[Quest of the Five Clans 01] • The Blood Tartan · Quest of the Five Clans

Centuries ago a mysterious family of mad geniuses split into five clans; feuding, hiding, hoarding their secrets of fighting and art, magic and science. Now at the dawn of the mechanical 19th century, only the five clans united can hold back the blood-red tide of industrial apocalypse.

Unless they dive into it laughing. I did say 'mad'

Rayne Gray is a cheerful, charitable bear of a man. Philosophical about his life of violence, optimistic about the dawning 19th century. A man watching for daggers in the dark, he still holds a candle for others. Alas, the wheel of fortune shifts, he is on his own, three steps from madness, two steps from arrest, one step from death. And this dance puts Rayne on the path to the Family, a mad collection of clans more deadly than any alley of assassins. And more mad than a battle in Bedlam.

But there was never a man better at keeping alive and sane, than Rayne Gray.

From the book:

She stood, placing sketch-board upon the grass. Brushing wrinkles from her skirt, dust from her behind. “Now stand, Master Gray, for I’ve a bit of wisdom for you.”

Was she taller than I’d thought? No. But the fetching quality lay shadowed by something that arched over and behind. The determined look, perhaps, inspiring the sunlight about her. “I am standing,” I pointed out. I let hand slip towards rapier-handle, casual as an itch.

“Ah, so you are.” She held up four fingers, counted upon them.

“First: never believe the dead are stronger than the living. The grave-touched draw strength from the blood and breathe of life. They scrape by on ash and embers. Tis the living that hold the flame.”

I considered these words. The theory ran sound. Only mere observation complicated the issue.

“Second,” she continued, “never believe the mad are wiser than the sane. He who makes a beast of himself, escapes the pain of being a man. And so loses the wisdom.”

Excellent. As the sanest man in ten thousand miles, I rejoiced to hear it.

“Third. Never believe a name has power. You may name the stars or waves or faces in the mirror, but they will not own you for master when you call. They are the things themselves, never the name of the thing. So also, you.”

She turned away. “Good luck to you, then.”

I blinked, feeling no wiser. “That made three. Wasn’t there a fourth?”

She stopped, spoke without turning. “Ah. Right enough. Well, fourth, then. You cannot come out this alive, Rayne Gray. Too many seek the prize you’ve set to bed. And the prize herself is a drinker of life, same as you. Can a man challenge his reflection?”