Anyway. Kinch. Kinch is a thief. Very explicitly a thief. Employed by a Guild, who amongst other things, illicitly train people to become better thieves. And also, conveniently, charge them a large sum of money in order to do so. A debt which can be brutally, magically enforced. Kinch is charming, thoughtful, romantic, and also opportunistic and ruthless. The Guild, on the other hand are, if I can be permitted the odd expletive, a grey-faced band of total arseholes, whose weapons-grade corporate malevolence only becomes slightly more obvious in the person of their magical assassin enforcers. Kinch, something of an independent spirit, is not one of the Guild's favourite people - and they aren't any friend of his. But as long as he keeps paying off his debt, he's got the chance for that one big score that will leave him free and clear.
Which, for Kinch, would be a novelty. He's part of an expansionist power that still sees his recently conquered people as an underclass. That power is in a state of near-perpetual war with, well, goblins. Not the squishy, chaffy goblins you see loitering around other books either; these goblins are monstrous. So on the one hand there's a state which has conquered you in order to use your manpower and resources to propagate its war. And on the other hand, that war is one of survival in the face of an enemy which regards people as something roughly akin to cattle, and has already launched several invasions in living memory in order to fill its larders. So, you know, Kinch isn't having a great time.
But for all his lows, Kinch is fun. He's self aware, and incisively witty. He can also be surprisingly vulnerable, even while he's figuring out whether he's sincere in his own right. And if he's not exactly a hero, he is innately sympathetic, someone struggling to get out from under the varied thumbs of The Man. Between that and his penchant for the odd knife-fight and desire to just, well, keep out of things, the protagonist is in a similar boat to the reader, the winds of fate blowing him just where he doesn't want to go.
Which is a disservice really. Because I can't quite capture what it is that comes off the page when you read it in his voice. Possibly its that he has one, or that its shifts from cynical detachment to a kind of deep truth via bursts of existential horror in a way that feels very real. Kinch isn't the mighty-thewed barbarian hero, in fact he'd probably not know a thew at fifty yards, but then again, neither are we. And like us, he comes across as complicated, as a bubbling stew of past mistakes and remembered triumphs, a gumbo of regrets and passion. Buehlman has a real eye for character work, and his protagonist here just...comes off the page, and starts shaking you down for a beer somewhere around the third page, eerily reminiscent of that uncle who still owes you a twenty from ten Christmases ago, but he made you laugh so you're happy never to see it again as long as you see him again.
Suffice to say, this is Kinch's story, and it has some...moments. He's about to meet someone who will change his world. Expand it, destroy it, that's a little more unclear. But, to take a moment, what a world it is. There's the high level stuff, of course, a clash of empires that's also a clash of species who regard each other as food animals or inhuman monsters, respectively. But there's also a raw energy and worn texture to the whole thing, from the part-reconstructed buildings in cities recovering from war, to sublte (and less subtle) magic and its wielders running around and doing, well, horrible things to each other (and sometimes people around them). There's people just trying to live their lives, and there's monsters, human and otherwise, in the woods and in the mountains. There's a history to this world, told in the lost fingers, in the empty places at the hearth, told in the way that women significantly outnumber men, and in the number of those women who carry injuries - and what that looks like for societies which you can feel struggling to adapt away from a male-centric model of power. There are old tragedies writ small if we look around , because they've been placed artfully there for us to see. And it's done in a space that feels like it exists, just one ocean over, and a little in a dream - or a nightmare.
What I'm saying is, the worldbuilding is bloody good.
The story...well, I can't comment on it without spoilers, honestly! But I will say that it spends a while laying deep groundwork, which it rewards with some beautifully set up emotional results, with resolutions that left me feeling raw, and bloody, like someone coming away from an attempted murder. But also a little lighter, like someone hearing horses in the early morning light. That's the story. It's high stakes, it's tightly plotted and kinetically paced, and honestly I powered through it over a couple of nights and was desperate to reach the end but also very sad to have finished it.
So yeah, this is a good one - go pick up a copy!
