We’re thrilled to share a second excerpt from Asunder, a new standalone fantasy novel by Kerstin Hall—out from Tordotcom Publishing on August 20th. (If you missed chapter one, you can find it here!)
Karys Eska is a deathspeaker, locked into an irrevocable compact with Sabaster, a terrifying eldritch being—three-faced, hundred-winged, unforgiving—who has granted her the ability to communicate with the newly departed. She pays the rent by using her abilities to investigate suspicious deaths around the troubled city she calls home. When a job goes sideways and connects her to a dying stranger with some very dangerous secrets, her entire world is upended.
Ferain is willing to pay a ludicrous sum of money for her help. To save him, Karys inadvertently binds him to her shadow, an act that may doom them both. If they want to survive, they will need to learn to trust one another. Together, they must journey to the heart of a faded empire, all the while haunted by arcane horrors, and the unquiet ghosts of their pasts.
And all too soon, Karys knows her debts will come due.
Chapter 2
A brief sensation of intense heat swept over Karys’ skin, like her whole body had passed too close to a fire. Then it was gone. The man still gripped her arm, and now he pressed a finger to his lips. Unthinking, Karys tried to wrestle free—the creature was right behind her, she needed to run—but he held tighter. His eyes burned with a feverish light.
Quiet, he mouthed.
She raised her free hand to punch him, and he caught her wrist. He was strong, stronger than her, but his expression twisted in pain when he moved his left shoulder. With both of her arms restrained, Karys tried to kick him instead.
“Will you stop it?” he hissed. “I’m helping you.”
By now the droning threatened to split her head open, and she breathed heavily, far too loud. “Get fucked.”
“I already am.” The stranger dragged her further into the room. “Be quiet. It’s going to hear you.”
He would get her killed, torn apart like Oselaw. Karys lifted her head to glare at him, and the man met her gaze—equally desperate, equally afraid, but there was also a stubborn edge to the set of his mouth.
“Quiet,” he whispered. “Or we’re both dead.”
Karys swallowed the impulse to spit in his face, and jerked her head to the side. She nodded once, stiffly. Wasn’t like she had a choice now. Even though she had stopped struggling, the man maintained his tense grip on her arms. He transferred his gaze to the archway behind her, and Karys followed his eyes.
The stairs glowed pale blue in the Sanctum’s light, an eerie, underwater hue that bled through the walls. The hallowfire dwindled in the distance, fading to nothing, and in that darkness Karys caught sight of the faintest hint of a golden shimmer. Her stomach clenched.
The creature wove from side to side as it descended to the landing. Although it had no clear face or features, the way that it moved suggested confusion. It clearly knew that she had come this way; it was searching for her. At the archway, it paused—a dog with pricked ears. Up close, its body was almost completely transparent; if not for the lights flickering across its skin, it would have been next to invisible. It drew nearer again and stopped, listening. There were barely six feet between them now; Karys could have reached out and touched it. The man’s fingers crushed her arms.
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Asunder
The creature’s skin shimmered. Then, as if reaching a decision, it flowed backwards out of the archway. Karys stayed frozen, not daring to breathe. The creature withdrew up the stairs again. Gradually, the droning in her ears faded.
For a minute longer, neither Karys nor the man moved.
I’m not dead, she thought, dazed. It didn’t see us.
With a shiver, the man released her.
“Embrace,” he muttered. “For a second there, I thought…”
To Karys’ alarm, his eyes lost focus and he swayed. She stepped closer just as his legs gave way, letting him fall against her. He trembled, skin blisteringly hot through his clothing. Sour sweat dampened his shirt.
“Sorry.” He tried to draw away from her, but his legs buckled again. “Embarrassing.”
His voice was a strained whisper. The change in his countenance was jarring; in the low blue light, his skin appeared grey. It was as if fear alone had been holding him upright—in the absence of immediate danger, he could hardly stand. His teeth chattered.
“What’s the matter with you?” asked Karys.
