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<h3>Product Description</h3>
<p><strong>A</strong> New York Times <strong>bestseller!<br>They burned her home.<br>They stole her brother and sister.<br>But vengeance is following.</strong> </p>
<p>Shy South hoped to bury her bloody past and ride away smiling, but she'll have to sharpen up some bad old ways to get her family back, and she's not a woman to flinch from what needs doing. She sets off in pursuit with only a pair of oxen and her cowardly old step father Lamb for company. But it turns out Lamb's buried a bloody past of his own. And out in the lawless Far Country the past never stays buried. </p>
<p>Their journey will take them across the barren plains to a frontier town gripped by gold fever, through feud, duel and massacre, high into the unmapped mountains to a reckoning with the Ghosts. Even worse, it will force them into an alliance with Nicomo Cosca, infamous soldier of fortune, and his feckless lawyer Temple, two men no one should ever have to trust . . . </p>
<p><em>Red Country</em> takes place in the same world as the First Law trilogy, <em>Best Served Cold,</em> and <em>The Heroes</em>. This novel also represents the return of Logen Ninefingers, one of Abercrombie's most beloved characters.</p>
<h3>Review</h3>
<p>"Terrific fight scenes, compelling characters (some familiar, some new), and sardonic, vivid prose show Abercrombie at the top of his game."<br>―Publishers Weekly (Starred Review) on Red Country </p>
<p>"Pointed, driven, and sharp."―Locus on Red Country </p>
<p>"Magnificent, richly entertaining"―Time on The Heroes </p>
<p>"Imagine <em>The Lord of the Rings</em> as directed by Kurosawa."―Lev Grossman, Wall Street Journal on The Heroes</p>
<h3>About the Author</h3>
<p><strong>Joe Abercrombie</strong> is the <em>New York Times</em> bestselling author of <em>Red Country</em> and the First Law trilogy: <em>The Blade Itself, Before They Are Hanged</em> , and <em>Last Argument of Kings</em>. He is a full-time writer and occasional freelance film editor who lives in Bath, England with his wife and three children.</p>
<h3>Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.</h3>
<h1>Red Country</h1>
<p style="font-weight: bold">By Joe Abercrombie</p>
<h4 style="font-size: medium">Orbit</h4>
<p style="font-weight: bold">Copyright © 2012 Joe Abercrombie<br>All right reserved.<br>ISBN: 9780316187213 </p>
<h1>I</h1>
<h2>TROUBLE</h2>
<p>‘You, that judge men by the handle and the sheath, how can I make you know a good blade?’</p>
<p>Jedediah M. Grant</p>
<h2>Some Kind of Coward</h2>
<p>‘Gold.’ Wist made the word sound like a mystery there was no solving. ‘Makes men mad.’</p>
<p>Shy nodded. ‘Those that ain’t mad already.’</p>
<p>They sat in front of Stupfer’s Meat House, which might’ve sounded like a brothel but was actually the worst place to eat within fifty miles, and that with some fierce competition. Shy perched on the sacks in her wagon and Wist on the fence, where he always seemed to be, like he’d such a splinter in his arse he’d got stuck there. They watched the crowd.</p>
<p>‘I came here to get away from people,’ said Wist.</p>
<p>Shy nodded. ‘Now look.’</p>
<p>Last summer you could’ve spent all day in town and not seen two people you didn’t know. You could’ve spent some days in town and not seen two people. A lot can change with a few months and a gold find. Now Squaredeal was bursting at its ragged seams with bold pioneers. One-way traffic, headed west towards imagined riches, some charging through fast as the clutter would allow, some stopping off to add their own share of commerce and chaos. Wagon-wheels clattered, mules nickered and horses neighed, livestock honked and oxen bellowed. Men, women and children of all races and stations did plenty of their own honking and bellowing too, in every language and temper. It might’ve been quite the colourful spectacle if everywhere the blown dust hadn’t leached each tone to that same grey ubiquity of dirt.</p>
<p>Wist sucked a noisy mouthful from his bottle. ‘Quite the variety, ain’t there?’</p>
<p>Shy nodded. ‘All set on getting something for nothing.’</p>
<p>All struck with a madness of hope. Or of greed, depending on the observer’s faith in humanity, which in Shy’s case stood less than brim-full. All drunk on the chance of reaching into some freezing pool out there in the great empty and plucking up a new life with both hands. Leaving their humdrum selves behind on the bank like a shed skin and taking a short cut to happiness.</p>
<p>‘Tempted to join ’em?’ asked Wist.</p>
<p>Shy pressed her tongue against her front teeth and spat through the gap between. ‘Not me.’ If they made it across the Far Country alive, the odds were stacked high they’d spend a winter up to their arses in ice water and dig up naught but dirt. And if lightning did strike the end of your spade, what then? Ain’t like rich folk got no trouble.</p>
<p>There’d been a time Shy thought she’d get something for nothing. Shed her skin and step away smiling. Turned out sometimes the short cut don’t lead quite where you hoped, and cuts through bloody country, too.</p>
<p>‘Just the rumour o’ gold turns ’em mad.’ Wist took another swallow, the knobble on his scrawny neck bobbing, and watched two would-be prospectors wrestle over the last pickaxe at a stall while the trader struggled vainly to calm them. ‘Imagine how these bastards’ll act if they ever close hands around a nugget.’</p>
<p>Shy didn’t have to imagine. She’d seen it, and didn’t prize the memories. ‘Men don’t need much beckoning on to act like animals.’</p>
<p>‘Nor women neither,’ added Wist.</p>
<p>Shy narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Why look at me?’</p>
<p>‘You’re foremost in my mind.’</p>
<p>‘Not sure I like being that close to your face.’</p>
<p>Wist showed her his tombstone teeth as he laughed, and handed her the bottle. ‘Why don’t you got a man, Shy?’</p>
<p>‘Don’t like men much, I guess.’</p>
<p>‘You don’t like anyone much.’</p>
<p>‘They started it.’</p>
<p>‘All of ’em?’</p>
<p>‘Enough of ’em.’ She gave the mouth of the bottle a good wipe and made sure she took only a sip. She knew how easy she could turn a sip into a swallow, and the swallow into a bottle, and the bottle into waking up smelling of piss with one leg in the creek. There were folk counting on her, and she’d had her fill of being a disappointment.</p>
<p>The wrestlers had been dragged apart and were spitting insults each in their own tongue, neither quite catching the details but both getting the gist. Looked like the pick had vanished in the commotion, more’n likely spirited away by a cannier adventurer while eyes were elsewhere.</p>
<p>‘Gold surely can turn men mad,’ muttered Wist, all wistful as his name implied. ‘Still, if the ground opened and offered me the good stuff I don’t suppose I’d be turning down a nugget.’</p>
<p>Shy thought of the farm, and all the tasks to do, and all the time she hadn’t got for the doing of ’em, and rubbed her roughed-up thumbs against her chewed-up fingers. For the quickest moment a trek into the hills didn’t sound such a mad notion after all. What if there really was gold up there? Scattered on some stream bed in priceless abundance, longing for the kiss of her itchy fingertips? Shy South, luckiest woman in the Near Country…</p>
<p>‘Hah.’ She slapped the thought away like a bothersome fly. High hopes were luxuries she couldn’t stretch to. ‘In my experience, the ground ain’t giving aught away. No more’n the rest of us misers.’</p>
<p>‘Got a lot, do you?’</p>
<p>‘Eh?’</p>
<p>‘Experience.’</p>
<p>She winked as she handed his bottle back. ‘More’n you can imagine, old man.’ A damn stretch more’n most of the pioneers, that was sure. Shy shook her head as she watched the latest crowd coming through–a set of Union worthies, by their looks, dressed for a picnic rather than a slog across a few hundred miles of lawless empty. Folk who should’ve been satisfied with the comfortable lives they had, suddenly deciding they’d take any chance at grabbing more. Shy wondered how long it’d be before they were limping back the other way, broken and broke. If they made it back.</p>
<p>‘Where’s Gully at?’ asked Wist.</p>
<p>‘Back on the farm, looking to my brother and sister.’</p>
<p>‘Haven’t seen him in a while.’</p>
<p>‘He ain’t been here in a while. Hurts him to ride, he says.’</p>
<p>‘Getting old. Happens to us all. When you see him, tell him I miss him.’</p>
<p>‘If he was here he’d have drunk your bottle dry in one swallow and you’d be cursing his name.’</p>
<p>‘I daresay.’ Wist sighed. ‘That’s how it is with things missed.’</p>
<p>By then, Lamb was fording the people-flooded street, shag of grey hair showing above the heads around him for all his stoop, an even sorrier set to his heavy shoulders than usual.</p>
<p>‘What did you get?’ she asked, hopping down from the wagon.</p>
<p>Lamb winced, like he knew what was coming. ‘Twenty-seven?’ His rumble of a voice tweaked high at the end to make a question of it, but what he was really asking was, <em>How bad did I fuck up?</em></p>
<p>Shy shook her head, tongue wedged in her cheek, letting him know he’d fucked up middling to bad. ‘You’re some kind of a bloody coward, Lamb.’ She thumped at the sacks and sent up a puff of grain dust. ‘I didn’t spend two days dragging this up here to give it away.’</p>
<p>He winced a bit more, grey-bearded face creasing around the old scars and laughter lines, all weather-worn and dirt-grained. ‘I’m no good with the bartering, Shy, you know that.’</p>
<p>‘Remind me what it is y’are good with?’ she tossed over her shoulder as she strode for Clay’s Exchange, letting a set of piebald goats bleat past then slipping through the traffic sideways-on. ‘Except hauling the sacks?’</p>
<p>‘That’s something, ain’t it?’ he muttered.</p>
<p>The store was busier even than the street, smelling of sawn wood and spices and hard-working bodies packed tight. She had to shove between a clerk and some blacker’n black Southerner trying to make himself understood in no language she’d ever heard before, then around a washboard hung from the low rafters and set swinging by a careless elbow, then past a frowning Ghost, his red hair all bound up with twigs, leaves still on and everything. All these folk scrambling west meant money to be made, and woe to the merchant tried to put himself between Shy and her share.</p>
<p>‘Clay?’ she bellowed, nothing to be gained by whispering. ‘Clay!’</p>
<p>The trader frowned up, caught in the midst of weighing flour out on his man-high scales. ‘Shy South in Squaredeal. Ain’t this my lucky day.’</p>
<p>‘Looks that way. You got a whole town full o’ saps to <em>swindle!’</em> She gave the last word a bit of air, made a few heads turn and Clay plant his big fists on his hips.</p>
<p>‘No one’s swindling no one,’ he said.</p>
<p>‘Not while I’ve got an eye on business.’</p>
<p>‘Me and your father agreed on twenty-seven, Shy.’</p>
<p>‘You know he ain’t my father. And you know you ain’t agreed shit ’til I’ve agreed it.’</p>
<p>Clay cocked an eyebrow at Lamb and the Northman looked straight to the ground, shifting sideways like he was trying and wholly failing to vanish. For all Lamb’s bulk he’d a weak eye, slapped down by any glance that held it. He could be a loving man, and a hard worker, and he’d been a fair stand-in for a father to Ro and Pit and Shy too, far as she’d given him the chance. A good enough man, but by the dead he was some kind of coward.</p>
<p>Shy felt ashamed for him, and ashamed of him, and that nettled her. She stabbed her finger in Clay’s face like it was a drawn dagger she’d no qualms about using. ‘Squaredeal’s a strange sort o’ name for a town where you’d claw out a business! You paid twenty-eight last season, and you didn’t have a quarter of the customers. I’ll take thirty-eight.’</p>
<p>‘What?’ Clay’s voice squeaking even higher than she’d predicted. ‘Golden grain, is it?’</p>
<p>‘That’s right. Top quality. Threshed with my own blistered bloody hands.’</p>
<p>‘And mine,’ muttered Lamb.</p>
<p>‘Shush,’ said Shy. ‘I’ll take thirty-eight and refuse to be moved.’</p>
<p>‘Don’t do me no favours!’ raged Clay, fat face filling with angry creases. ‘Because I loved your mother I’ll offer twenty nine.’</p>
<p>‘You never loved a thing but your purse. Anything short of thirty-eight and I’d sooner set up next to your store and offer all this through-traffic just a little less than what you’re offering.’</p>
<p>He knew she’d do it, even if it cost her. Never make a threat you aren’t at least halfway sure you’ll carry through on. ‘Thirty-one,’ he grated out.</p>
<p>‘Thirty-five.’</p>
<p>‘You’re holding up all these good folk, you selfish bitch!’ Or rather she was giving the good folk notice of the profits he was chiselling and sooner or later they’d catch on.</p>
