The Way Into Chaos

Praise for the books of
 

Harry Connolly

The three novels of The Great Way

The Way Into Chaos

The Way Into Magic

The Way Into Darkness

"Connolly pens one hell of a gripping tale and kicks Epic Fantasy in the head! Heroic in scope, but intimately human, and richly detailed. The Way Into Chaos intrigues and teases, then grabs readers by the throat and plunges them into desperate adventure related through the experience of two extraordinary narrators. The story never lets up as it twists and turns to a breathless finish that leaves you crying for the next book of The Great Way. Fantastic!"
 

-- Kat Richarson

"One hard-hitting, take-no-prisoners, breathtaking holy moly of a book."
 

-- C.E. Murphy

"Complex world, tight action, awesome women as well as men; Connolly was good right out the gate, and just keeps getting better."

-- Sherwood Smith

Twenty Palaces

"Connolly’s portrayal of magic — and the hints he drops about the larger supernatural world—are as exciting as ever."

 
--
Black Gate

Child of Fire

“[Child of Fire] is excellent reading and has a lot of things I love in a book: a truly dark and sinister world, delicious tension and suspense, violence so gritty you’ll get something in your eye just reading it, and a gorgeously flawed protagonist. Take this one to the checkout counter. Seriously.”
 

-- Jim Butcher

"Unique magical concepts, a tough and pragmatic protagonist and a high casualty rate for innocent bystanders will enthrall readers who like explosive action and magic that comes at a serious cost."
 

-- Starred review from
Publishers Weekly
, and one of PW's Best 100 Books of 2009

"One of the few urban magic books — for lack of a better term — novels I enjoyed last year was Harry Connolly’s Child of Fire. And I loved it.”
 

-- John Rogers, writer/producer LEVERAGE
 

“Every page better than the last. Cinematic and vivid, with a provocative glimpse into a larger world.”
 

-- Terry Rossio, screenwriter (SHREK, PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN)

Game of Cages

"Game of Cages is a tough, smart, unflinching urban fantasy novel."
 

--
Andrew Wheeler

"This has become one of my must read series."
 

--
Carolyn Cushman
, Locus Magazine

Circle of Enemies

“An edge-of-the-seat read! Ray Lilly is the new high-water mark of paranormal noir.”
 

--
Charles Stross

“Ray Lilly is one of the most interesting characters I’ve read lately, and Harry Connolly’s vision is amazing."
 

--
Charlaine Harris

Spirit of the Century Presents: King Khan

An exuberant romp that distills all the best of pulp fiction adventure into one single ludicrously entertaining masterpiece.
 

--
Ryk E. Spoor

Bad Little Girls Die Horrible Deaths and Other Tales of Dark Fantasy

Connolly writes tales of magic and mystery in more modern times incredibly well. His work reminds me a lot of Tim Powers or Neil Gaiman. I highly recommend this collection.
 

-- Jason Weisberger at
Boing Boing

ALSO BY
 

HARRY CONNOLLY

The Way Into Magic, Book Two of The Great Way

The Way Into Darkness, Book Three of The Great Way

Twenty Palaces

Child of Fire

Game of Cages

Circle of Enemies

Spirit of the Century Presents: King Khan

Bad Little Girls Die Horrible Deaths and Other Tales of Dark Fantasy

A Key, An Egg, An Unfortunate Remark

THE WAY INTO

CHAOS

Book One of The Great Way

Harry Connolly

Interior art by Claudia Cangini

Map illustration by Priscilla Spencer

Cover art by Chris McGrath

Cover design by Bradford Foltz

Book design by The Barbarienne’s Den

Copy edited by Richard Shealy

Copyright © 2014 Harry Connolly

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 0-9898284-3-3

ISBN-13: 978-0-9898284-3-7

For Lloyd Alexander, who turned me into a reader of fantasy.

T
HE
W
AY
I
NTO
C
HAOS

Book One of The Great Way

Chapter 1

Without his armor, Tyr Tejohn Treygar thought he must have looked like a man disgraced. It was ridiculous, of course; by Festival custom and royal decree, everyone went without armor today, even the guards at the gates. Still, he felt odd as he strode into the morning chill onto the promenade of the Palace of Song and Morning in the soft, slipper-like shoes Laoni had bought for him. His steps were so quiet, he felt like a sneak thief.

