This is a fantasy.
Of a City of water and glass. Of drowned things and lost memories lying just below its surface. Of concrete slums, and a decaying Oracle Tower. And a deep underground.
It is also a fantasy of orphan children. Like Dagny Losh. She is an escape artist. Not a chosen profession but a survival tactic, thrust upon her at a young age to break free from poverty and violence, fever and flood. While others perished, Dagny emerged into a privileged world of polished brass gates and opportunity. But she is an imposter, a misfit in fine clothes. Perfumed with dirty fingernails.
Now, at seventeen, Dagny remains rudderless and lonely. Longing for a connection to a changing world. What she finds is a fragment of her old life, before the river washed everything away. A fragment once thought forever lost. And it will take all she has to protect it.
This is a fantasy.
Of a City of water and glass. Of drowned things and lost memories lying just below its surface. Of concrete slums, and a decaying Oracle Tower. And a deep underground.
It is also a fantasy of orphan children. Like Dagny Losh. She is an escape artist. Not a chosen profession but a survival tactic, thrust upon her at a young age to break free from poverty and violence, fever and flood. While others perished, Dagny emerged into a privileged world of polished brass gates and opportunity. But she is an imposter, a misfit in fine clothes. Perfumed with dirty fingernails.
Now, at seventeen, Dagny remains rudderless and lonely. Longing for a connection to a changing world. What she finds is a fragment of her old life, before the river washed everything away. A fragment once thought forever lost. And it will take all she has to protect it.
Dagny had only one thing on her mind as she raced down the stairs: finding a place to hide.Â
Sheâd forgotten how dark it was in the basement. Faint light from the garden outside streamed in through dirt-caked windows, but did little to illuminate the steps. So she ran her hand along the stone wall for guidance, trying not to stumble.
It had been years since she was down here last. Passages, crowded with stacks of crates and furniture, branched off in all directions. Dagny stopped only for a moment before deciding on a path. She needed to move, away from the stairs, or sheâd be seen as soon as someone opened the doors.
The girl knew they would be coming for her. The Hunters. There seemed to be dozens of them this time. Swarming the gardens above. Stomping through the flower beds. She hoped they would search the house first, or the yard out back. She hoped she had fooled them, at least for the moment.Â
Only hours before, Dagny had sat quietly in the Rork library, trying to study the works of dead men. She found it impossible to focus on those things, however, and soon enough her mind began to wander until she just couldnât sit anymore. If sheâd been a normal girl, dedicated to her schooling, sheâd still be there, secure in the library's reading room. But the afternoon had called, drawing her into the open air. And nowâŚ
Dagny ducked underneath a gauntlet of crisscrossing chair legs, and brushed alongside rough wooden boxes, navigating the labyrinth of storage containers. They were marked with cryptic descriptions such as Mortiers â82 and The Vahnland - Black Spring. Likely references made by Alex of prior campaigns, but she couldnât be certain.
The basement really was enormous. Much too big for the house above. Stepping over fallen trinkets and pushing through cobwebs, Dagny finally reached the far wall and scanned the shadows. A thick layer of dust coated everything. No one had been this way for a long time. She was glad of that. It felt comfortable in the darkness, and there were plenty of hiding spots where she could wait for the sun to set. She just needed to find the right one.
Moving onward, Dagny came upon a large painting, turned on its side and leaning against the back wall. It was lit by a single beam of sunlight, specks of dust dancing in the glow. A large accidental tear split the middle, and the paint had begun to fade even before it was placed here, but Dagny could still make out the regal, peaceful lion postured in front of his jungle court. Two monkeys, dressed as knights, flanked the lion king as an assortment of beasts came to pay him tribute. The animals looked comical and self-conscious in their clothes. The armor was too big for the monkeys and the crown hung loose on the lionâs head.Â
Dagny smiled at the king like an old friend. Sheâd forgotten he was here. Growing up, when Alex would leave for weeks on end, Dagny would stay with his grandfather and she would pass this painting several times a day from its place in the old manâs great room. As a little girl, she used to hope the Lionâs Court was a real place she could visit someday.Â
Dagny sat quietly on the floor, in the shadows near the painting, and waited. The sweat that had soaked her orange dress was already beginning to dry. Sheâd been running hard in the afternoon heat, a mix of nerves and excitement brought on by the hunt. But it was cool down here, among the pale stone, even in the summertime.Â
It should be easy enough to vanish for awhile. The place was practically built for it. Dagny had heard that generations ago, elegant tunnels connected the neighborhood to an underground road leading to City Centre, so that residents could move around in secret. She wondered if this had all been part of those lost tunnels, sealed off a long time ago.