<p>‘They’re scum to a man, and I’ll hold ’em up ’til Juvens gets back from the land of the dead if it means thirty-five.’</p>
<p>‘Thirty-two.’</p>
<p>‘Thirty-five.’</p>
<p>‘Thirty-three and you might as well burn my store down on the way out!’</p>
<p>‘Don’t tempt me, fat man. Thirty-three and you can toss in a pair o’ those new shovels and some feed for my oxen. They eat almost as much as you.’ She spat in her palm and held it out.</p>
<p>Clay bitterly worked his mouth, but he spat all the same, and they shook. ‘Your mother was no better.’</p>
<p>‘Couldn’t stand the woman.’ Shy elbowed her way back towards the door, leaving Clay to vent his upset on his next customer. ‘Not that hard, is it?’ she tossed over her shoulder at Lamb.</p>
<p>The big old Northman fussed with the notch out of his ear. ‘Think I’d rather have settled for the twenty-seven.’</p>
<p>‘That’s ’cause you’re some kind of a bloody coward. Better to do it than live with the fear of it. Ain’t that what you always used to tell me?’</p>
<p>‘Time’s shown me the downside o’ that advice,’ muttered Lamb, but Shy was too busy congratulating herself.</p>
<p>Thirty-three was a good price. She’d worked over the sums, and thirty-three would leave something towards Ro’s books once they’d fixed the barn’s leaking roof and got a breeding pair of pigs to replace the ones they’d butchered in winter. Maybe they could stretch to some seed too, try and nurse the cabbage patch back to health. She was grinning, thinking on what she could put right with that money, what she could build.</p>
<p><em>You don’t need a big dream,</em> her mother used to tell her when she was in a rare good mood, <em>a little one will do it.</em></p>
<p>‘Let’s get them sacks shifted,’ she said.</p>
<p>He might’ve been getting on in years, might’ve been slow as an old favourite cow, but Lamb was strong as ever. No weight would bend the man. All Shy had to do was stand on the wagon and heft the sacks one by one onto his shoulders while he stood, complaining less than the wagon had at the load. Then he’d stroll them across, four at a time, and stack them in Clay’s yard easy as sacks of feathers. Shy might’ve been half his weight, but had the easier task and twenty-five years advantage and still, soon enough, she was leaking water faster than a fresh-dug well, vest plastered to her back and hair to her face, arms pink-chafed by canvas and white-powdered with grain dust, tongue wedged in the gap between her teeth while she cursed up a storm.</p>
<p>Lamb stood there, two sacks over one shoulder and one over the other, hardly even breathing hard, those deep laugh lines striking out from the corners of his eyes. ‘Need a rest, Shy?’</p>
<p>She gave him a look. A rest from your carping.’</p>
<p>‘I could shift some o’ those sacks around and make a little cot for you. Might be there’s a blanket in the back there. I could sing you to sleep like I did when you were young.’</p>
<p>‘I’m still young.’</p>
<p>‘Ish. Sometimes I think about that little girl smiling up at me.’ Lamb looked off into the distance, shaking his head. ‘And I wonder–where did me and your mother go wrong?’</p>
<p>‘She died and you’re useless?’ Shy heaved the last sack up and dropped it on his shoulder from as great a height as she could manage.</p>
<p>Lamb only grinned as he slapped his hand down on top. ‘Maybe that’s it.’ As he turned he nearly barged into another Northman, big as he was and a lot meaner-looking. The man started growling some curse, then stopped in the midst. Lamb kept trudging, head down, how he always did from the least breath of trouble. The Northman frowned up at Shy.</p>
<p>‘What?’ she said, staring right back.</p>
<p>He frowned after Lamb, then walked off, scratching at his beard.</p>
<p>The shadows were getting long and the clouds pink in the west when Shy dumped the last sack under Clay’s grinning face and he held out the money, leather bag dangling from one thick forefinger by the drawstrings. She stretched her back out, wiped her forehead on the back of one glove, then worked the bag open and peered inside.</p>
<p>‘All here?’</p>
<p>‘I’m not going to rob you.’</p>
<p>‘Damn right you’re not.’ And she set to counting it. <em>You can always tell a thief,</em> her mother used to say, <em>on account of all the care they take with their own money.</em></p>
<p>‘Maybe I should go through every sack, make sure there’s grain in ’em not shit?’</p>
<p>Shy snorted. ‘If it was shit would that stop you selling it?’ The merchant sighed. ‘Have it your way.’</p>
<p>‘I will.’</p>
<p>‘She does tend to,’ added Lamb.</p>
<p>A pause, with just the clicking of coins and the turning of numbers in her head. ‘Heard Glama Golden won another fight in the pit up near Greyer,’ said Clay. ‘They say he’s the toughest bastard in the Near Country and there’s some tough bastards about. Take a fool to bet against him now, whatever the odds. Take a fool to fight him.’</p>
<p>‘No doubt,’ muttered Lamb, always quiet when violence was the subject.</p>
<p>‘Heard from a man watched it he beat old Stockling Bear so hard his guts came out of his arse.’</p>
<p>‘That’s entertainment, is it?’ asked Shy.</p>
<p>‘Beats shitting your own guts.’</p>
<p>‘That ain’t much of a review.’</p>
<p>Clay shrugged. ‘I’ve heard worse ones. Did you hear about this battle, up near Rostod?’</p>
<p>‘Something about it,’ she muttered, trying to keep her count straight.</p>
<p>‘Rebels got beat again, I heard. Bad, this time. All on the run now. Those the Inquisition didn’t get a hold on.’</p>
<p>‘Poor bastards,’ said Lamb.</p>
<p>Shy paused her count a moment, then carried on. There were a lot of poor bastards about but they couldn’t all be her problem. She’d enough worries with her brother and sister, and Lamb, and Gully, and the farm without crying over others’ self-made misfortunes.</p>
<p>‘Might be they’ll make a stand up at Mulkova, but they won’t be standing long.’ Clay made the fence creak as he leaned his soft bulk back on it, hands tucked under his armpits with the thumbs sticking up. ‘War’s all but over, if you can call it a war, and there’s plenty of people shook off their land. Shook off or burned out or lost what they had. Passes are opened up, ships coming through. Lots of folk seeing their fortune out west all of a sudden.’ He nodded at the dusty chaos in the street, still boiling over even as the sun set. ‘This here’s just the first trickle. There’s a flood coming.’</p>
<p>Lamb sniffed. ‘Like as not they’ll find the mountains ain’t one great piece of gold and soon come flooding back the other way.’</p>
<p>‘Some will. Some’ll put down roots. The Union’ll be coming along after. However much land the Union get, they always want more, and what with that find out west they’ll smell money. That vicious old bastard Sarmis is sitting on the border and rattling his sword for the Empire, but his sword’s always rattling. Won’t stop the tide, I reckon.’ Clay took a step closer to Shy and spoke soft, like he had secrets to share. ‘I heard tell there’s already been Union agents in Hormring, talking annexation.’</p>
<p>‘They’re buying folk out?’</p>
<p>‘They’ll have a coin in one hand, sure, but they’ll have a blade in the other. They always do. We should be thinking about how we’ll play it, if they come to Squaredeal. We should stand together, those of us been here a while.’</p>
<p>‘I ain’t interested in politics.’ Shy wasn’t interested in anything might bring trouble.</p>
<p>‘Most of us aren’t,’ said Clay, ‘but sometimes politics takes an interest in us all the same. The Union’ll be coming, and they’ll bring law with ’em.’</p>
<p>‘Law don’t seem such a bad thing,’ Shy lied.</p>
<p>‘Maybe not. But taxes follow law quick as the cart behind the donkey.’</p>
<p>‘Can’t say I’m an enthusiast for taxes.’</p>
<p>‘Just a fancier way to rob a body, ain’t it? I’d rather be thieved honest with mask and dagger than have some bloodless bastard come at me with pen and paper.’</p>
<p>‘Don’t know about that,’ muttered Shy. None of those she’d robbed had looked too delighted with the experience, and some a lot less than others. She let the coins slide back into the bag and drew the string tight.</p>
<p>‘How’s the count?’ asked Clay. ‘Anything missing?’</p>
<p>‘Not this time. But I reckon I’ll keep watching just the same.’</p>
<p>The merchant grinned. ‘I’d expect no less.’</p>
<p>She picked out a few things they needed–salt, vinegar, some sugar since it only came in time to time, a wedge of dried beef, half a bag of nails which brought the predictable joke from Clay that she was half a bag of nails herself, which brought the predictable joke from her that she’d nail his fruits to his leg, which brought the predictable joke from Lamb that Clay’s fruits were so small she might not get a nail through. They had a bit of a chuckle over each other’s quick wits.</p>
<p>She almost got carried away and bought a new shirt for Pit which was more’n they could afford, good price or other price, but Lamb patted her arm with his gloved hand, and she bought needles and thread instead so she could make him a shirt from one of Lamb’s old ones. She probably could’ve made five shirts for Pit from one of Lamb’s, the boy was that skinny. The needles were a new kind, Clay said were stamped out of a machine in Adua, hundreds at a press, and Shy smiled as she thought what Gully would say to that, shaking his white head at them and saying, needles from a machine, what’ll be thought of next, while Ro turned them over and over in her quick fingers, frowning down as she worked out how it was done.</p>
<p>Shy paused in front of the spirits to lick her lips a moment, glass gleaming amber in the darkness, then forced herself on without, haggled harder than ever with Clay over his prices, and they were finished.</p>
<p>‘Never come to this store again, you mad bitch!’ The trader hurled at her as she climbed up onto the wagon’s seat alongside Lamb. ‘You’ve damn near ruined me!’</p>
<p>‘Next season?’</p>
<p>He waved a fat hand as he turned back to his customers. ‘Aye, see you then.’</p>
<p>She reached to take the brake off and almost put her hand in the beard of the Northman Lamb knocked into earlier. He was standing right beside the wagon, brow all ploughed up like he was trying to bring some foggy memory to mind, thumbs tucked into a sword-belt–big, simple hilt close to hand. A rough style of character, a scar born near one eye and jagged through his scraggy beard. Shy kept a pleasant look on her face as she eased her knife out, spinning the blade about so it was hidden behind her arm. Better to have steel to hand and find no trouble than find yourself in trouble with no steel to hand.</p>
<p>The Northman said something in his own tongue. Lamb hunched a little lower in his seat, not even turning to look. The Northman spoke again. Lamb grunted something back, then snapped the reins and the wagon rolled off, Shy swaying with the jolting wheels. She snatched a glance over her shoulder when they’d gone a few strides down the rutted street. The Northman was still standing in their dust, frowning after them.</p>
<p>‘What’d he want?’</p>
<p>‘Nothing.’</p>
<p>She slid her knife into its sheath, stuck one boot on the rail and sat back, settling her hat brim low so the setting sun wasn’t in her eyes. ‘The world’s brimming over with strange people, all right. You spend time worrying what they’re thinking, you’ll be worrying all your life.’</p>
<p>Lamb was hunched lower than ever, like he was trying to vanish into his own chest.</p>
<p>Shy snorted. ‘You’re such a bloody coward.’</p>
<p>He gave her a sideways look, then away. ‘There’s worse a man can be.’</p>
<p>They were laughing when they clattered over the rise and the shallow little valley opened out in front of them. Something Lamb had said. He’d perked up when they left town, as usual. Never at his best in a crowd.</p>
<p>It gave Shy’s spirits a lift besides, coming up that track that was hardly more than two faded lines through the long grass. She’d been through black times in her younger years, midnight black times, when she thought she’d be killed out under the sky and left to rot, or caught and hanged and tossed out unburied for the dogs to rip at. More than once, in the midst of nights sweated through with fear, she’d sworn to be grateful every moment of her life if fate gave her the chance to tread this unremarkable path again. Eternal gratitude hadn’t quite come about, but that’s promises for you. She still felt that bit lighter as the wagon rolled home.</p>
<p>Then they saw the farm, and the laughter choked in her throat and they sat silent while the wind fumbled through the grass around them. Shy couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, all her veins flushed with ice-water. Then she was down from the wagon and running.</p>