The man made a dismissive gesture in the direction of the stairs. For the first time, she noticed the blood on his hands. “Call it a disagreement.”
“With one of those things?”
He nodded. Although slight, he was easily a head taller than her, and heavy. Karys awkwardly helped him to the ground. The left sleeve of his shirt was covered in blood; through a tear in the fabric she caught a glimpse of a deep gash cutting across his bicep to his shoulder.
“A violent disagreement,” she said under her breath.
“I’ll be fine, just give me a moment.”
Karys found that difficult to believe; the stranger seemed worryingly close to passing out. A thin sheen of perspiration shone on his forehead, and by the light of the hallowfire filtering through the archway, his expression seemed pained. She glanced at the passage. They needed to leave before the creature returned.
“Don’t suppose you’re part of a rescue party?” the man asked, eyes half-closed.
She shook her head. “No.”
“I didn’t think so. A shame, really.” The way he pronounced “shame” made Karys frown. He noticed. “What?”
“Going by your accent, you’re Vareslian.”
“Guilty as charged.”
“Then you aren’t a smuggler?”
He laughed softly. The sound had a hoarse quality, a dry rattle in his lungs. “No. No, I’m not a smuggler. Are you?”
She shook her head again. Now that she looked at him properly, she noticed that the stranger was well-dressed. Even though his clothing was bloodstained and streaked with grime, it seemed expensive: soft white linen and brass buckles, black cotton and tanned leather. He was probably in his early thirties: he had curling jaw-length hair, light brown skin, jewelled studs in both ears. No, not a smuggler, at least not of the type she was familiar with.
“Back there, that creature—why couldn’t it see us?” she asked.
The man grimaced. He reached into the pocket of his trousers, and pulled out a small bronze medallion on a thin chain.
“This,” he said. “It’s called a Split Lapse. Bhatuma relic, family heirloom. Inside this room, we’re suspended three days in the past.”
He held it out for her to see, and Karys leaned closer. The surface of the disk crawled with tiny letters, cramped so close together that they resembled a solid mass. Even without opening the Veneer, she could recognise it was Bhatuma-worked—those authorisation descriptions appeared wildly, dizzyingly complex. Tiny rubies studded the rim of the medallion.
“We can watch real time passing outside the bubble, but it can’t touch us.” The man closed his fist around the device, and lowered his arm. “Not unless someone noticed the Lapse and tried to break inside, in which case the stasis dimension would probably shatter. Spit us out in the present.”
Karys sat back on her heels. A relic to manipulate time, something that rare and powerful? She chewed her lip. It must be worth a fortune. “Then why should the creature hear us? If we’re outside of its time?”
The man groaned and scrunched up his face. “I was not expecting a test on this. Something about proximity? ‘Proximal overlay,’ I think. Look, the thing has some flaws.”
Karys gazed around the room, her mind still turning. The chamber was dim, and the blue light from the passage spilled their shadows long across the floor. Identical grey stone pallets ran in three rows along the length of the room. Sarcophagi, she realised. They probably housed the bodies of Lilikess’ Favoured.
“Your relic, your Split Lapse,” she said, turning back to the man, “is the dimension it generates fixed to one location?”
A faint smile, like he could guess what she was thinking. “I’ve got it fixed to this corner of the room for now, but it can be unbound and reinstated anywhere. If I turn it off.”
Her stomach fluttered. “Then could we move toward the exit in stages? Stop and re-establish the Lapse if we came too close to those creatures?”
“In theory, yes. In practice… well.” He gestured to the darkness around them. “This is about as far as I can go.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I’m dying.”
His tone was matter-of-fact and his expression perfectly serious, but Karys had the feeling he might be making fun of her—exaggerating, or telling a strange sort of joke at her expense. Yes, he looked sick, but… Her mistrust mounted as she scrutinized his face.
“You talk a lot for a dying man,” she said.
He snorted. “One of my many flaws.”
“What’s killing you, then?”
“Like I said, I had a disagreement with one of those creatures. They’re called Constructs, by the way.” He gestured to his bloodied arm. “I wasn’t fast enough, and it hit me. You’ve seen what they do to people?”