Suddenly, the doors above creaked open, breaking the silence, and a strained voice echoed across the chamber.
âOh ghoulie⌠Youâre down there, arenât you?â
Dagny tried to slow her breathing and sit perfectly still. Someone mustâve seen her running toward the basement. Theyâd be listening now and if they heard her moving about, one of them would block the entrance while the others tried to flush her out. Sheâd wait and hope to draw the whole group down. And once they started clomping around, bumping into chairs and boxes, sheâd be free to move again.
Other voices whispered near the top of the stairs, but she couldnât tell what they were saying. After a moment a different one called out, âGhoulie⌠Weâre coming for you!â
To stay calm, Dagny focused on the painted lion. What did I call you back then? I had names for your entire court, didnât I? Sheâd even come up with her own stories for the kingâs animal heroes. Adventure stories, like the ones her brother told.Â
The coatâŚ
It was down here, too. Wasnât it? Hidden inside a weathered chest with cracked leather straps, but she couldnât remember where. The coat itself she saw clearly. Handsome and long; made of waxed canvas; green and black; well-worn and reinforced at the elbows. In her mind, the collar stood tall to block out the wind, and was lined with soft brushed cloth.Â
At one time, the coat had been Dagnyâs most treasured possession. She would sleep in it every night as a child, covering her head to shut out the world. The coat fit well on her brother, Morgan, but hung so loose on Dagnyâs small frame back then that the hem would drag on the floor like a cape, and she would have to roll the sleeves over several times just to get her hands free.Â
Her brother wore it on his travels, and she pictured him in it now. Commanding and mysterious. Romantic and roguish. Smiling, with friendly sea-green eyes.
After Alex married Caternya and they moved into the house above, with the pruned garden and quiet cobblestone street, the coat eventually found its way into the chest along with what was left of Morganâs memory, and vanished in the basement.Â
Something toppled over in the passage to her left. There was a panicked cry, and the quick shuffling of feet.
âShe didnât come this way,â a young girl said.Â
âYou donât know her like I do. Sheâs tricky. Probably listening to us right now,â a boy replied.Â
Dagny slowly got on her hands and knees and crawled further along the outer wall, away from the voices.Â
A boat. Iâm sure the chest is under an old river boat, she thought.Â
âDag!â A boy cried in frustration. âAre you down here or not?!â The voice was distinct. Lucas. Alex and Cateâs oldest child was leading this group.
Dagny crawled over a toppled crate and a pile of mold-specked books. A worn copy of Vittendorfâs travelogue All These Places caught her eye, and she picked it up and stuffed it down her dress.Â
âShh⌠I heard something,â Lucas said from somewhere nearby. âOver there. Spread out.â A dozen little feet answered his order, pattering out in all directions.Â
There was probably at least an hour until sunset, but Dagny still had every intention of winning the game. She just needed to avoid being caught until dark. It was one sheâd played many times growing up, Hunters and the Hunted. At seventeen, she couldâve easily told herself she was too old to be playing such things, but what else was she going to do today? Study? Her schooling would be over in a few short weeks. What did any of it really matter? Besides, if she won the game, then the neighborhood children would crown her Queen Huntress. A title sheâd hold until she lost a hunt. And if she was caught, sheâd become one of the captured. Dagny wasnât quite sure what that meant these days. She didnât plan on finding out.Â
Except⌠her mind was becoming more focused on the coat. What if she couldnât find it? Could the coat be lost? The panic came on so sudden and strong it frightened her. Without another thought, Dagny stood up and ran down the passage.Â
A younger boy screamed with excitement. âItâs her! Get her!â
It didnât make any sense. Dagny hadn't seen the coat for years. But she knew right then that sheâd never forgive herself if it was gone.Â
Someone tripped over the books behind her, tumbled, and started to cry.Â
âHeâll be fine! Keep going!â Another one shouted.Â
A dart board, covered in webs, came into view. It looked familiar. Sheâd come this way before, a long, long time ago. Her pace quickened. She was close.
Dagny cut down a passage of high shelves that stretched almost to the ceiling. Children ran on the other side of it, peeking at her through the narrow spaces between boxes. They called to her, but she didnât answer. Then she saw it. Against the far wall was the chest, tucked underneath a small river skiff that hung from two heavy chains in the ceiling.