<p>‘Shy!’ Lamb roared at her back, but she hardly heard, head full of her own rattling breath, pounding down the slope, land and sky jolting around her. Through the stubble of the field they’d harvested not a week before. Over the trampled-down fence and the chicken feathers crushed into the mud.</p>
<p>She made it to the yard–what had been the yard–and stood helpless. The house was all dead charred timbers and rubbish and nothing left standing but the tottering chimney-stack. No smoke. The rain must’ve put out the fires a day or two before. But everything was burned out. She ran around the side of the blacked wreck of the barn, whimpering a little now with each breath.</p>
<p>Gully was hanged from the big tree out back. They’d hanged him over her mother’s grave and kicked down the headstone. He was shot through with arrows. Might’ve been a dozen, might’ve been more.</p>
<p>Shy felt like she was kicked in the guts and she bent over, arms hugged around herself, and groaned, and the tree groaned with her as the wind shook its leaves and set Gully’s corpse gently swinging. Poor old harmless bastard. He’d called to her as they’d rattled off on the wagon. Said she didn’t need to worry ’cause he’d look to the children, and she’d laughed at him and said she didn’t need to worry ’cause the children would look to him, and she couldn’t see nothing for the aching in her eyes and the wind stinging at them, and she clamped her arms tighter, feeling suddenly so cold nothing could warm her.</p>
<p>She heard Lamb’s boots thumping up, then slowing, then coming steady until he stood beside her.</p>
<p>‘Where are the children?’</p>
<p>They dug the house over, and the barn. Slow, and steady, and numb to begin with. Lamb dragged the scorched timbers clear while Shy scraped through the ashes, sure she’d scrape up Pit and Ro’s bones. But they weren’t in the house. Nor in the barn. Nor in the yard. Wilder now, trying to smother her fear, and more frantic, trying to smother her hope, casting through the grass, and clawing at the rubbish, but the closest Shy came to her brother and sister was a charred toy horse Lamb had whittled for Pit years past and the scorched pages of some of Ro’s books she let blow through her fingers.</p>
<p>The children were vanished.</p>
<p>She stood there, staring into the wind, back of one raw hand against her mouth and her chest going hard. Only one thing she could think of.</p>
<p>‘They’re stolen,’ she croaked.</p>
<p>Lamb just nodded, his grey hair and his grey beard all streaked with soot.</p>
<p>‘Why?’</p>
<p>‘I don’t know.’</p>
<p>She wiped her blackened hands on the front of her shirt and made fists of them. ‘We’ve got to get after.’</p>
<p>‘Aye.’</p>
<p>She squatted down over the chewed-up sod around the tree. Wiped her nose and her eyes. Followed the tracks bent over to another battered patch of ground. She found an empty bottle trampled into the mud, tossed it away. They’d made no effort at hiding their sign. Horse-prints all around, circling the shells of the buildings. ‘I’m guessing at about twenty. Might’ve been forty horses, though. They left the spare mounts over here.’</p>
<p>‘To carry the children, maybe?’</p>
<p>‘Carry ’em where?’</p>
<p>Lamb just shook his head.</p>
<p>She went on, keen to say anything that might fill the space. Keen to set to work at something so she didn’t have to think. ‘My way of looking at it, they came in from the west and left going south. Left in a hurry.’</p>
<p>‘I’ll get the shovels. We’ll bury Gully.’</p>
<p>They did it quick. She shinned up the tree, knowing every foot- and handhold. She used to climb it long ago, before Lamb came, while her mother watched and Gully clapped, and now her mother was buried under it and Gully was hanged from it, and she knew somehow she’d made it happen. You can’t bury a past like hers and think you’ll walk away laughing.</p>
<p>She cut him down, and broke the arrows off, and smoothed his bloody hair while Lamb dug out a hole next to her mother. She closed his popping eyes and put her hand on his cheek and it was cold. He looked so small now, and so thin, she wanted to put a coat on him but there was none to hand. Lamb lowered him in a clumsy hug, and they filled the hole together, and they dragged her mother’s stone up straight again and tramped the thrashing grass around it, ash blowing on the cold wind in specks of black and grey, whipping across the land and off to nowhere.</p>
<p>‘Should we say something?’ asked Shy.</p>
<p>‘I’ve nothing to say.’ Lamb swung himself up onto the wagon’s seat. Might still have been an hour of light left.</p>
<p>‘We ain’t taking that,’ said Shy. ‘I can run faster’n those bloody oxen.’</p>
<p>‘Not longer, though, and not with gear, and we’ll do no good rushing at this. They’ve got what? Two, three days’ start on us? And they’ll be riding hard. Twenty men, you said? We have to be realistic, Shy.’</p>
<p>‘Realistic?’ she whispered at him, hardly able to believe it.</p>
<p>‘If we chase after on foot, and don’t starve or get washed away in a storm, and if we catch ’em, what then? We’re not armed, even. Not with more’n your knife. No. We’ll follow on fast as Scale and Calder can take us.’ Nodding at the oxen, grazing a little while they had the chance. ‘See if we can pare a couple off the herd. Work out what they’re about.’</p>
<p>‘Clear enough what they’re about!’ she said, pointing at Gully’s grave. And what happens to Ro and Pit while we’re fucking <em>following on?’</em> She ended up screaming it at him, voice splitting the silence and a couple of hopeful crows taking flight from the tree’s branches.</p>
<p>The corner of Lamb’s mouth twitched but he didn’t look at her. ‘We’ll follow.’ Like it was a fact agreed on. ‘Might be we can talk this out. Buy ’em back.’</p>
<p>‘Buy ’em? They burn your farm, and they hang your friend, and they steal your children and you want to <em>pay ’em</em> for the privilege? You’re such a fucking coward!’</p>
<p>Still he didn’t look at her. ‘Sometimes a coward’s what you need.’ His voice was rough. Clicking in his throat. ‘No shed blood’s going to unburn this farm now, nor unhang Gully neither. That’s done. Best we can do is get back the little ones, any way we can. Get ’em back safe.’ This time the twitch started at his mouth and scurried all the way up his scarred cheek to the corner of his eye. ‘Then we’ll see.’</p>
<p>Shy took a last look as they lurched away towards the setting sun. Her home. Her hopes. How a day can change things about. Naught left but a few scorched timbers poking at the pinking sky. You don’t need a big dream. She felt about as low as she ever had in all her life, and she’d been in some bad, dark, low-down places. Hardly had the strength all of a sudden to hold her head up.</p>
<p>‘Why’d they have to burn it all?’ she whispered.</p>
<p>‘Some men just like to burn,’ said Lamb.</p>
<p>Shy looked around at him, the outline of his battered frown showing below his battered hat, the dying sun glimmering in one eye, and thought how strange it was, that he could be so calm. A man who hadn’t the guts to argue over prices, thinking death and kidnap through. Being realistic about the end of all they’d worked for.</p>
<p>‘How can you sit so level?’ she whispered at him. ‘Like… like you knew it was coming.’</p>
<p>Still he didn’t look at her. ‘It’s always coming.’</p>
<h2>The Easy Way</h2>
<p>‘I have suffered many disappointments.’ Nicomo Cosca, captain general of the Company of the Gracious Hand, leaned back stiffly upon one elbow as he spoke. ‘I suppose every great man faces them. Abandons dreams wrecked by betrayal and finds new ones to pursue.’ He frowned towards Mulkova, columns of smoke drifting from the burning city and up into the blue heavens. ‘I have abandoned very many dreams.’</p>
<p>‘That must have taken tremendous courage,’ said Sworbreck, eyeglasses briefly twinkling as he looked up from his notes.</p>
<p>‘Indeed! I lose count of the number of times my death has been prematurely declared by one optimistic enemy or another. Forty years of trials, struggles, challenges, betrayals. Live long enough… you see everything ruined.’ Cosca shook himself from his reverie. ‘But it hasn’t been boring, at least! What adventures along the way, eh, Temple?’</p>
<p>Temple winced. He had borne personal witness to five years of occasional fear, frequent tedium, intermittent diarrhoea, failure to avoid the plague, and avoiding fighting as if it was the plague. But he was not paid for the truth. Far from it.</p>
<p>‘Heroic,’ he said.</p>
<p>‘Temple is my notary. He prepares the contracts and sees them honoured. One of the cleverest bastards I ever met. How many languages do you speak, Temple?’</p>
<p>‘Fluently, no more than six.’</p>
<p>‘Most important man in the whole damn Company! Apart from me, of course.’ A breeze washed across the hillside and stirred the wispy white hairs about Cosca’s liver-spotted pate. ‘I so look forward to telling you my stories, Sworbreck!’ Temple restrained another grimace of distaste. ‘The Siege of Dagoska!’ Which ended in utter disaster. ‘The Battle of Afieri!’ Shameful debacle. ‘The Years of Blood!’ Sides changed like shirts. ‘The Kadiri Campaign!’ Drunken fiasco. ‘I even kept a goat for several years. A stubborn beast, but loyal, you’d have to give her that…’</p>
<p>Sworbreck achieved the not-inconsiderable feat of performing an obsequious bow while sitting cross-legged against a slab of fallen masonry. ‘I have no doubt my readers will thrill to your exploits.’</p>
<p>‘Enough to fill twenty volumes!’</p>
<p>‘Three will be more than adequate—’</p>
<p>‘I was once Grand Duke of Visserine, you know.’ Cosca waved down attempts at abasement which had, in fact, not happened. ‘Don’t worry, you need not call me Excellency–we are all informal here in the Company of the Gracious Hand, are we not, Temple?’</p>
<p>Temple took a long breath. ‘We are all informal.’ Most of them were liars, all of them were thieves, some of them were killers. Informality was not surprising.</p>
<p>‘Sergeant Friendly has been with me even longer than Temple, ever since we deposed Grand Duke Orso and placed Monzcarro Murcatto on the throne of Talins.’</p>
<p>Sworbreck looked up. ‘You know the Grand Duchess?’</p>
<p>‘Intimately. I consider it no exaggeration to say I was her close friend and mentor. I saved her life at the siege of Muris, and she mine! The story of her rise to power is one I must relate to you at some stage, a noble business. There are precious few persons of quality I have not fought for or against at one time or another. Sergeant Friendly?’</p>
<p>The neckless sergeant looked up, face a blank slab.</p>
<p>‘What have you made of your time with me?’</p>
<p>‘I preferred prison.’ And he returned to rolling his dice, an activity which could fully occupy him for hours at a time.</p>
<p>‘He is such a wag, that one!’ Cosca waved a bony finger at him, though there was no evidence of a joke. In five years Temple had never heard Sergeant Friendly make a joke. ‘Sworbreck, you will find the Company alive with joshing good fun!’</p>
<p>Not to mention simmering feuds, punishing laziness, violence, disease, looting, treachery, drunkenness and debauchery fit to make a devil blush.</p>
<p>‘These five years,’ said Temple, ‘I’ve hardly stopped laughing.’</p>
<p>There was a time he had found the Old Man’s stories hilarious, enchanting, stirring. A magical glimpse of what it was to be without fear. Now they made him feel sick. Whether Temple had learned the truth or Cosca had forgotten it, it was hard to say. Perhaps a little of both.</p>
<p>‘Yes, it’s been quite a career. Many proud moments. Many triumphs. But defeats, too. Every great man has them. Regrets are the cost of the business, Sazine always used to say. People have often accused me of inconsistency but I feel that I have always, at any given junction, done the same thing. Exactly what I pleased.’ The aged mercenary’s fickle attention having wandered back to his imagined glorious past, Temple began to ease away, slipping around a broken column. ‘I had a happy childhood but a wild youth, filled with ugly incidents, and at seventeen I left my birthplace to seek my fortune with only my wits, my courage, and my trusty blade…’</p>
<p>The sounds of boasting mercifully faded as Temple retreated down the hillside, stepping from the shadow of the ancient ruin and into the sun. Whatever Cosca might say, there was little joshing good fun going on down here.</p>
<p>Temple had seen wretchedness. He had lived through more than his share. But he had rarely seen people so miserable as the Company’s latest batch of prisoners: a dozen of the fearsome rebels of Starikland chained naked, bloody, filthy and dead-eyed to a stake in the ground. It was hard to imagine them a threat to the greatest nation in the Circle of the World. It was hard to imagine them as humans. Only the tattoos on their forearms showed some last futile defiance.</p>
