledge of a number of recent events jostled for her attention, but one fact was clearer than anything else: as unlikely as it seemed, the dragon had to be a legendary war-beast from distant Ebora, and the young woman riding on its back had every reason to be furious with the Winnowry.

  She began to run towards the main buildings. The dragon got there first, crashing into and through one of the high, spindly towers. Black chunks of rock exploded into the sky as the very top of the structure was smashed to pieces, and then, with a roar, the dragon turned, coming round for another attack. This time the monster landed on the tower that housed the sisters’ quarters, latching on to it with claws and tail. It
brought its nearest talon up to a long window, sealed with glass and lead, and smashed it quite neatly. Agent Chenlo saw the woman on its back shouting something, and then, after a moment, she leaned forward and sent a barrage of winnowfire in through the newly gaping hole. Chenlo, still staggering towards the gates, felt her skin turn cold, as though she had been doused by a great wave of seawater. It was late in the morning, and most of the sisters would be at their duties, yet she doubted very much that the tower was empty.

  Activity erupted at the chirot tower. A trio of agents mounted on bats flew out of its open roof, rounding quickly on the dragon, which was just lifting off from the sisters’ tower. Down on the ground, the doors leading to Tomas’s Walk sprung open to reveal several panicked-looking sisters, their faces smeared with soot. Behind them it was clear that the interior of the tower was ablaze, and one of them, a woman Chenlo knew as Sister Resn, ran up to her, the silver mask of her order still clutched in one hand.

  ‘You! Get up there and stop them!’

  Chenlo spared her a glance, then looked up to where the other agents were engaging the dragon. Bright orbs of green fire danced across the sky, and were met with jets of violet flame.

  ‘Have you lost your mind? That’s a dragon! They’re going to get themselves killed.’

  Sister Resn’s face turned red under the soot and her wet mouth creased with outrage.

  ‘You dare to speak to me this way, Agent Chenlo?’

  Chenlo shook her head in annoyance, unable to look away from the scene playing out around the towers. The bats were circling, brought into line by their agent riders, but it was clear they were terrified of the giant flying lizard. The dragon stopped breathing fire for a moment and surged forward, bringing its long tail around in a whip-crack movement that connected with the nearest bat, striking it from the sky. It fell out of sight, its rider struggling with the harness. The woman was still shouting, and one of the remaining two agents turned her bat and fled, heading directly out to sea. More sisters and fathers streamed out of the furnace rooms, several of them half dressed, while the dragon circled higher. One of the fathers was Father Eranis, every inch of smugness wiped from his jowly face.