She ran forward, ignoring the children approaching from multiple directions, and lifted the lid.
Lucas was the first one to reach her. He stopped several feet away and stared wide-eyed.Â
âWow, whereâd you get that?â he asked. He was dressed like a dapper little prince, but his face was dirty with dried sweat.Â
âDo you like it?â Dagny asked, pulling her arm through the coat sleeve. âIt was my brotherâs. He used to wear it on his adventures with your father.â
Lucas nodded his head excitedly. âYou look like a pirate king.â
Dagny reached down and ruffled his hair. âI know you never met my brother, but he would have loved you.â
The other children had caught up to them now. Behind Lucas was his younger sister, Abrielle. She wore an expensively tailored blue and yellow skirt, and her honey-brown hair was braided with ribbons. Half a dozen other children from Old Rork approached cautiously from both sides.
âYou lost!â A scrawny, blond-haired boy yelled.Â
âDid I?â With a flourish, Dagny spun around and leapt onto a nearby shelf, scrambling over the top before any of the children could react.Â
âHey! Thatâs not fair!â one of them screeched.Â
ââGet her!â cried a girl.Â
ââWe caught you! You lost!â
âNo one touched me,â Dagny shouted back. She dropped onto the floor and sprinted to the basement stairs. There was a murmur behind her.
âIs that true?â
ââNo one got her?â
Dagny leapt up the stairs, slammed the basement doors and ran into the sun. She skirted around the large, white-plastered house and past two small children sitting in the mud by the garden pond. They pointed at her, mouths wide open. Dagny was laughing hysterically by the time she entered through the kitchen door.Â
She had lived with Alex Benzara since she was a little girl. The better part of eight years. In the beginning, it had been just the two of them, but now the house was full and would be getting even more crowded in a few short months. The thought made her anxious, and Dagny pushed it out of her mind.
The door slammed closed behind her. Caternya stood by the stove, tasting soup from a large kettle, and shot her a quick glance, while the Benzaraâs cook furiously chopped onions and carrots nearby.Â
Alexâs wife was one of the most beautiful women Dagny had ever seen. Slim with dark eyes. She took to wearing tailored skirts and stylish jackets, even around the house. Even now, pregnant with their third child. Alex had met Cate shortly after discovering the Prize at Oulen, a sunken treasure ship that rested in the shallow delta of that river. Caternya looked like she was descended from the same aristocratic folk who wouldâve owned the drowned ship. Dagny was wild-haired and weedy, pale with an overbite.Â
âThatâs a nice coat,â Cate said casually, barely looking up at her.Â
âThanks,â Dagny replied, sucking down air. âI hadnât worn it for a long time, Iâm surprised it fits like thisââ
âLucas! Abrielle!â Cate called out the open kitchen window. âWhere are they? Werenât they with you?â
âYes. Donât worry. Theyâre coming,â Dagny said dramatically.Â
Cate focused on the simmering pot. âPlease tell them that dinner will be ready soon, and make sure theyâre clean.â
âSure,â Dagny said. But instead of walking back outside to deliver the message, she stepped through the kitchen, into the adjacent hallway, and tiptoed toward the study.
Alex sat at his desk smoking a pipe, as Dagny slipped in and ducked behind the doorway.Â
âHiding from the children?â he joked.Â
âKind of.â
âI thought you were studying at the library.â
âNo.â
Alex smiled and gestured at her. âWell look at that, Morganâs old coat.â
Dagny smiled back. She enjoyed being around Alex, even if they didnât talk much anymore. He was always busy it seemed, and although still a relatively young man, Alex appeared more haggard these days. Especially when sitting at a desk.Â
âThat coat suits you now,â Alex continued. âWhat made you look for it?âÂ
Dagny shrugged. âIâm not sure. We were playing down in the basement, and I just remembered it. I donât know why.â
âSometimes things just happen like that. Itâs strange how the mind works.â Alex glanced down at an open ledger.
Dagny heard the kitchen door open and Caternya shout something. Lucas came thundering down the hallway and burst into the study. He exchanged glances with Alex before turning around and spotting Dagny against the wall.Â
âThere you are! Youâre caught!â he said, a look of smug satisfaction on his face.Â
âReally Lucas? Youâre gonna turn me over to the hunters?â Dagny asked him, smiling sweetly.Â
The boy hesitated. âItâs just a game.â
âBut still, donât you want me to be the Queen Huntress?âÂ
âHmm, let me think about it.â Lucas plopped down in a heavy cushioned seat.