<p><em>Fuck the Union. Fuck the King.</em> Read the nearest, a line of bold script from elbow to wrist. A sentiment with which Temple had increasing sympathy. He was developing a sneaking feeling he had found his way onto the wrong side. Again. But it’s not always easy to tell when you’re picking. Perhaps, as Kahdia once told him, you are on the wrong side as soon as you pick one. But it had been Temple’s observation that it was those caught in the middle that always get the worst of it. And he was done with getting the worst.</p>
<p>Sufeen stood by the prisoners, an empty canteen in one hand.</p>
<p>‘What are you about?’ asked Temple.</p>
<p>‘He is wasting water,’ said Bermi, lounging in the sun nearby and scratching at his blond beard.</p>
<p>‘On the contrary,’ said Sufeen. ‘I am trying to administer God’s mercy to our prisoners.’</p>
<p>One had a terrible wound in his side, undressed. His eyes flickered, his lips mouthed meaningless orders or meaningless prayers. Once you could smell a wound there was little hope. But the outlook for the others was no better. ‘If there is a God, He is a smarmy swindler and never to be trusted with anything of importance,’ muttered Temple. ‘Mercy would be to kill them.’</p>
<p>Bermi concurred. ‘I’ve been saying so.’</p>
<p>‘But that would take courage.’ Sufeen lifted his scabbard, offering up the hilt of his sword. ‘Have you courage, Temple?’</p>
<p>Temple snorted.</p>
<p>Sufeen let the weapon drop. ‘Nor I. And so I give them water, and have not enough even of that. What is happening at the top of the hill?’</p>
<p>‘We await our employers. And the Old Man is feeding his vanity.’</p>
<p>‘That’s a hell of an appetite to satisfy,’ said Bermi, picking daisies and flicking them away.</p>
<p>‘Bigger every day. It rivals Sufeen’s guilt.’</p>
<p>‘This is not guilt,’ said Sufeen, frowning towards the prisoners. ‘This is righteousness. Did the priests not teach you that?’</p>
<p>‘Nothing like a religious education to cure a man of righteousness,’ muttered Temple. He thought of Haddish Kahdia speaking the lessons in the plain white room, and his younger self scoffing at them. Charity, mercy, selflessness. How conscience is that piece of Himself that God puts in every man. A splinter of the divine. One that Temple had spent long years struggling to prise out. He caught the eye of one of the rebels. A woman, hair tangled across her face. She reached out as far as the chains would allow. For the water or the sword, he could not say. <em>Grasp your future!</em> called the words inked into her skin. He pulled out his own canteen, frowned as he weighed it in his hand.</p>
<p>‘Some guilt of your own?’ asked Sufeen.</p>
<p>It might have been a while since he wore them, but Temple had not forgotten what chains felt like. ‘How long have you been a scout?’ he snapped.</p>
<p>‘Eighteen years.’</p>
<p>‘You should know by now that conscience is a shitty navigator.’</p>
<p>‘It certainly doesn’t know the country out here,’ added Bermi.</p>
<p>Sufeen spread wide his hands. ‘Who then shall show us the way?’</p>
<p>‘Temple!’ Cosca’s cracked howl, floating from above.</p>
<p>‘Your guide calls,’ said Sufeen. ‘You will have to give them water later.’</p>
<p>Temple tossed him the canteen as he headed back up the hillside. ‘You do it. Later, the Inquisition will have them.’</p>
<p>‘Always the easy way, eh, Temple?’ called Sufeen after him.</p>
<p>‘Always,’ muttered Temple. He made no apology for it.</p>
<p>‘Welcome, gentlemen, welcome!’ Cosca swept off his outrageous hat as their illustrious employers approached, riding in tight formation around a great fortified wagon. Even though the Old Man had, thank God, quit spirits yet again a few months before, he still seemed always slightly drunk. There was a floppy flourish to his knobbly hands, a lazy drooping of his withered eyelids, a rambling music to his speech. That and you could never be entirely sure what he would do or say next. There had been a time Temple had found that constant uncertainty thrilling, like watching the lucky wheel spin and wondering if his number would come up. Now it felt more like cowering beneath a storm-cloud and waiting for the lightning.</p>
<p>‘General Cosca.’ Superior Pike, head of his August Majesty’s Inquisition in Starikland and the most powerful man within five hundred miles, was the first to dismount. His face was burned beyond recognition, eyes darkly shadowed in a mask of mottled pink, the corner of his mouth curled up in what was either a smile or a trick of the ravages of fire. A dozen of his hulking Practicals, dressed and masked in black and bristling with weaponry, arranged themselves watchfully about the ruin.</p>
<p>Cosca grinned across the valley towards the smouldering city, unintimidated. ‘Mulkova burns, I see.’</p>
<p>‘Better that it burn in Union hands than prosper under the rebels,’ said Inquisitor Lorsen as he got down: tall and gaunt, his eyes bright with zeal. Temple envied him that. To feel certain in the right no matter what wrongs you took part in.</p>
<p>‘Quite so,’ said Cosca. ‘A sentiment with which her citizens no doubt all agree! Sergeant Friendly you know, and this is Master Temple, notary to my company.’</p>
<p>General Brint dismounted last, the operation rendered considerably more difficult since he had lost most of an arm at the Battle of Osrung along with his entire sense of humour, and wore the left sleeve of his crimson uniform folded and pinned to his shoulder. ‘You are prepared for legal disagreements, then,’ he said, adjusting his sword-belt and eyeing Temple as if he was the morning plague cart.</p>
<p>‘The second thing a mercenary needs is a good weapon.’ Cosca clapped a fatherly hand on Temple’s shoulder. ‘The first is good legal advice.’</p>
<p>And where does an utter lack of moral scruple feature?’</p>
<p>‘Number five,’ said Temple. ‘Just behind a short memory and a ready wit.’</p>
<p>Superior Pike was considering Sworbreck, still scribbling notes. And on what does this man advise you?’</p>
<p>‘That is Spillion Sworbreck, my biographer.’</p>
<p>‘No more than a humble teller of tales!’ Sworbreck gave the Superior a flamboyant bow. ‘Though I freely confess that my prose has caused grown men to weep.’</p>
<p>‘In a good way?’ asked Temple.</p>
<p>If he heard, the author was too busy praising himself to respond. ‘I compose stories of heroism and adventure to inspire the Union’s citizens! Widely distributed now, via the wonders of the new Rimaldi printing press. You have heard, perhaps, of my <em>Tales of Harod the Great</em> in five volumes?’ Silence. ‘In which I mine the mythic splendour of the origin of the Union itself?’ Silence. ‘Or the eight-volume sequel, <em>The Life of Casamir, Hero of Angland?</em> ’ Silence. ‘In which I hold up the mirror of past glories to expose the moral collapse of the present day?’</p>
<p>‘No.’ Pike’s melted face betrayed no emotion.</p>
<p>‘I will have copies sent to you, Superior!’</p>
<p>‘You could use readings from them to force confessions from your prisoners,’ murmured Temple, under his breath.</p>
<p>‘Do not trouble yourself,’ said Pike.</p>
<p>‘No trouble! General Cosca has permitted me to accompany him on his latest campaign while he relates the details of his fascinating career as a soldier of fortune! I mean to make him the subject of my most celebrated work to date!’</p>
<p>The echoes of Sworbreck’s words faded into a crushing silence.</p>
<p>‘Remove this man from my presence,’ said Pike. ‘His manner of expression offends me.’</p>
<p>Sworbreck backed down the hillside with an almost reckless speed, shepherded by two Practicals. Cosca continued without the slightest hint of embarrassment.</p>
<p>‘General Brint!’ and he seized the general’s remaining hand in both of his. ‘I understand you have some concerns about our participation in the assault—’</p>
<p>‘It was the lack of it that bothered me!’ snapped Brint, twisting his fingers free.</p>
<p>Cosca pushed out his lips with an air of injured innocence. ‘You feel we fell short of our contractual obligations?’</p>
<p>‘You’ve fallen short of honour, decency, professionalism—’</p>
<p>‘I recall no reference to them in the contract,’ said Temple.</p>
<p>‘You were ordered to attack! Your failure to do so cost the lives of several of my men, one a personal friend!’</p>
<p>Cosca waved a lazy hand, as though personal friends were ephemera that could hardly be expected to bear on an adult discussion. ‘We were engaged here, General Brint, quite hotly.’</p>
<p>‘In a bloodless exchange of arrows!’</p>
<p>‘You speak as though a bloody exchange would be preferable.’ Temple held out his hand to Friendly. The sergeant produced the contract from an inside pocket. ‘Clause eight, I believe.’ He swiftly found the place and presented it for inspection. ‘Technically, any exchange of projectiles constitutes engagement. Each member of the Company is, in fact, due a bonus as a result.’</p>
<p>Brint looked pale. ‘A bonus, too? Despite the fact that not one man was wounded.’</p>
<p>Cosca cleared his throat. ‘We do have a case of dysentery.’</p>
<p>‘Is that a joke?’</p>
<p>‘Not to anyone who has suffered the ravages of dysentery, I assure you!’</p>
<p>‘Clause nineteen…’ Paper crackled as Temple thumbed through the densely written document. ‘ “Any man rendered inactive by illness during the discharge of his contractual obligations is to be considered a loss to the Company.” A further payment is therefore due for the replacement of losses. Not to mention those for prisoners taken and delivered—’</p>
<p>‘It all comes down to money, doesn’t it?’</p>
<p>Cosca shrugged so high his gilt epaulettes tickled his earlobes. ‘What else would it come down to? We are mercenaries. Better motives we leave to better men.’</p>
<p>Brint gazed at Temple, positively livid. ‘You must be delighted with your wriggling, you Gurkish worm.’</p>
<p>‘You were happy to put your name to the terms, General.’ Temple flipped over the back page to display Brint’s overwrought signature. ‘My delight or otherwise does not enter the case. Nor does my wriggling. And I am generally agreed to be half-Dagoskan, half-Styrian, since you bring my parentage into—’</p>
<p>‘You’re a brown bastard son of a whore.’</p>
<p>Temple only smiled. ‘My mother was never ashamed of her profession–why should I be?’</p>
<p>The general stared at Superior Pike, who had taken a seat on a lichen-splattered block of masonry, produced a haunch of bread and was trying to entice birds down from the crumbling ruin with faint kissing sounds. ‘Am I to understand that you approve of this licensed banditry, Superior? This contractual cowardice, this outrageous—’</p>
<p>‘General Brint.’ Pike’s voice was gentle, but somewhere in it had a screeching edge which, like the movement of rusty hinges, enforced wincing silence. ‘We all appreciate the diligence you and your men have displayed. But the war is over. We won.’ He tossed some crumbs into the grass and watched a tiny bird flit down and begin to peck. ‘It is not fitting that we quibble over who did what. You signed the contract. We will honour it. We are not barbarians.’</p>
<p>‘ <em>We</em> are not.’ Brint gave Temple, then Cosca, then Friendly a furious glare. They were all, each in his way, unmoved. ‘I must get some air. There is a sickening <em>stench</em> here!’ And with some effort the general hauled himself back into his saddle, turned his horse and thundered away, pursued by several aides-de-camp.</p>
<p>‘I find the air quite pleasant,’ said Temple brightly, somewhat relieved that confrontation at least was over.</p>
<p>‘Pray forgive the general,’ said Pike ‘He is very much committed to his work.’</p>
<p>‘I try always to be forgiving of other men’s foibles,’ said Cosca. ‘I have enough of my own, after all.’</p>
<p>Pike did not attempt to deny it. ‘I have further work for you even so. Inquisitor Lorsen, could you explain?’ And he turned back to his birds, as though his meeting was with them and the rest a troublesome distraction.</p>
<p>Lorsen stepped forward, evidently relishing his moment. ‘The rebellion is at an end. The Inquisition is weeding out all those disloyal to the crown. Some few rebels have escaped, however, scattering through the passes and into the uncivilised west where, no doubt, they will foment new discord.’</p>
<p>‘Cowardly bastards!’ Cosca slapped at his thigh. ‘Could they not stand and be slaughtered like decent men? I’m all for fermentation but fomentation is a damned imposition!’</p>