Karys nodded.
“The wound is…” A spasm in his jaw, a feeling swiftly repressed. “That’s what’s happening to me, but a little slower. The Lapse keeps me in a kind of stasis, but as soon as I return to the present, that protection falls away.”
“You left the Lapse to grab me.”
“Which hurt a lot. You’re welcome.” Using the wall behind him for support, the man sat up straighter. The effort obviously taxed him. “And that brings me to my proposition.”
“Proposition?”
“Yes.” He held out the Lapse, offering it to her. “Take it.”
Karys did not move.
“You do want to live, right?” He let the medallion dangle by its chain, swaying it from side to side like he was luring in a cat. “See the sun again?”
She could recognise a trap when she saw one. “Why give it to me? You just said you’d die if it’s turned off.”
“Well, yes. I’ve had a lot of time to think about that, considering I’ve been down here two days. There’s no reason to drag this out any longer.”
Two days? The hair lifted off the back of Karys’ neck. Two days, alone in the dark? And yet the stranger still appeared composed—in fact, he sounded almost cheerful. In her estimation, that made him either an exceptional liar or a fool, and she was not sure which was worse.
“And in exchange…?” she said.
“In exchange”—the medallion stopped swinging—“ I need you to deliver a message to the Vareslian embassy in Psikamit. Tell them that the ambassador to Toraigus has been assassinated along with her full entourage. If they want proof, they’ll find the wreckage of the ambassador’s ship in the sea caves outside this Sanctum. Tell them about the Constructs.”
Karys studied the man, not offering an answer. Liar or a fool. Or both, maybe.
“Will you do it?” he pressed. “Please?”
The Split Lapse glinted in the low light. With it, she would stand a chance of escape; she could flee back to Psikamit, bribe the embassy, probably pawn off the device to the College. It would be serious money, far more than she could earn in a year. Shit, maybe more than she could earn in ten.
She took the medallion from the man’s hand. He breathed out, a soft sigh of relief, and offered her another smile—this one more genuine. Karys did not return it.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Ferain Taliade. And yours?”
She turned over the Lapse in her palm. “How much do you think your life is worth, Ferain?”
“Is that a philosophical question, or—”
“No. If you were ransomed, how much money?”
He appeared taken aback. “Er… hard to say? I guess it would depend on my father—”
“Five thousand cret?” she said, shooting sky-high to gauge his reaction. As she had anticipated, he scoffed at the number.
“I’d like to think he doesn’t hate me that much,” he said.
Karys had been about to suggest one thousand cret before his words fully penetrated her brain, and had to stop her mouth from falling open. That’s too low?!
“Sorry.” She recovered. “Fifteen thousand?”
“I’ve got to say, your interest in this hypothetical hostage situation—”
Screw it, she thought, and closed her fingers around the Lapse.
“I’ll save your life for fifteen thousand cret,” she declared.
A moment of silence.
Ferain blinked. “Uh…”
“Or I’ll try. But you’re going to die anyway, right? So you might as well take a chance on me.” She held her hand out. “Your life for fifteen thousand cret.”
It was his turn for silence. Karys waited with bated breath, trying not to betray her anxiety. But fifteen thousand cret? That was pure lunacy; with that money, she could probably buy all of Creakers and still have change to spare. Who is this man?
“You didn’t tell me your name,” he said at last.
“Karys Eska.”
“Karys.” He repeated it slowly, like he was committing it to memory. In his accent, the consonants sounded smoother. He nodded to himself. “Tell me how you would do it.”
“Open the Veneer, re-establish the stasis dimension on the other side, then bind the Lapse to my body.” She felt like a spring under too much pressure. “If I’m right, that would tether the time-locked space to me. With you inside it.”
“Oh, you really aren’t a smuggler.” Ferain turned over the idea. “So you’re a workings practitioner?”
“No, not really. But I can perform the basics if I have to.”
“How would you access the Veneer?”
