For fans of Brent Weeks, Joe Abercrombie, Peter V. Brett, and Scott Lynch comes a fast-paced, hilarious new sword-and-sorcery series featuring two wise-cracking protagonists straight out of the golden age of epic fantasy. Once the most daring—some would say reckless—grave robbers around, Egil and Nix are now retired, having opened their own tavern with a side business as a brothel. The warrior-priest and the dashing rogue are done with adventuring. But is adventuring done with them? When two beautiful sisters run afoul of the notorious Thieves’ Guild, the semi-respectable entrepreneurs are called upon to defend their honor. And if they find an opportunity to enrich themselves along the way, no one could blame them. Soon they’re going toe-to-toe and hammer-to-skull with some of the deadliest cutthroats in town. There’s just one catch: The quest to settle this vendetta once and for all leads straight into the Blackalley, a ghostly byway that appears at random to suck unsuspecting passersby into its voracious maw. Only a fool or a madman would enter willingly. Luckily for Egil and Nix, they might just be both. Praise for the Egil and Nix novels “[Paul S.] Kemp delivers sword and sorcery at its rollicking best, after the fashion of Fritz Leiber’s Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser.” — Library Journal “Egil and Nix might not be the safest guys to go adventuring with, but they’re sure good company.” —Ed Greenwood, bestselling creator of Forgotten Realms “Did I mention how much fun Egil and Nix are? So. Much. Damn. Fun.” — Tordotcom Praise for the Egil and Nix novels “[Paul S.] Kemp delivers sword and sorcery at its rollicking best, after the fashion of Fritz Leiber’s Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser.” — Library Journal “Egil and Nix might not be the safest guys to go adventuring with, but they’re sure good company.” —Ed Greenwood, bestselling creator of Forgotten Realms “Did I mention how much fun Egil and Nix are? So. Much. Damn. Fun.” — Tordotcom Paul S. Kemp is the New York Times bestselling author of the Egil and Nix novels ( The Hammer and the Blade, A Discourse in Steel, and the upcoming A Conversation in Blood ), Star Wars: Crosscurrent, Star Wars: The Old Republic: Deceived, and Star Wars: Riptide, as well as nine Forgotten Realms fantasy novels and many short stories. He lives and works in Grosse Pointe, Michigan, with his wife, children, and a couple of cats. Chapter One Ool’s clock rang two bells, the deep gongs of the mad mage’s spire filling the quiet of the small hours. The streets were empty and the city felt like a tomb, haunted by memories of vice and violence. A cold rain fell, the heavy drops thudding like sling bullets against Nix’s drawn hood. The wind screamed through the narrow night-shrouded streets, drove the rain into horizontal sheets. Nix drew his cloak tighter about him. As always when he walked the Warrens, he dropped a copper common or silver tern every now and again, leaving them in the road for anyone to find, little seeds of hope and relief for the stricken. He had his falchion drawn, and Egil had a hammer in each fist, though the precaution appeared unnecessary. Only fools walked the streets of Dur Follin on this night, at this hour, and the denizens of the Warrens were desperate, but not fools. When the clock of Ool rings three bells, And Minnear glows full and dire. Walk not the streets, but fear the Hells, Or lose your life entire. ’Ware the alley that comes in black. For souls once lost, ne’er come back. Nix recalled the rhyme from childhood, probably everyone in Dur Follin did. He thought he’d actually seen Blackalley once, as a boy. It had been just after the third hour, deep in the night, and he’d marked a fat teamster for a purse lift. The man had staggered through the dark streets singing a mournful, drink-slurred dirge. Nix had followed, waiting for the right moment, and then . . . he’d felt something, a deepening in the air is how he thought about it in hindsight, and a wash of profound sadness. The teamster’s song had died and Nix had seen the man standing before the mouth of a narrow alley, an alley so dark Nix could not see even a step into it. The teamster mumbled something—Nix thought he might have been crying—and stepped into the alley. Nix had blinked, just once, and the deepening of the air, the sadness, the teamster, and the darkness were gone. He’d run back to Mamabird’s home after that and had never ventured into the streets at that hour again. Until tonight. He shook his head and put the memory from his mind. “We should look in on Mamabird,” Egil said. Mamabird, obese, ancient, and lovely, had been taking in groups of urchins for decades, feeding them, housing them, loving them. She’d saved Nix from a short, brutal life on the street, and he loved her as if she were his mother. Egil did, too. Everyone did. “Tomorrow,” Nix said, and left unsaid what he knew both of them were thinking. If we have a tomorrow. The rain and damp raised the stink