<p>Lorsen narrowed his eyes as though at a contrary wind, and ploughed on. ‘For political reasons, his Majesty’s armies are unable to pursue them.’</p>
<p>‘Political reasons…’ offered Temple, ‘such as a border?’</p>
<p>‘Precisely,’ said Lorsen.</p>
<p>Cosca examined his ridged and yellowed fingernails. ‘Oh, I’ve never taken those very seriously.’</p>
<p>‘Precisely,’ said Pike.</p>
<p>‘We want the Company of the Gracious Hand to cross the mountains and pacify the Near Country as far west as the Sokwaya River. This rot of rebellion must be excised once and for all.’ Lorsen cut at imaginary filth with the edge of his hand, voice rising as he warmed to his subject. ‘We must clean out this sink of depravity which has too long been allowed to fester on our border! This… overflowing latrine! This backed-up sewer, endlessly disgorging its ordure of chaos into the Union!’</p>
<p>Temple reflected that, for a man who professed himself opposed to ordure, Inquisitor Lorsen certainly relished a shit-based metaphor.</p>
<p>‘Well, no one enjoys a backed-up sewer,’ conceded Cosca. ‘Except the sewer-men themselves, I suppose, who scratch out their wretched livings in the sludge. Unblocking the drains is a speciality of ours, isn’t it, Sergeant Friendly?’</p>
<p>The big man looked up from his dice long enough to shrug.</p>
<p>‘Temple is the linguist but perhaps I might in this case interpret?’ The Old Man twisted the waxed tips of his grey moustaches between finger and thumb. ‘You wish us to visit a plague upon the settlers of the Near Country. You wish us to make stern examples of every rebel sheltered and every person who gives them shelter. You wish us to make them understand that their only future is with the grace and favour of his August Majesty. You wish us to force them into the welcoming arms of the Union. Do I come close to the mark?’</p>
<p>‘Close enough,’ murmured Superior Pike.</p>
<p>Temple found that he was sweating. When he wiped his forehead his hand trembled. But what could he do?</p>
<p>‘The Paper of Engagement is already prepared.’ Lorsen produced his own sheaf of crackling documents, a heavy seal of red wax upon its bottom corner.</p>
<p>Cosca waved it away. ‘My notary will look it over. All the legal fiddle-faddle quite swims before my eyes. I am a simple soldier.’</p>
<p>‘Admirable,’ said Pike, his hairless brows raised by the slightest fraction.</p>
<p>Temple’s ink-spotted forefinger traced through the blocks of calligraphy, eyes flickering from one point of interest to another. He realised he was picking nervously at the corners of the pages and made himself stop.</p>
<p>‘I will accompany you on the expedition,’ said Lorsen. ‘I have a list of settlements suspected of harbouring rebels. Or rebellious sentiment.’</p>
<p>Cosca grinned. ‘Nothing more dangerous than sentiment!’</p>
<p>‘In particular, his Eminence the Arch Lector offers a bonus of fifty thousand marks for the capture, alive, of the chief instigator of the insurrection, the one the rebels call Conthus. He goes also under the name of Symok. The Ghosts call him Black Grass. At the massacre in Rostod he used the alias—’</p>
<p>‘No further aliases, I beg you!’ Cosca massaged the sides of his skull as if they pained him. ‘Since suffering a head-wound at the Battle of Afieri I have been cursed with an appalling memory for names. It is a source of constant embarrassment. But Sergeant Friendly has all the details. If your man Conshus—’</p>
<p>‘Conthus.’</p>
<p>‘What did I say?’</p>
<p>‘Conshus.’</p>
<p>‘There you go! If he’s in the Near Country, he’ll be yours.’</p>
<p>Alive,’ snapped Lorsen. ‘He must answer for his crimes. He must be made a lesson of. He must be put on display!’</p>
<p>‘And he’ll make a most educational show, I’m sure!’</p>
<p>Pike flicked another pinch of crumbs to his gathering flock. ‘The methods we leave to you, captain general. We would only ask that there be something left in the ashes to annexe.’</p>
<p>‘As long as you realise a Company of mercenaries is more club than scalpel.’</p>
<p>‘His Eminence has chosen the method and understands its limitations.’</p>
<p>‘An inspirational man, the Arch Lector. We are close friends, you know.’</p>
<p>‘His one firm stipulation, clear in the contract, as you see, is that you avoid any Imperial entanglements. Any and all, am I understood?’ That grating note entered Pike’s voice again. ‘Legate Sarmis still haunts the border like an angry phantom. I do not suppose he will cross it but even so he is a man decidedly not to be trifled with, a most bloody-minded and bloody-handed adversary. His Eminence desires no further wars at present.’</p>
<p>‘Do not concern yourself, I avoid fighting wherever possible.’ Cosca slapped happily at the hilt of his blade. A sword is for rattling, not for drawing, eh?’</p>
<p>‘We have a gift for you, also.’ Superior Pike indicated the fortified wagon, an oaken monster bound in riveted iron and hauled by a team of eight muscular horses. It was halfway between conveyance and castle, with slitted windows and a crenelated parapet about the top, from which defenders might presumably shoot at circling enemies. Far from the most practical of gifts, but then Cosca had never been interested in practicalities.</p>
<p>‘For me?’ The Old Man pressed his withered hands to his gilded breastplate. ‘It shall be my home from home out in the wilderness!’</p>
<p>‘There is a… <em>secret</em> within,’ said Lorsen. ‘Something his Eminence would very much like to see tested.’</p>
<p>‘I love surprises! Ones that don’t involve armed men behind me, anyway. You may tell his Eminence it will be my honour.’ Cosca stood, wincing as his aged knees audibly clicked. ‘How does the Paper of Engagement appear?’</p>
<p>Temple looked up from the penultimate page. ‘Er…’ The contract was closely based on the one he had drawn up for their previous engagement, was watertight in every particular, was even more generous in several. ‘Some issues with supply,’ he stammered, fumbling for objections. ‘Food and weaponry are covered but the clause really should include—’</p>
<p>‘Details. No cause for delay. Let’s get the papers signed and the men ready to move. The longer they sit idle, the harder to get them off their arses. No force of nature so dangerous to life and commerce as mercenaries without employment.’ Except, perhaps, mercenaries with employment.</p>
<p>‘It would be prudent to allow me a little longer to—’</p>
<p>Cosca came close, setting his hand on Temple’s shoulder again. ‘Have you a legal objection?’</p>
<p>Temple paused, clutching for some words which might carry weight with a man with whom nothing carried any weight. ‘Not a legal objection, no.’</p>
<p>‘A financial objection?’ offered Cosca.</p>
<p>‘No, General.’</p>
<p>‘Then…?’</p>
<p>‘Do you remember when we first met?’</p>
<p>Cosca suddenly flashed that luminous smile of which only he was capable, good humour and good intentions radiating from his deep-lined face. ‘Of course. I wore that blue uniform, you the brown rags.’</p>
<p>‘You said…’ It hardly felt possible, now. ‘You said we would do good together.’</p>
<p>And haven’t we, in the main? Legally <em>and</em> financially?’ As though the entire spectrum of goodness ranged between those twin poles.</p>
<p>‘And… morally?’</p>
<p>The Old Man’s forehead furrowed as though it was a word in a foreign tongue. ‘Morally?’</p>
<p>‘General, please.’ Temple fixed Cosca with his most earnest expression. And Temple knew he could be earnest, when he truly believed. Or had a great deal to lose. ‘I beg you. Do not sign this paper. This will not be war, it will be murder.’</p>
<p>Cosca’s brows went up. ‘A fine distinction, to the buried.’</p>
<p>‘We are not judges! What happens to the people of these towns once the men get among them, hungry for plunder? Women and children, General, who had no part in any rebellion. We are better than this.’</p>
<p>‘We are? You did not say so in Kadir. You persuaded me to sign that contract, if I recall.’</p>
<p>‘Well—’</p>
<p>And in Styria, was it not you who encouraged me to take back what was mine?’</p>
<p>‘You had a valid claim—’</p>
<p>‘Before we took ship to the North, you helped me persuade the men. You can be damned persuasive when you have a mind.’</p>
<p>‘Then let me persuade you now. Please, General Cosca. Do not sign.’</p>
<p>There was a long pause. Cosca heaved in a breath, his forehead creasing yet more deeply. A <em>conscientious</em> objection, then.’</p>
<p>‘Conscience is,’ muttered Temple hopefully, ‘a splinter of the divine?’ Not to mention a shitty navigator, and it had led him into some dangerous waters now. He realised he was picking nervously at the hem of his shirt as Cosca gazed upon him. ‘I simply have a feeling this job…’ He struggled for words that might turn the tide of inevitability. ‘Will go bad,’ he finished, lamely.</p>
<p>‘Good jobs rarely require the services of mercenaries.’ Cosca’s hand squeezed a little tighter at his shoulder and Temple felt Friendly’s looming presence behind him. Still, and silent, and yet very much <em>there.</em> ‘Men of conscience and conviction might find themselves better suited to other lines of work. His Majesty’s Inquisition offers a righteous cause, I understand?’</p>
<p>Temple swallowed as he looked across at Superior Pike, who had now attracted a twittering avian crowd. ‘I’m not sure I care for their brand of righteousness.’</p>
<p>‘Well, that’s the thing about righteousness,’ murmured Cosca, ‘everyone has their own brand. Gold, on the other hand, is universal. In my considerable experience, a man is better off worrying about what is good for his purse than what is simply… good.’</p>
<p>‘I just—’</p>
<p>Cosca squeezed still more firmly. ‘Without wishing to be harsh, Temple, it isn’t all about <em>you.</em> I have the welfare of the whole company to think of. Five hundred men.’</p>
<p>‘Five hundred and twelve,’ said Friendly.</p>
<p>‘Plus one with dysentery. I cannot inconvenience them for the sake of your <em>feelings.</em> That would be… <em>immoral.</em> I need you, Temple. But if you wish to leave…’ Cosca issued a weighty sigh. ‘In spite of all your promises, in spite of my generosity, in spite of everything we have been through together, well…’ He held out an arm towards burning Mulkova and raised his brows. ‘I suppose the door is always open.’</p>
<p>Temple swallowed. He could have left. He could have said he wanted no part of this. Enough is enough, damn it! But that would have taken courage. That would have left him with no armed men at his back. Alone, and weak, and a victim once again. That would have been hard to do. And Temple always took the easy way. Even when he knew it was the wrong way. Especially then, in fact, since easy and wrong make such good company. Even when he had a damn good notion it would end up being the hard way, even then. Why think about tomorrow when today is such a thorny business?</p>
<p>Perhaps Kahdia would have found some way to stop this. Something involving supreme self-sacrifice, most likely. Temple, it hardly needed to be said, was not Kahdia. He wiped away a fresh sheen of sweat, forced a queasy smile onto his face and bowed. ‘I remain always honoured to serve.’</p>
<p>‘Excellent!’ And Cosca plucked the contract from Temple’s limp hand and spread it out to sign upon a sheered-off column.</p>
<p>Superior Pike stood, brushing crumbs from his shapeless black coat and sending birds scattering. ‘Do you know what’s out there, in the west?’</p>
<p>He let the question hang a moment. Below them the faint jingling, groaning, snapping could be heard of his Practicals dragging the prisoners away. Then he answered himself.</p>
<p>‘The future. And the future does not belong to the Old Empire–their time is a thousand years past. Nor does it belong to the Ghosts, savages that they are. Nor does it belong to the fugitives, adventurers and opportunist scum who have put the first grasping roots into its virgin soil. No. The future belongs to the Union. We must seize it.’</p>
<p>‘We must not be afraid to do what is necessary to seize it,’ added Lorsen.</p>
<p>‘Never fear, gentlemen.’ Cosca grinned as he scratched out the parting swirl of his signature. ‘We will seize the future together.’</p>
<h2>Just Men</h2>
<p>The rain had stopped. Shy peered through trees alive with the tap-tap of falling water, past a felled trunk abandoned on its trestles, part-stripped, the drawknife left wedged under a curl of bark, and towards the blackened bones of the house.</p>
<p>‘Not hard bastards to follow,’ muttered Lamb. ‘Leave burned-out buildings wherever they go.’</p>
<p>Probably they thought they’d killed anyone cared enough to follow. What might happen once they noticed Lamb and Shy toddling after in their rickety wagon, she was trying not to think about.</p>