“I’m a deathspeaker.”
A ripple of unreadable emotion passed across his face.
“Oh,” he said. “I see.”
Karys suppressed her irritation at the way his tone softened. “It might backfire hideously. But if it does work, I’ll be able to get you to help.”
“It sounds like you would be the one in danger, not me.”
“For fifteen thousand cret, I’m prepared to take that chance.”
He continued to stare at her, his expression inscrutable. Karys did not waver, holding her hand out.
“You’re sure about this?” he asked.
“Certain.”
Ferain glanced down. He hesitated a moment longer, then reached out and shook on it. His skin was fever-hot and his shivering worse, but his grip remained firm.
“All right,” he said. “Deal.”
The horror of the last hour receded, overtaken by a wild surge of hope: a violent, clamouring rush of feeling. Karys was struck by the insane urge to laugh. It will be enough. More than enough. Ferain watched her face, his expression curious, and she withdrew her hand.
“All right, then.” Her voice emerged husky. She cleared her throat and brushed her hair back from her forehead, tucking the loose strands behind her ears. “In that case, let me see what I can do.”
The Veneer inside the chamber hung heavy and dark, a forest of crushed-velvet drapes. Karys tried to shut out her feelings and draw apart the weave. Focus, keep it together. Her senses skimmed the rippling surface. Although the fabric moved reluctantly, it was quieter than the beach or upper passages; the air held none of the roiling terror she had experienced earlier. The Veneer flexed and then relaxed, and she drew it open. Unreal colours bloomed in her senses; the decayed power of the Sanctum settled on the back of her tongue, sweet and dry as pressed flowers.
“Okay,” she murmured.
The fabric folded upon itself, drawing back and leaving an eerie empty hole behind, a deeper nothingness suspended in the air. She felt out its edges and moulded the absence, smoothing a space that would fit the Lapse: eight feet long, four wide, three tall. A generously sized coffin. She had never tried to leave something on the other side of the Veneer before, but it should work. Finding the object again might be a bit trickier—but if she tethered the space, then surely it would be feasible? Like dropping a stone into her pocket instead of the ocean. She guided the emptiness down to the tiled floor, settling it over Ferain.
“Okay,” she murmured again, taking a steadying breath. So far, so good. “You’ll need to stay still.”
Ferain was positioned right in the middle of the void, and clearly couldn’t feel a difference. He looked around, slightly sceptical, a little uneasy. “Sure. Got it. Anything else?”
“The sea caves you mentioned earlier—that’s how you entered the Sanctum?”
He hesitated. “Are you thinking of trying to leave that way?”
“Well, my last exit was blocked by those things.” Karys shook her head. “‘Constructs.’ I have to try something else.”
“I guess, but… be careful.” Ferain lowered his gaze. “We got caught between the sea and the Constructs while the tide was high. It was carnage.”
She could feel those deaths, muted and dull through the walls of the Sanctum. A grim guiding star to lead her out of the place. “Are you ready?”
Ferain raised his eyes again, and Karys saw that he was afraid.
A liar, then, she thought. You do want to live.
“Ready,” he said.
Karys bit the inside of her cheek and spat into her open palm. The most basic of Bhatuma-derived bindings, the simplest of workings. She pressed the warm metal of the Lapse into the blood and spittle, and clenched her fist shut.
“Hold fast,” she whispered.
The medallion scorched her skin and she had to stop herself from crying out. Beneath her fingers, the metal softened and turned to liquid bronze, then vanished as it soaked into her palm. With a click like a key turned in a lock, the Veneer snapped closed. Ferain vanished; only the dim outline of her shadow remained on the floor where he had lain.
When Karys opened her fist again, all that remained of the Lapse was a stinging circular burn. The mark sheened gold when the light touched it. She flexed her fingers, then curled them inward again. For better or worse, the relic was physically tethered to her, and Ferain with it.
Now all she needed to do was escape the Sanctum.
Excerpted from Asunder, copyright © 2024 by Kerstin Hall.
