Lyorn - Steven Brust

You'll always get me with a new work by Steven Brust. He has a sharp eye for the human condition, a real talent for snark, a penchant for saying interesting things, and a tendency to play around with the format of his stories to see what works. From the period-stylings of The Khaavren Romances to the thriller beats of The Good Guys, there's an impressive range there. But the heart of it, for me, is Vlad Taltos, and the saga of the Jhereg. Taltos has been a lot of things. Thug. Killer. Father. Fugitive. And we've seen him weave in and out of his story, switching point sin his personal timeline with him, picking up the pieces that fall off the stories he tells, trying to work out what's been happening, and what's coming next. We've seen the younger man planning murders, the older one standing in the ruins of his marriage, and the, ahem, even older one, rebuilding his life in a world that still isn't built for him, in an Empire that hates him for who he is, with gods playing the long game, friends with their own problems (like being an immortal vampire sorceress) and, well, you know, all those people trying to kill him.

Which is where Lyorn comes in. Vlad is back, baby. Back in Adrilankha, city by the sea, where he used to run a medium-sized criminal operation, and occasionally kill people. Back in the Empire of Dragaera, run by seven foot tall elves with access to sorcery, who regard him as a short-lived inconvenience. Back in close proximity to old friends, old loves, and old enemies. And, it turns out, in a theatre. The theatre is where he's hiding out, due to the aforementioned old enemies, while a few deals go down which, hopefully, keep him alive. And, in traditional Vlad style, he can't resist poking into other people's problems - or they can't resist involving him. The theatre itself is beautifully built. Every line adds some texture, some history, tells you about stories, about drama, about why the players company exists, who they are, what they need - and why being able to tell their stories, to live their needs, is important. Not just for them, but for everyone. For individuals, and Empires. Because stories have power, especially the ones we tell ourselves. Look at Vlad, who has reinvented himself more times than I have hats, who now just wants to build a life. Look at him as he walks through a theatre, sword at his hip, Jhereg on his shoulders, righting wrongs almost by reflex, and doing it because it's not just the right thing to do, but the necessary thing.

And that's before those old enemies come into play, getting rather aggressive in their efforts to drag him out of hiding.

At this point in the Jhereg series, you're either starting fresh here, or asking if this one is worth the investment you put into the previous books in the series. If you're coming in new. Hmm. Vlad is smart and funny and oblique, and has a lot of old friends you may not be familiar with. Sit with him as he figures out, from inside a theatre-shaped bottle, how to save his friends and himself without dying first. You're going to see some high quality schemes, some delightful banter, and occasional bouts of knife-edge action. If you're coming in as a fan though...you're probably starting to see different pieces of Vlad's past falling into place. You can see a larger game that's been playing out across the entire series and is starting to come to fruition. But you'll also see a familiar, late-period Vlad, still struggling to figure out who he is, but absolutely determined not to let anyone else tell him either. A man accustomed ot action, now having to acclimatise himself to thinking, planning, and patience. Being the person holding the blade, and not the tip of the blade itself. Lyorn is a story about the law, and about honour, and about what society is willing to accept and what it isn't - and it's a story about saving lives and yourself.

In short, it's a Taltos story, and a really good one, at that. If you're unfamiliar, give it a try (or go read Jhereg!). If you're a fan - yes, you're going to want this one.

Saevus Corax Gets Away With Murder - K.J. Parker

Honestly, how very dare they? K.J. Parker put out an entire trilogy in the last few months of 2023, firing them off at a rapid pace while, frankly, also firing on all cylinders. We looked at the first two books last year, and thought that they were vintage iterations on Parker's signature style - darkly humorous, intelligent but ruthless interlocutors, and a rich, deeply detailed world that feels very real. And I'm here to tell you that they've done it again. Saevus Corax is back, and so is K.J. Parker.

Saevus continues to be, well, who they've always been. A wry, apologetic protagonist, who refuses to flinch away from the decisions they make, even when those decisions are appalling, or selfish, or sometimes both. Saevus Corax is not a very nice man. But he's charming, and very, very clever - sufficiently so that most of his ideas look like they're the right thing to do, when you get down to it. And if they're a multi-layered shell game with a gambit buried on a gambit buried on a gambit - well, surely this time you've figured out what he's up to. Surely this time you won't be the collateral damage in his life. And sometimes...sometimes that's true. Sometimes you're going to make some money and walk away clean, And sometimes a very apologetic man is going to have to rip your throat out with his teeth, as step fifteen of an escape plan that's step forty of a plan to take over an Empire that's step ninety in a plan to be left alone. Because that reads like Corax, to me. He always says he wants a quiet life, but he's always surrounded by forces that act on him, that force his agency. He claims this of course, but whether he could get what he wanted in other ways, who knows. Maybe he wants answers, maybe he wants an ending. It's...an opaque question, even if this story lifts the veil on it somewhat. We've known since the first book that Corax is defined by an interstitial moment, when he killed his brother., Possibly accidentally. Even he isn't sure. Whether that matters, well, it matters to him. Maybe trying to find a way out of that moment is what's get Corax in the whirlpool, stopping him from cutting his throat or meditative retreat - because he wants to know, or at least, to decide, who he is, and that moment is clouded enough that it's hard to say for sure. Much like the person surrounding it, that killing is arcane, occluded. Well, here's some more of the story of the past and the now, showing us who Corax used to be, and, well deciding who he is now.

All of this is done against a backdrop of, if not war, at least not yet, then simmering tensions coming to a boil. Corax has been at the right place the right time in the last few books, keeping civilisation away from catastrophe mostly as a means of preserving his own skin. But time rolls on, and people just can't seem to keep themselves away from a good civilisation-shattering roar. And maybe Corax doesn't want to, need to, stop this one. In part that's due to his own connections - the antagonistic, business-like friendships and camaraderie he shares with his gang of salvagers, always shocked they'll come back for him, unless they don't. Are they really friends? Or just looking out for the same Big Score?  And the same applies to his ongoing friendship and occasional murderous rivalry with a competitor. Is she a colleague? A friend? Something more? Likely to slit his throat in the night to save herself or make a pile of gold? Or save him from a mob and walk away empty handed from the deal of a lifetime? Or all of these. Something Parker does well is lay out complex, grounded personalities, and not tell us too much, letting us try and peer at their motives and their truths through a half-darkened glass, as unsure of what they're doing as they are themselves. 

This is Corax's swan song, and it's really rather well done. The stakes ramp up quickly, and the sense of being at the bottom of a hill and hearing the advancing rumble of an avalanche is an unnervingly apposite one. This is a story that'll pull you close, hammer a blade into your heart, then wish it hadn't had to do it while emptying your pockets. This is a smart story, an emotionally complex, very personal story about a man who may save or damn the world, while trying to find out who he is. And it's funny and bloody and sometimes so sharp you might cut yourself. If you've come this far with Saevus Corax, I can only say that you must see him through to his ending - it's worth it.