<p>Time was she’d thought out everything, every moment of every day–hers, Lamb’s, Gully’s, Pit and Ro’s, too–all parcelled into its proper place with its proper purpose. Always looking forwards, the future better than the now, its shape clear to her as a house already built. Hard to believe since that time it was just five nights spent under the flapping canvas in the back of the cart. Five mornings waking stiff and sore to a dawn like a pit yawning under her feet. Five days following the sign across the empty grassland and into the woods, one eye on her black past, wondering what part of it had crept from the cold earth’s clutches and stolen her life while she was grinning at tomorrow.</p>
<p>Her fingertips rubbed nervously against her palm. ‘Shall we take a look?’ Truth was she was scared what she might find. Scared of looking and scared of not looking. Worn out and scared of everything with a hollow space where her hopes used to be.</p>
<p>‘I’ll go round the back.’ Lamb brushed his knees off with his hat and started circling the clearing, twigs crunching under his boots, a set of startled pigeons yammering into the white sky, giving anyone about fair notice of their arrival. Not that there was anyone about. Leastways, no one living.</p>
<p>There was an overgrown vegetable patch out back, stubborn soil scraped away to make a trench no more than ankle-deep. Next to it a soaked blanket was stretched over something lumpy. From the bottom stuck a pair of boots and a pair of bony bare feet with dirt under the bluish nails.</p>
<p>Lamb squatted down, took one corner and peeled it back. A man’s face and a woman’s, grey and slack, both with throats cut deep. The woman’s head lolled, the wound in her neck yawning wet and purple.</p>
<p>Ah.’ Shy pressed her tongue into the gap between her front teeth and stared at the ground. Would’ve taken quite the optimist to expect anything else, and she by no means qualified, but those faces still tore at something in her. Worry for Pit and Ro, or worry for herself, or just a sick memory of a sick time when bodies weren’t such strange things for her to see.</p>
<p>‘Leave ’em be, you bastards!’</p>
<p>First thing Shy took in was the gleam on the arrowhead. Next was the hand that held the drawn bow, knuckles white on dark wood. Last was the face behind–a boy maybe sixteen, a mop of sandy hair stuck to pale skin with the wet.</p>
<p>‘I’ll kill you! I’ll do it!’ He eased from the bushes, feet fishing for firm earth to tread on, shadows sliding across his tight face and his hand trembling on the bow.</p>
<p>Shy made herself stay still, some trick to manage with her first two burning instincts to get at him or get away. Her every muscle was itching to do one or the other, and there’d been a time Shy had chased off wherever her instincts led. But since they’d usually led her by an unpleasant route right into the shit, she let the bastards run off without her this time and just stood, looking this boy steady in the eyes. Scared eyes, which was no surprise, open wide and shining in the corners. She kept her voice soft, like they’d met at a harvest dance and had no burned-out buildings, dead folk or drawn bows between them.</p>
<p>‘What’s your name?’</p>
<p>His tongue darted over his lips, point of the arrow wobbling and making her chest horrible itchy about where it was aimed.</p>
<p>‘I’m Shy. This is Lamb.’</p>
<p>The boy’s eyes flicked across, and his bow too. Lamb didn’t flinch, just put the blanket back how he’d found it and slowly stood. Seeing him with the boy’s fresh eyes, he looked anything but harmless. Even with that tangle of grey beard you could tell a man would have to be real careless with his razor to pick up scars like Lamb’s by accident. Shy had always guessed he’d got them in some war up North, but if he’d been a fighter once there was no fight in him now. Some kind of coward like she’d always said. But this boy wasn’t to know.</p>
<p>‘We been following some men.’ Shy kept her voice soft, soft, coaxing the boy’s eyes and his arrow’s point back to her. ‘They burned our farm, up near Squaredeal. They burned it, and they killed a man worked for us, and they took my sister and my little brother…’ Her voice cracked and she had to swallow and press it out smooth again. ‘We been following on.’</p>
<p>‘Reckon they been here, too,’ said Lamb.</p>
<p>‘We been tracking ’em. Maybe twenty men, moving quick.’ The arrow-point started to drift down. ‘They stopped off at a couple more farms on the way. Same thing. Then we followed ’em into the woods. And here.’</p>
<p>‘I’d been hunting,’ said the boy quietly.</p>
<p>Shy nodded. ‘We were in town. Selling our crop.’</p>
<p>‘I came back, and…’ That point made it right down to the ground, much to Shy’s relief. ‘Nothing I could’ve done.’</p>
<p>‘No.’</p>
<p>‘They took my brother.’</p>
<p>‘What was his name?’</p>
<p>‘Evin. He was nine years old.’</p>
<p>Silence, with just the trees still dripping and the gentle creak as the boy let his bowstring go slack.</p>
<p>‘You know who they were?’ asked Lamb.</p>
<p>‘I didn’t see ’em.’</p>
<p>‘You know why they took your brother?’</p>
<p>‘I said I wasn’t here, didn’t I? I wasn’t here.’</p>
<p>‘All right,’ said Shy, calming. ‘I know.’</p>
<p>‘You following after ’em?’ asked the boy.</p>
<p>‘We’re just about keeping up,’ said Lamb.</p>
<p>‘Going to get your sister and your brother back?’</p>
<p>‘Count on it,’ said Shy, as if sounding certain made it certain.</p>
<p>‘Can you get mine, too?’</p>
<p>Shy looked at Lamb, and he looked back, and he didn’t say nothing. ‘We can try,’ she said.</p>
<p>‘Reckon I’ll be coming along with you, then.’</p>
<p>Another silence. ‘You sure?’ asked Lamb.</p>
<p>‘I can do what needs doing, y’old bastard!’ screamed the boy, veins popping from his neck.</p>
<p>Lamb didn’t twitch a muscle. ‘We don’t know what’ll need doing yet.’</p>
<p>‘There’s room in the wagon, though, if you want to take your part.’ Shy held her hand out to the boy, and he looked at it for a moment, then stepped forward and shook it. He squeezed it too hard, that way men do when they’re trying to prove they’re tougher than they are.</p>
<p>‘My name’s Leef.’</p>
<p>Shy nodded towards the two bodies. ‘These your folks?’</p>
<p>The boy blinked down at them. ‘I been trying to do the burying, but the ground’s hard, and I got nothing to dig with.’ He rubbed at his broken fingernails with his thumb. ‘I been trying.’</p>
<p>‘Need some help?’ she asked.</p>
<p>His face crushed up, and he hung his head, and he nodded, wet hair dangling.</p>
<p>‘We all need some help, time to time,’ said Lamb. ‘I’ll get them shovels down.’</p>
<p>Shy reached out, checked a moment, then gently put her hand on the boy’s shoulder. She felt him tense, thought he’d shake it off, but he didn’t and she was glad. Maybe she needed it there more than he did.</p>
<p>On they went, gone from two to three but otherwise not much changed. Same wind, same sky, same tracks to be followed, same worried silence between them. The wagon was wearing out on the battered tracks, lurching more with each mile rattled behind those patient oxen. One of the wheels had near shook itself to pieces inside its iron tyre. Shy felt some sympathy, behind her frown she was all shook to pieces herself. They loaded out the gear and let the oxen loose to crop grass, and Lamb lifted one side of the wagon with a grunt and a shrug while Shy did the best she could with the tools she had and her half-sack of nails, Leef eager to do his part but that no more than passing her the hammer when she asked.</p>
<p>The tracks led to a river and forded at a shallow spot. Calder and Scale weren’t too keen on the crossing but in the end Shy goaded them over to a tall mill-house, stone-built on three stories. Those they were chasing hadn’t bothered to try and burn this one and its wheel still slapped around merrily in the chattering water. Two men and a woman were hanged together in a bunch from the attic window. One had a broken neck stretched out way too long, another feet burned raw, dangling a stride above the mud.</p>
<p>Leef stared up big-eyed. ‘What kind o’ men do a thing like this?’</p>
<p>‘Just men,’ said Shy. ‘Thing like this don’t take no one special.’ Though at times it felt to her that they were following something else. Some mad storm blowing mindless through this abandoned country, churning up the dirt and leaving bottles and shit and burned buildings and hanged folk scattered in its wake. A storm that snatched away all the children to who knew where and to what purpose? ‘You care to go up there, Leef, and cut these folks down?’</p>
<p>He looked like he didn’t much care to, but he drew his knife and went inside to do it anyway.</p>
<p>‘Feels like we’re doing a lot of burying lately,’ she muttered.</p>
<p>‘Good thing you got Clay to throw them shovels in,’ said Lamb.</p>
<p>She laughed at that, then realised what she was laughing at and turned it into an ugly cough. Leef’s head showed at the window and he leaned out, started cutting at the ropes, making the bodies tremble. ‘Seems wrong, us having to clean up after these bastards.’</p>
<p>‘Someone has to.’ Lamb held one of the shovels out to her. ‘Or do you want to leave these folks swinging?’</p>
<p>Towards evening, the low sun setting the edges of the clouds to burn and the wind making the trees dance and sweeping patterns in the grass, they came upon a campsite. A big fire had smouldered out under the eaves of a wood, a circle of charred branches and sodden ash three strides across. Shy hopped from the wagon while Lamb was still cooing Scale and Calder to a snorting halt, and she drew her knife and gave the fire a poke, turned up some embers still aglow.</p>
<p>‘They were here overnight,’ she called.</p>
<p>‘We’re catching ’em, then?’ asked Leef as he jumped down, nocking an arrow loose to his bow.</p>
<p>‘I reckon.’ Though Shy couldn’t help wondering if that was a good thing. She dragged a length of frayed rope from the grass, found a cobweb torn between bushes at the treeline, then a shred of cloth left on a bramble.</p>
<p>‘Someone come this way?’ asked Leef.</p>
<p>‘More’n one. And fast.’ Shy slipped through after, keeping low, crept down a muddy slope, slick dirt and fallen leaves treacherous under her boots, trying to keep her balance and peer into the dimness—</p>
<p>She saw Pit, face down by a fallen tree, looking so small there among the knotted roots. She wanted to scream but had no voice, no breath even. She ran, slid on her side in a shower of dead leaves and ran again. She squatted by him, back of his head a clotted mass, hand trembling as she reached out, not wanting to see his face, having to see it. She held her breath as she wrestled him over, his body small but stiff as a board, brushed away the leaves stuck to his face with fumbling fingers.</p>
<p>‘Is it your brother?’ muttered Leef.</p>
<p>‘No.’ She was almost sick with relief. Then with guilt that she was relieved, when this boy was dead. ‘Is it yours?’</p>
<p>‘No,’ said Leef.</p>
<p>Shy slid her hands under the dead child and picked him up, struggled up the slope, Leef behind her. Lamb stood staring between the trees at the top, a black shape stamped from the glow of sunset.</p>
<p>‘Is it him?’ came his cracking voice. ‘Is it Pit?’</p>
<p>‘No.’ Shy laid him on the flattened grass, arms stuck out wide, head tipped back rigid.</p>
<p>‘By the dead.’ Lamb had his fingers shoved into his grey hair, gripping at his head like it might burst.</p>
<p>‘Might be he tried to get away. They made a lesson of him.’ She hoped Ro didn’t try it. Hoped she was too clever to. Hoped she was cleverer than Shy had been at her age. She leaned on the wagon with her back to the others, squeezed her eyes shut and wiped the tears away. Dug the bastard shovels out and brought them back.</p>
<p>‘More fucking digging,’ spat Leef, hacking at the ground like it was the one stole his brother.</p>
<p>‘Better off digging than getting buried,’ said Lamb.</p>
<p>Shy left them to the graves and the oxen to their grazing and spread out in circles, keeping low, fingers combing at the cold grass, trying to read the signs in the fading light. Trying to feel out what they’d done, what they’d do next.</p>
<p>‘Lamb.’</p>
<p>He grunted as he squatted beside her, slapping the dirt from his gloves. ‘What is it?’</p>
<p>‘Looks like three of ’em peeled off here, heading south and east. The rest struck on due west. What do you think?’</p>
<p>‘I try not to. You’re the tracker. Though when you got so damn good at it, I’ve no notion.’</p>
<p>‘Just a question of thinking it through.’ Shy didn’t want to admit that chasing men and being chased are sides to one coin, and at being chased she’d two years of the harshest practice.</p>
<p>‘They split up?’ asked Leef.</p>
<p>Lamb fussed at that notch out of his ear as he looked off south. ‘Some style of a disagreement?’</p>