The queen wanted to speak to him. Again. Tejohn had not been and would not be officially summoned to the throne for an audience, but she was not a woman who would ever let anything rest. What’s more, he would never hide from her—not ever.
 

However, if he happened to be away from his chambers in the early parts of the day, he could hardly be blamed if her servants didn’t think to look for him on the lonely northern end of the promenade.

She found him anyway, of course.
 

“My Tyr Treygar,” she said as she approached, her attendants arrayed behind her like a wedge formation. “You must be chilly out here in just your shirt and waistcoat.”

He bowed. “I’m not accustomed to normal civilian clothes, my queen, let alone Festival clothes. But I’m sure I will be more comfortable when the sun has been up a while.”

She glanced at the gray sky with disapproval. It had drizzled overnight and would begin again soon. “Morning in the Morning City. Great Way, but I am looking forward to summer.” She stepped to the wall beside him and stared off into the distance, just as he had been. Her own waistcoat was made of deep red cloth woven with golden threads. Not the latest fashion, as he understood it, but still beautiful. During the Festival, even the queen wore pockets. “It will be nice to have a few days of sunshine. The mountains are so lovely in the morning, when we can see them.”

The Southern Barrier--which was north of the city but bore that name because there was another range even farther away--was sometimes visible in the morning mists. At least, that’s what Tejohn had been told. His vision was too short to see the thatched roofs of the city beyond the walls. Not that such things mattered to him.

The queen looked sideways at him, a sly smile on her face. Queen Amlian Italga wasn’t a beautiful woman, but she was intelligent, clever (not the same thing, as Tejohn had learned long ago) and relentless. When she wanted something, she didn’t give up until it was hers. The king may have been a bit of a fool in some ways, but he’d passed over the most beautiful women in the empire to choose her for his second queen. It was the wisest decision he’d ever made.
 

Which meant there was little peace for those who did not give her what she wanted.

“Have you thought about my proposal, Tejohn?”

He bowed again. It was always good to bow when you were about to disappoint royalty. “I’ve thought about little else, but I can not do it.” She scowled but did not interrupt. “I’m not being obstinate, my queen. I have worked many hours on this, but it is beyond me.”

The queen crooked her mouth as if she were addressing an obstinate child, never mind that Tejohn was three years her elder. “Beyond you? I think we both know that isn’t true.” With a lazy flick of her wrist, she gestured toward the sky cart flying westward over the city, streamers trailing behind.

Tejohn studied it as though her gesture had been a command. It was a large square wooden cart with spoked wheels. Mounted above it were the two obsidian-black disks that lifted it free of the ground.

The metal underarmor had been removed, of course, as had the rows of shields along the sides. The cask holders, designed to drop lit oil into holdfasts and other enemy camps, now bore nothing but colorful streamers. It, too, had been stripped of its armor, and it looked as odd as he must have.

Martial displays were forbidden during the Festival. The Evening People didn’t believe in conquest.

Tejohn sighed. The Gift that created the carts--and the tremendous advantage they gave the empire in the fighting on the frontiers--existed because of him and the song he’d written. And no one would let him forget it.
 

“I was a young man then,” Tejohn said softly, “and fresh to my grief. Now I’m old. I have a wife and children again. My home is a happy one.”

The queen sniffed. “Well, that would certainly not make a very moving song.” Tejohn was tempted to disagree, but of course he didn’t. “And you aren’t
that
old. The Evening People will be here for ten days. Are you
sure
you couldn’t write a sequel? Or just perform the same song again?”

It had been years since the corpses of Tejohn’s first wife and son had flashed through his memory, but they came to him then--and with them came the familiar urgency to take up his spear and start killing. “I could never revisit that pain, and you should not ask it of me.”
 

If his rebuke offended her, the queen did not show it. She squeezed his hand briefly, then stepped back. “You must feel this very deeply to speak to me that way. Tejohn, my friend, please accept my apology. Song knows you’ve always been good to Ellifer and me, and to Lar, too--not that he deserves it. We have other singers and playwrights; the king and I will have to be satisfied that our legacy will include some lesser form of new magic. Will Laoni and the little ones be joining us?”

“Laoni has taken Teberr and the twins to East Ford, to visit her cousins. They’re still so small...”