Memory and Magic comes out in 4 days! And to celebrate that here is a short excerpt of the first chapter.
Memory and Magic
By D. M. Beucler
Chapter 1
On the other side of the west gate was a third of Tamsin Saer’s rent money. If she could pass through it. The dozen blue-coated guards who manned the checkpoint, fidgeting with their muskets, were supposed to keep the parolees from Kingsgate gaol within the confines of the Narrows, the outer ring of the three-walled city of Celdre. In practice the gate guard turned away a handful of people, more or less randomly, every day. On the other side of the wall the limestone facade would be polished, but here a layer of soot and grime stained everything a murky grey-brown. To the left of the arched, iron gateway hung a lone gibbet, its contents far from fresh. The sign swaying from the corpse’s feet said, ‘blood mage’.
Tamsin settled her willow laundry basket on her hip. At least the cold kept the smell down. Rent money, she reminded herself. Slush soaked into her turn leather shoes. They needed re-waxing, but at three copper pennies for the service, it was too dear. Winter was not releasing its hold easily this year; it was at the second week of Spring, yet almost a yard of snow had barricaded the streets only a few days before.
“We was nearly without wood,” the Granny ahead of her complained. Tamsin noted bands of silk ribbon at the hem of the old woman’s dress – badly dyed silk, the colours were already bleeding into the wool beneath it. The woman must have just come into some money then, or she’d know which vendors cheated the Narrows folk in the Merchants’ Ring. Perhaps one of the Bluecoat agents sent to spy on the Narrows? Failing to secure an audience ahead of
her, the old lady turned back to Tamsin.
“My John had to go out in the worst of it and buy coal from the upper docks and mark my words there will be another snowfall before the week’s out.”
Tamsin couldn’t quite keep the scorn off her face. Coal, down here? That was sloppy. Shipping coal in was ten gold sovereigns a wagon load. Even Tamsin’s landlord, the baker, burned wood, and during the worst of the storm when no one was buying bread, he’d let his ovens grow cold. Tamsin had burned through her own small supply of fuel waiting the storm out.
Whoever this woman was, she had no friends here. Tamsin shifted a half step back. The woman noticed and her face pinched in at the cheeks.
The man ahead of them turned in his spot.
“Shut it. My sister lost her youngest to the cold, last storm.” His voice had a familiar anger. The old woman snorted.
“Shouldn’t have been so careless with the fuel then.” She glared at the man.
Someone yelled “shut up,” from the back of the line. There was a dangerous rumble of voices. One of the gate guards stepped out of his post, musket in hand. The crowd’s anger compressed to a tiny mutter of fear. The woman tried to meet Tamsin’s eyes, uncaring of the guards or the anger building around her. When she failed to get a second rise from the crowd, the woman fell silent and the line inched forward again.
As she edged closer to the royal blue coats of the guards Tamsin tensed. Her fingers beat out a frantic tattoo on her basket edge. She stilled them. The old woman passed through the great arch, under the gleaming brass of the cannon ports set into the wall, then it was her turn. Tamsin sucked in a deep breath and tried to smile.
“Name, occupation, and reason for entry?” the guard asked. He sounded bored. He accepted her work papers without glancing at them.
“Anna. I’m bringing fresh linens to the Emirya Theater. I’m a laundress.” Her voice stayed steady. She tried to keep her eyes on him. Some of it was true, she thought. The forged papers Lacey had given her changed only her name and age.
He dug down through her basket, rumpling the crisp folded linen shirts. Inwardly Tamsin seethed. Elspeth wouldn’t be happy if his grease- and gunpowder-stained fingers left marks. The guard pressed down on the bottom of the basket, no doubt hoping she’d let it slip. She dug her fingers into the broken willow branches and set her jaw. He rolled his eyes, tossed her papers on top of it all, and waved her through.
Only a few steps to safety. The prisoner brand on her shoulder seemed to throb in time with her heartbeat.
She was a half a step from the far side when a different Bluecoat called out to her.
“A moment. I know your face,” he said. His musket was no longer quite resting on his shoulder. Tamsin froze.
“I come through this gate twice a week. More when the Emirya’s shows run close together.” Gods, don’t let him look through the papers again. Whoever Lacey had cadged the papers from had an eccentric view of spelling. She ran the Bluecoat’s face through her memory. His tanned jaw was shaved now, he was older, but so was she. She pulled her battered straw bonnet down over her loose, dark curls. He frowned at her, then his companion leaned over and said something sharp and unintelligible.
Annoyance crossed the first guard’s face. Without looking at the second guard he pointed into the Merchants’ Ring.
“Move it along then or we’ll cite you for holding up the traffic.”
Tamsin bobbed a curtsy while backing away. Despite the chill, a rivulet of sweat dripped down between her shoulder blades. She wormed her way into a cluster of people. Blend, she thought. Her heart was beating loudly enough they could probably still hear it back at the gate.
No one seemed to be following her. As soon as the gate was out of sight she ducked into a shop doorway.
Preorders are open now at the links below:
https://www.lunapresspublishing.com/shop
https://bookshop.org/beta-search?affiliate=287&source=IndieBound&ref=IndieBoundSearch&keywords=D.+M.+Beucler
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/memory-and-magic-d-m-beucler/1147646594
https://www.amazon.com/Memory-Magic-D-M-Beucler/dp/191555666X