âYou can be my champion.â
âOkay.â
âHa. Thereâs some negotiating for you,â Alex said, still looking through his papers.
âSo, what kind of adventures did they have?â Lucas asked her.Â
âWho?â
âDad and your brother. You said they had adventures together.â
âOh⌠right⌠all kinds. When I was your age, Morgan would come home and tell us all about the latest one. Sometimes weâd stay up until the sun rose. He would wear this very coat and act out the stories for us.â
âLike what? Tell me.â
Dagny thought about it for a moment. There were so many stories, hundreds of them. Sheâd probably forgotten more than she remembered. âWell, let me think.â
Lucas just looked at her with his wide, innocent eyes.
âOkay. Iâll tell you one of my favorites.â She leaned closer to him and lowered her voice. âThis one time, they were sailing across the IlvarâŚâ
Lucas had a confused look on his face. âWhatâs that?â
âThe Ilvar is a sea far to the west. They had gone there chasing rumors of Avilys, a fabled glass castle that only appeared once every hundred years. Everyone doubted it existed. The shipâs crew had taken the same route many times before, and swore there was nothing. Only on this particular day, as the sun began to set, they came upon an island covered in mist, and as they sailed closer, the mist began to clear⌠there on the cliffs was the great castle of glassâŚâ
âIs that true?â Lucas asked his father.
âItâs true, alright. But I like the way Dag here tells it.â As soon as Lucas looked away, Alex gave her a wink.
Abrielle had snuck into the study while they talked and sat on a chair in the corner. She wore only one shoe and kicked her bare foot, now covered in mud, while grinning at Dagny. Abrielle was clearly baiting her to ask about the missing shoe, and when Dagny didnât take the bait, the girl started humming loudly.Â
Lucas glared at his sister. âCan you be quiet please? Iâd like to hear the story, thank you very much.â
Abrielle snarled, but stopped humming.Â
âGood. Please proceed,â Lucas said, acting very formal and dignified.Â
Before Dagny could continue, however, Caternya came into the room, sighing heavily. âNo one thought to invite me to the gathering?â
âSorry, it wasnât planned,â Lucas said.Â
âGo on and clean yourself up, please.â
âBut mother, Dagny is telling me about the glass castle,â Lucas said.
âIâm sure it will still be there when you get back.â
Lucas pouted, and stepped off into the nearby hallway.
âThank you, dear,â she called after him, dropping into Lucasâ seat. âIâm absolutely exhausted. I really wish I wasnât the only one who had to chase the children around and make sure everything is in order.â
âIâm almost finished here,â Alex said, motioning to the stacks on his desk.Â
âIt sounded like you were very busy,â Cate said.Â
âSorry, itâs my fault,â Dagny said. âWe were playing in the basement and ââ
ââAbrielle! Where is your shoe?! Youâre absolutely filthy.â Caternya sprung up with renewed energy, lifted the girl and carried her into the hall. Abrielle squealed and flailed her limbs the whole way out. âThis is too much, really! I canât handle everything,â Cate continued, her voice trailing off down the hallway. Alex chased after them, leaving Dagny alone in the study.Â
She didnât feel like eating dinner tonight. Instead, Dagny climbed the main staircase leading to her bedroom, thinking about Morganâs story of Avilys. She remembered huddling with her younger sister, Gretchen, in their old tenement building, as Morgan recounted the castle and his escape from the black-eyed princess of glass.