<p>‘Could be. Or maybe they sent ’em to circle around, check if anyone was following.’</p>
<p>Leef fumbled for an arrow, eyes darting about the horizon.</p>
<p>Lamb waved him down. ‘If they’d a mind to check, they’d have seen us by now.’ He kept looking south, off along the treeline towards a low ridge, the way Shy thought those three had gone. ‘No. I reckon they had enough. Maybe it all went too far for ’em. Maybe they started thinking they might be the next left hanging. Either way we’ll follow. Hope to catch ’em before the wheels come off this cart for good. Or off me either,’ he added as he dragged himself up wincing into the wagon’s seat.</p>
<p>‘The children ain’t with those three,’ said Leef, turning sullen.</p>
<p>‘No.’ Lamb settled his hat back on. ‘But they might point us the right way. We need to get this wagon fixed up proper, find some new oxen or get ourselves some horses. We need food. Might be those three—’</p>
<p>‘You fucking old coward.’</p>
<p>There was a pause. Then Lamb nodded over at Shy. ‘Me and her spent years chewing over that topic and you got naught worth adding to the conversation.’ Shy looked at them, the boy stood on the ground glowering up, the big old man looking down calm and even from his seat.</p>
<p>Leef curled his lip. ‘We need to keep after the children or—’</p>
<p>‘Get up on the wagon, boy, or you’ll be keeping after the children alone.’</p>
<p>Leef opened his mouth again but Shy caught him by the arm first. ‘I want to catch ’em just as much as you, but Lamb’s right–there’s twenty men out there, bad men, and armed, and willing. There’s nothing we could do.’</p>
<p>‘We got to catch ’em sooner or later, don’t we?’ snapped Leef, breathing hard. ‘Might as well be now while my brother and yours are still alive!’</p>
<p>Shy had to admit he’d a point but there was no help for it. She held his eye and said it to his face, calm but with no give. ‘Get on the wagon, Leef.’</p>
<p>This time he did as he was told, and clambered up among their gear and sat there silent with his back to them.</p>
<p>Shy perched her bruised arse next to Lamb as he snapped the reins and got Scale and Calder reluctantly on the move. ‘What do we do if we catch these three?’ she muttered, keeping her voice down so Leef wouldn’t hear it. ‘Chances are they’re going to be armed and willing, too. Better armed than us, that’s sure.’</p>
<p>‘Reckon we’ll have to be more willing, then.’</p>
<p>Her brows went up at that. This big, gentle Northman who used to run laughing through the wheat with Pit on one shoulder and Ro on the other, used to sit out at sunset with Gully, passing a bottle between ’em in silence for hours at a time, who’d never once laid a hand on her growing up in spite of some sore provocations, talking about getting red to the elbows like it was nothing.</p>
<p>Shy knew it wasn’t nothing.</p>
<p>She closed her eyes and remembered Jeg’s face after she stabbed him, bloody hat brim jammed down over his eyes, pitching in the street, still muttering, <em>Smoke, Smoke.</em> That clerk in the store, staring at her as his shirt turned black. The look Dodd had as he gawped down at her arrow in his chest. <em>What did you do that for?</em></p>
<p>She rubbed her face hard with one hand, sweating of a sudden, heart banging in her ears hard as it had then, and she twisted inside her greasy clothes like she could twist free of the past. But it had good and caught her up. For Pit and Ro’s sake she had to get her hands red again. She curled her fingers around the grip of her knife, took a hard breath and set her jaw. No choice then. No choice now. And for men the likes of the ones they followed no tears needed shedding.</p>
<p>‘When we find ’em,’ her voice sounding tiny in the gathering darkness, ‘can you follow my lead?’</p>
<p>‘No,’ said Lamb.</p>
<p>‘Eh?’ He’d been following her lead so long she’d never thought he might find some other path.</p>
<p>When she looked at him, his old, scarred face was twisted like he was in pain. ‘I made a promise to your mother. ’Fore she died. Made a promise to look to her children. Pit and Ro… and I reckon it covers you too, don’t it?’</p>
<p>‘I guess,’ she muttered, far from reassured.</p>
<p>‘I broke a lot of promises in my life. Let ’em wash away like leaves on the water.’ He rubbed at his eyes with the back of one gloved hand. ‘I mean to keep that one. So when we find ’em… you’ll be following my lead. This time.’</p>
<p>‘All right.’ She could say so, if it helped him.</p>
<p>Then she could do what needed doing.</p>
<h2>The Best Man</h2>
<p>‘I believe this is Squaredeal,’ said Inquisitor Lorsen, frowning at his map.</p>
<p>‘And is Squaredeal on the Superior’s list?’ asked Cosca.</p>
<p>‘It is.’ Lorsen made sure there was nothing in his voice that could be interpreted as uncertainty. He was the only man within a hundred miles in possession of anything resembling a cause. He could entertain no doubts.</p>
<p>Superior Pike had said the future was out here in the west, but the town of Squaredeal did not look like the future through Inquisitor Lorsen’s eyeglass. It did not look like a present anyone with the choice would want a part in. The people scratching a living out of the Near Country were even poorer than he had expected. Fugitives and outcasts, misfits and failures. Poor enough that supporting a rebellion against the world’s most powerful nation was unlikely to be their first priority. But Lorsen could not concern himself with likelihoods. Allowances, explanations and compromises were likewise unaffordable luxuries. He had learned over many painful years managing a prison camp in Angland that people had to be sorted onto the right side or the wrong, and those on the wrong could be given no mercy. He took no pleasure in it, but a better world comes at a price.</p>
<p>He folded his map, scored the sharp crease with the back of his thumbnail and thrust it inside his coat. ‘Get your men ready to attack, General.’</p>
<p>‘Mmmm.’ Lorsen was surprised to see, on glancing sideways, that Cosca was in the midst of sipping from a metal flask.</p>
<p>‘Isn’t it a little early for spirits?’ he forced through clenched teeth. It was, after all, but an hour or two after dawn.</p>
<p>Cosca shrugged. A good thing at teatime is surely a good thing at breakfast, too.’</p>
<p>‘Likewise a bad thing,’ grated Lorsen.</p>
<p>Heedless, Cosca took another taste and noisily smacked his lips. ‘Though it might be best if you didn’t mention this to Temple. He worries, bless him. He thinks of me almost as a father. He was in some extremity when I came upon him, you know—’</p>
<p>‘Fascinating,’ snapped Lorsen. ‘Get your men <em>ready.’</em></p>
<p>‘Right away, Inquisitor.’ The venerable mercenary screwed the cap back on–tightly, as if he was resolved never again to unscrew it–then began, with much stiffness and little dignity, to slither down the hillside.</p>
<p>He gave every impression of being a loathsome man, and one who the rude hand of time had in no way improved: inexpressibly vain, trustworthy as a scorpion and an utter stranger to morality. But after a few days with the Company of the Gracious Hand, Inquisitor Lorsen had regretfully concluded that Cosca, or the Old Man as he was fondly known, might be the best among them. His direct underlings offered no counter-arguments. Captain Brachio was a vile Styrian with an eye made always weepy by an old wound. He was a fine rider but fat as a house, and had turned self-serving indolence into a religion. Captain Jubair, a hulking, tar-black Kantic, had done the opposite and turned religion into self-serving madness. Rumour had it he was an ex-slave who had once fought in a pit. Though now far removed, Lorsen suspected some part of the pit remained within him. Captain Dimbik was at least a Union man, but a reject from the army for incompetence and a weak-chinned, petulant one at that who felt the need to affect a threadbare sash as a reminder of past glories. Though balding he had grown his hair long and, rather than merely bald, he now looked both bald and a fool.</p>
<p>As far as Lorsen could tell, none of them truly believed in anything but their own profit. Notwithstanding Cosca’s affection, the lawyer, Temple, was the worst of the crew, celebrating selfishness, greed and underhanded manipulation as virtues, a man so slimy he could have found employment as axle grease. Lorsen shuddered as he looked across the other faces swarming about Superior Pike’s huge fortified wagon: wretched leavings of every race and mongrel combination, variously scarred, diseased, besmirched, all leering in anticipation of plunder and violence.</p>
<p>But filthy tools can be put to righteous purposes, can they not, and achieve noble ends? He hoped it would prove so. The rebel Conthus was hiding somewhere in this forsaken land, skulking and plotting more sedition and massacre. He had to be rooted out, whatever the costs. He had to be made an example of, so that Lorsen could reap the glory of his capture. He took one last look through his eyeglass towards Squaredeal–all still quiet–before snapping it closed and working his way down the slope.</p>
<p>Temple was talking softly to Cosca at the bottom, a whining note in his voice which Lorsen found especially aggravating. ‘Couldn’t we, maybe… talk to the townspeople?’</p>
<p>‘We will,’ said Cosca. ‘As soon as we’ve secured forage.’</p>
<p>‘Robbed them, you mean.’</p>
<p>Cosca slapped Temple on the arm. ‘You lawyers! You see straight to the heart of things!’</p>
<p>‘There must be a better way—’</p>
<p>‘I have spent my life searching for one and the search has led me here. We signed a contract, Temple, as you well know, and Inquisitor Lorsen means to see us keep our end of the bargain, eh, Inquisitor?’</p>
<p>‘I will insist upon it,’ grated Lorsen, treating Temple to a poisonous glare.</p>
<p>‘If you wanted to avoid bloodshed,’ said Cosca, ‘you really should have spoken up beforehand.’</p>
<p>The lawyer blinked. ‘I did.’</p>
<p>The Old Man raised helpless palms to indicate the mercenaries arming, mounting, drinking and otherwise preparing themselves for violence. ‘Not eloquently enough, evidently. How many men have we fit to fight?’</p>
<p>‘Four hundred and thirty-two,’ said Friendly, instantly. The neckless sergeant appeared to Lorsen to have two uncanny specialities: silent menace and numbers. Aside from the sixty-four who chose not to join the expedition, there have been eleven deserters since we left Mulkova, and five taken ill.’</p>
<p>Cosca shrugged them away. ‘Some wastage is inevitable. The fewer our numbers, the greater each share of glory, eh, Sworbreck?’</p>
<p>The writer, a ludicrous indulgence on this expedition, looked anything but convinced. ‘I… suppose?’</p>
<p>‘Glory is hard to count,’ said Friendly.</p>
<p>‘So true,’ lamented Cosca. ‘Like honour and virtue and all those other desirable intangibles. But the fewer our numbers, the greater each share of the profits too.’</p>
<p>‘Profits can be counted.’</p>
<p>‘And weighed, and felt, and held up to the light,’ said Captain Brachio, rubbing gently at his capacious belly.</p>
<p>‘The logical extension of the argument,’ Cosca twisted the waxed points of his moustaches sharp, ‘would be that all the high ideals in existence are not worth as much as a single bit.’</p>
<p>Lorsen shivered with the most profound disgust. ‘That is a world I could not bear to live in.’</p>
<p>The Old Man grinned. ‘And yet here you are. Is Jubair in position?’</p>
<p>‘Soon,’ grunted Brachio. ‘We’re waiting for his signal.’</p>
<p>Lorsen took a breath through gritted teeth. A crowd of madmen, awaiting the signal of the maddest.</p>
<p>‘It is not too late.’ Sufeen spoke softly so the others could not hear. ‘We could stop this.’</p>
<p>‘Why should we?’ Jubair drew his sword, and saw the fear in Sufeen’s eyes, and felt a pity and a contempt for him. Fear was born of arrogance. Of a belief that everything was not the will of God, and could be changed. But nothing could be changed. Jubair had accepted that many years ago. Since then, he and fear had been entire strangers to each other. ‘This is what God wants,’ he said.</p>
<p>Most men refused to see the truth. Sufeen stared at him as though he was mad. ‘Why would it be God’s desire to punish the innocent?’</p>
<p>‘Innocence is not for you to judge. Nor is it given to man to understand God’s design. If He desires someone saved, He need only turn my sword aside.’</p>
<p>Sufeen slowly shook his head. ‘If that is your God, I do not believe in Him.’</p>
<p>‘What kind of God would He be if your belief could make the slightest difference? Or mine, or anyone’s?’ Jubair lifted the blade, patchy sunlight shining down the long, straight edge, glinting in the many nicks and notches. ‘Disbelieve this sword, it will still cut you. He is God. We all walk His path regardless.’</p>
