Excerpt: Ever Summer

The Cross Pikes Tavern, standing as it did at the intersection of two highways, saw its share of strangers, but the fellow who strode in just before the lunch hour was stranger than most. Everything about him declared his profession, from his shaved head and meat-cleaver sword to the dragon-skin coat that brushed his heels. His pale eyes swept the place as he entered, fixed on the lone man in the back of the room with his feet propped up comfortably on the unlit hearth, and narrowed.
“Stinks of mages in here,” the dragon slayer announced, turning his back on the man. The barkeeper shot a worried glance at the man in the corner, but he gave no sign of having heard, or at least no sign he was listening. The dragon slayer watched the man’s reflection closely in the polished shield that hung behind the bar, and his mouth drooped. “I wonder you let vermin like that drink here,” he added, still staring into the shield. This time the man by the hob swung his feet off the hearth and sat up. Unlike the dragon slayer, the lone traveler’s appearance said nothing about his profession. He wore the dark, richly-embroidered clothes of a native of the far Northwest, and the plain sword leaning against the table by his elbow could have belonged to any traveler. Only his alchemist’s queue, braided with the red ribbon of royal service, set him apart from the hundreds of other wanderers who stopped and drank there.
“That’s enough. I don’t want any trouble here,” said the barman, tipping out a glass of double malt and setting it before the dragon slayer. Your everyday wizard was bad enough, but an alchemist was in a class by himself, capable of more destruction with a flick of his little finger than a wizard could manage in a lifetime. This one seemed like a reasonable fellow, but the barman much preferred him unbothered and half-asleep than awake and irritated.
“If you don’t want trouble you shouldn’t let this trash through the door,” the dragon slayer snarled. “People say I’m crazy, killing dragons, but at least I’m not mad enough to make pets of them.”
“Nor am I,” said the alchemist comfortably. He stared into the depths of his tankard as he spoke, his voice as dark and rich as the stout.
“A dragon-master who doesn’t tame dragons!” The dragon-slayer gave up all pretense of talking to the barman and turned around. “Your kind created the damned things, turned them loose to be a scourge on the land, then you leave it to people like me to suffer and die cleaning up your filthy mistakes and you act like you’ve never heard of the creatures, never mind take responsibility for them. Pah!” He spat on the floor and stood glaring at the alchemist, who continued to brood into his tankard.
“Oh, come off it, Mal,” the alchemist said, giving his draught a thoughtful swirl, and the barman’s eyes widened with shocked curiosity. “You know alchemists can’t create living creatures. That’s mages’ work. You have a beef with the Magi, take it up with the Guild.” There was a slight sizzling sound and the gobbet of spit by Mal’s boot evaporated. Mal’s lip curled, but he said nothing and turned back to the bar.
“You know that alchemist fellow?” asked the barman, keeping his voice very low in case the alchemist in question had magical ears.
“Corvis Pendrake? We’ve met, yeah.” Mal drained his glass and pushed it at the barman.
“Isn’t it a little unusual for alchemists to, ah, travel?” asked the barman, refilling the glass.
“Not when they make their living hunting their own kind.” Mal threw back his second drink and glanced around to make sure he had all his belongings.
“He hunts sorcerers?” the barman asked, throwing an alarmed look not at Pendrake, but at the sword beside him. The drowsy heat of the tavern took on a sudden chill.
“Yep. Nice fellow, isn‘t he?” said Mal. The barman pressed his lips together and said nothing. “And Corvis there is a doubly distinguished guest, don’t you know,” Mal added maliciously. “He’s the only alchemist in history to survive a Janus curse.” Mal grinned and backed toward the door. The barman stared blankly at the alchemist in the corner for a moment, then blinked back to consciousness.
“But...nobody survives a Janus curse,” he stammered. “That’s the whole point of the thing, isn’t it?”
The dragon slayer’s grin broadened. “Exactly,” he said, and walked out of the dim tavern into the summer sunshine.