Dagny's bedroom here at the Benzara house was massive and elegantly furnished. A large feather-stuffed bed with embroidered silk sheets rested in the middle of the room, and a glass-paned door opened onto a balcony, which overlooked a private courtyard. Far beyond the peaked rooftops of Old Rork, Dagny could see the spires and domes of the City Centre.Â
She walked over to a gilded mirror in the corner and admired herself in Morganâs old adventuring coat. I do look like a pirate king, she thought. Much better than the delicate dresses and skirts that filled her closet. She felt like an imposter wearing those. A misfit in fine clothes. Perfumed with dirty fingernails. She was from the Rakesmount Tenements. And in some ways, it seemed like she never truly left.Â
Eight years had passed since she lived there, before running off forever. The building that she was born into was narrow and wild, crowded with an assortment of cousins and half-siblings. Their mother, distant and cold, was like a ghost in her memory, and the man who ran the tenement, the one they called Uncle Finkel, was an ogre.Â
If there was one thing that stood out in Dagnyâs mind about the Rakesmount, it was the wetness of the place. The moisture, mud and rot crept into everything. When she came to live with Alex across the river, it seemed as if the perpetual rains of her early childhood just stopped. The streets on this side were paved and clean, the gardens well-kept, the brass and iron gates polished. She knew there was much to be grateful for. Alex and Cate had provided her with everything she needed, really. The best tutors and wonderful meals. She had shared events and celebrations with plenty of other children. Yet somehow, she always felt alone.Â
Standing in front of the mirror, Dagny caught herself biting her fingernails. It was a habit she was keenly aware of and had tried to break, but when she became distracted it was instinctive and there was no helping it. When Dagny was a little girl, sheâd always be playing in the garden or climbing up trees, and her nails were always dirty. Caternya would be absolutely horrified whenever she caught Dagny chewing on them. Dagny would act ashamed, but inside sheâd find Cateâs reaction hilarious. It would take all the willpower she had not to burst out laughing. For the longest time, sheâd chew them right in front of Cate just to see her expression. After all, Alex didnât care what she did, and certainly no one cared when she lived at the Rakesmount.Â
Thoughts of Morgan entered her mind again. Dagny tried to picture his face, but it was too hazy, like trying to see through fog. So she imagined how his body felt when he hugged her, and his dyed-blue hair. Stuck with sweat to his face when he became sick.
Dagny stepped onto her balcony and took in the evening air. She could hear people laughing from the street beyond. A drum and tin whistle cut through the wind as musicians started playing from a nearby plaza. After some time had passed, she reached for the trellis that stretched from the garden all the way to the roof and climbed up it, like she had done so many times before. The neighborhood children had all returned to their homes, forgetting about the game of Hunters and the Hunted, and allowing the garden to drift into the relaxed solitude of the moonlit night. Down below, Dagny could see the vague outline of the road from a streetlamp as she carefully moved across the pitched roof. The height didnât bother her; she found it exhilarating, and knew no one else would dare climb up. Maybe thatâs why she liked it so much.Â
Dagny lay down, on a flat part of roof near the chimney and gazed up at the stars. High above, shone the brightest one this time of year: the Heraldâs Star. It was the adventurersâ compass, Morgan had told her, and it would always guide him home should he become lost. She fell asleep there, under the night sky. Wearing her brotherâs coat.Â
Ever the Night Road feels like a coming of age adventure novel, driven very much by a main protagonist that feels lost about her place in the world, with what she wants being denied to her by the world. You add in some soft magic, some horror elements, and a grand sense of mysticism and lost histories, knowledge, magic, and grandeur and you have an excellent, and often evocative, setting for a young adventurer. From an upscale district, to the mysterious and secretive ruins or old, and the dangerous, ghost haunted underbelly of the main, we are presented with a grand variety of engaging places and scenes, most operating in a tangibly different way from the others, and evocatively described to elicit all the desired emotions.
Our main character is solid, likable, and well-realized. The secondary characters are solid as well, but lack the same amount of screen time. Despite this, the side characters still fit well into the story and world, helping to bring both to life.
One of my only real qualms is that the plot felt a bit lost sometimes; the core driving elements of the narrative don't appear in the narrative until after the first quarter or third of the book, and almost immediately supplant the narrative that the first third of the book was setting up. The first third of the book focused heavily on Dagny and her desire to be an adventurer, as well as her first real adventure; it's a little slow in places, but generally fairly light. The subsequent two thirds grow significantly darker, and Dagny's core desire to be an adventure is almost entirely forgotten in the light of the new driving plot elements. It's not that these new plot elements are bad or un-engaging (quite the contrary) just that they don't reconcile well with Dagny's desire to be an adventurer, either as a reality check showing her the reality of that life or as a beginning of the fulfill of that desire. Part of it is because Dagny herself undergoes a variety of adventures in strange places and yet remarks upon them, even when those adventures are actively frightening, or traumatic. (Something to praise in the book is that Dagny goes through a lot, and is both changed by her experiences, but also very much scarred by them in a believable way.)
Finally, Ever the Night Roads sticks it landing, providing the reader with a clear vision of the type of story future books in the series are intended to be. The ending is tense and incomplete (because series) while teasing the readers with a new, fantastical and unsettling adventure.