<p>Sufeen shook his little head again, as though that might change the way of things. ‘What priest taught you this?’</p>
<p>‘I have seen how the world is and judged for myself how it must be.’ He glanced over his shoulder, his men gathering in the wood, armour and weapons prepared for the work, faces eager. ‘Are we ready to attack?’</p>
<p>‘I’ve been down there.’ Sufeen pointed through the brush towards Squaredeal. ‘They have three constables, and two are idiots. I am not sure anything so vigorous as an attack is really necessary, are you?’</p>
<p>It was true there were few defences. A fence of rough-cut logs had once ringed the town but had been partly torn down to allow for growth. The roof of the wooden watchtower was crusted with moss and someone had secured their washing line to one of its supports. The Ghosts had long ago been driven out of this country and the townsfolk evidently expected no other threat. They would soon discover their error.</p>
<p>Jubair’s eyes slid back to Sufeen. ‘I tire of your carping. Give the signal.’</p>
<p>The scout had reluctance in his eyes, and bitterness, but he obeyed, taking out the mirror and crawling to the edge of the treeline to signal Cosca and the others. That was well for him. If he had not obeyed, Jubair would most likely have killed him, and he would have been right so to do.</p>
<p>He tipped his head back and smiled at the blue sky through the black branches, the black leaves. He could do anything and it would be right, for he had made himself a willing puppet of God’s purpose and in so doing freed himself. He alone free, surrounded by slaves. He was the best man in the Near Country. The best man in the Circle of the World. He had no fear, for God was with him.</p>
<p>God was everywhere, always.</p>
<p>How could it be otherwise?</p>
<p>Checking he wasn’t observed, Brachio tugged the locket from his shirt and snapped it open. The two tiny portraits were blistered and faded ’til anyone else would’ve seen little more than smudges, but Brachio knew them. He touched those faces with a gentle fingertip and in his mind they were as they’d been when he left–soft, perfect and smiling, too long ago.</p>
<p>‘Don’t worry, my babies,’ he cooed to them. ‘I’ll be back soon.’</p>
<p>A man has to choose what matters and leave everything else to the dogs. Worry about all of it and you’ll do no good at all. He was the only man in the Company with any sense. Dimbik was a preening mope. Jubair and sanity were entire strangers to each other. For all his craft and cunning, Cosca was a dreamer–this shit with the biographer was proof enough of that.</p>
<p>Brachio was the best of them because he knew what he was. No high ideals, no grand delusions. He was a sensible man with sensible ambitions, doing what he had to, and he was content. His daughters were all that mattered. New dresses, and good food, and good dowries, and good lives. Better lives than the hell he’d lived—</p>
<p>‘Captain Brachio!’ Cosca’s braying voice, loud as ever, snatched him back to the now. ‘There is the signal!’</p>
<p>Brachio snapped the locket closed, wiped his damp eyes on the back of his fist, and straightened the bandolier that held his knives. Cosca had wedged a boot in one stirrup and now bounced once, twice, three times before dragging on his gilt saddle horn. His bulging eyes came level with it before he froze. ‘Could somebody—’</p>
<p>Sergeant Friendly slipped a hand under Cosca’s arse and twitched him effortlessly into the saddle. Once there, the Old Man spent a moment getting his wind back, then, with some effort, drew his blade and hefted it high. ‘Unsheathe your swords!’ He considered that. ‘Or cheaper weapons! Let us… do some <em>good</em>!’</p>
<p>Brachio pointed towards the crest of the hill and bellowed, ‘Ride!’ With a rousing cheer the front rank spurred their horses and thundered off in a shower of dirt and dry grass. Cosca, Lorsen, Brachio and the rest, as befitted commanders, trotted after.</p>
<p>‘That’s it?’ Brachio heard Sworbreck muttering as the shabby valley, and its patchy fields, and the dusty little settlement came into view below. Maybe he’d been expecting a mile-high fortress with domes of gold and walls of adamant. Maybe it would’ve become one by the time he’d finished writing the scene. ‘It looks…’</p>
<p>‘Doesn’t it?’ snapped Temple.</p>
<p>Brachio’s Styrians were already streaming across the fields towards the town at a greedy gallop while Jubair’s Kantics swarmed at it from the other direction, their horses black dots against a rising storm of dust.</p>
<p>‘Look at them go!’ Cosca swept off his hat and gave it a wave. ‘The brave boys, eh? There’s vim and brio for you! How I wish I could still charge in there with the rest of them!’</p>
<p>‘Really?’ Brachio remembered leading a charge and it had been tough, sore, dangerous work, with vim and brio both conspicuous by their absence.</p>
<p>Cosca thought about it for a moment, then jammed his hat back on his balding head and fumbled his sword back into its sheath. ‘No. Not really.’</p>
<p>They made their way down at a walk.</p>
<p>If there had been any resistance, by the time they reached Squaredeal it was over.</p>
<p>A man sat in the dust by the road, bloody hands pressed to his face, blinking at Sworbreck as he rode past. A sheep pen had been broken open and the sheep all needlessly slaughtered, a dog already busy among the fluffy corpses. A wagon had been tipped on its side, one wheel still creaking hopelessly around in the air while a Kantic and a Styrian mercenary argued savagely in terms neither could understand over the scattered contents. Two other Styrians were trying to kick the door of a forge from its hinges. Another had climbed onto the roof and was digging clumsily at it, using his axe like a shovel. Jubair sat on his huge horse in the centre of the street, pointing with his outsize sword and booming orders, along with some incomprehensible utterances about the will of God.</p>
<p>Sworbreck’s pencil hovered, his fingertips worrying at its string binding, but he could think of nothing to write. In the end he scratched out, absurdly, <em>No heroism apparent.</em></p>
<p>‘What are those idiots up to?’ murmured Temple. Several Kantics had roped a team of mules to one of the struts of the town’s moss-crusted watchtower and were whipping them into a lather in an attempt to pull it down. So far they had failed.</p>
<p>Sworbreck had observed that many of the men found it enjoyable simply to break things. The greater the effort required in putting them back together, the greater the pleasure. As if to illustrate this rule, four of Brachio’s men had knocked someone to the ground and were administering a leisurely beating while a fat man in an apron tried without success to calm them.</p>
<p>Sworbreck had rarely observed violence of even the mildest sort. A dispute over narrative structure between two authors of his acquaintance had turned quite ugly, but that scarcely seemed to qualify now. Finding himself suddenly dropped into the midst of battle, as it were, Sworbreck felt both cold and hot at once. Both terribly fearful and terribly excited. He shied away from the spectacle, yet longed to see more. Was that not what he had come for, after all? To witness blood and ordure and savagery at its most intense? To smell the guts drying and hear the wails of the brutalised? So he could say that he had seen it. So he could bring conviction and authenticity to his work. So he could sit in the fashionable salons of Adua and airily declaim on the dark truths of warfare. Perhaps those were not the highest of motives, but certainly not the lowest on show. He made no claim to be the best man in the Circle of the World, after all.</p>
<p>Merely the best writer.</p>
<p>Cosca swung from his saddle, grunted as he twisted the life into his venerable hips, then, somewhat stiffly, advanced on the would-be peacemaker in the apron. ‘Good afternoon! I am Nicomo Cosca, captain general of the Company of the Gracious Hand.’ He indicated the four Styrians, elbows and sticks rising and falling as they continued their beating. ‘I see you have already met some of my brave companions.’</p>
<p>‘Name’s Clay,’ said the fat man, jowls trembling with fear. ‘I own the store here—’</p>
<p>‘A store? Excellent! May we browse?’ Brachio’s men were already carrying supplies out by the armload under the watchful eye of Sergeant Friendly. No doubt ensuring any thieving from the Company remained within acceptable limits. Thieving outside the Company was, it appeared, entirely to be encouraged. Sworbreck shuffled his pencil around. A further note about the lack of heroism seemed superfluous.</p>
<p>‘Take whatever you need,’ said Clay, showing his flour-dusted palms. ‘There’s no call for violence.’ A pause, broken by the crashing of glass and wood and the whimpering of the man on the ground as he was occasionally and unenthusiastically kicked. ‘Might I ask why you’re here?’</p>
<p>Lorsen stepped forward. ‘We are here to root out disloyalty, Master Clay. We are here to stamp out rebellion.’</p>
<p>‘You’re… from the Inquisition?’</p>
<p>Lorsen said nothing, but his silence spoke volumes.</p>
<p>Clay swallowed. ‘There’s no rebellion here, I assure you.’ Though Sworbreck sensed a falseness in his voice. Something more than understandable nervousness. ‘We’re not interested in politics—’</p>
<p>‘Really?’ Lorsen’s profession evidently required a keen eye for deception also. ‘Roll up your sleeves!’</p>
<p>‘What?’ The merchant attempted to smile, hoping to defuse the situation with soft movements of his fleshy hands, perhaps, but Lorsen would not be defused. He jerked one hard finger and two of his Prac-ticals hastened forward: burly men, masked and hooded.</p>
<p>‘Strip him.’</p>
<p>Clay tried to twist away. ‘Wait—’</p>
<p>Sworbreck flinched as one of them punched the merchant soundlessly in his gut and doubled him up. The other ripped his sleeve off and wrenched his bare arm around. Bold script was tattooed from his wrist to his elbow, written in the Old Tongue. Somewhat faded with age, but still legible.</p>
<p>Lorsen turned his head slightly sideways so he could read. <em>‘Freedom and justice.</em> Noble ideals, with which we could all agree. How do they sit with those innocent citizens of the Union massacred by the rebels at Rostod, do you suppose?’</p>
<p>The merchant was only just reclaiming his breath. ‘I never killed anyone in my life, I swear!’ His face was beaded with sweat. ‘The tattoo was a folly in my youth! Did it to impress a woman! I haven’t spoken to a rebel for twenty years!’</p>
<p>‘And you supposed you could escape your crimes here, beyond the borders of the Union?’ Sworbreck had not seen Lorsen smile before, and he rather hoped he never did again. ‘His Majesty’s Inquisition has a longer reach than you imagine. And a longer memory. Who else in this miserable collection of hovels has sympathies with the rebels?’</p>
<p>‘I daresay if they didn’t when we arrived,’ Sworbreck heard Temple mutter, ‘they’ll all have them by the time we leave…’</p>
<p>‘No one.’ Clay shook his head. ‘No one means any harm, me least of—’</p>
<p>‘Where in the Near Country are the rebels to be found?’</p>
<p><em>Continues...</em><br>Excerpted from Red Country by Joe Abercrombie Copyright © 2012 by Joe Abercrombie. Excerpted by permission.<br>All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.<br>Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.</p></div>


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<h3>Product Description</h3>
<p><strong>The</strong> New York Times <strong>bestselling first book in Joe Abercrombie's The Age of Madness Trilogy where the age of the machine dawns, but the age of magic refuses to die.</strong> </p>
<p>The chimneys of industry rise over Adua and the world seethes with new opportunities. But old scores run deep as ever. </p>
<p>On the blood-soaked borders of Angland, Leo dan Brock struggles to win fame on the battlefield, and defeat the marauding armies of Stour Nightfall. He hopes for help from the crown. But King Jezal's son, the feckless Prince Orso, is a man who specializes in disappointments. </p>
<p>Savine dan Glokta -- socialite, investor, and daughter of the most feared man in the Union -- plans to claw her way to the top of the slag-heap of society by any means necessary. But the slums boil over with a rage that all the money in the world cannot control. </p>
<p>The age of the machine dawns, but the age of magic refuses to die. With the help of the mad hillwoman Isern-i-Phail, Rikke struggles to control the blessing, or the curse, of the Long Eye. Glimpsing the future is one thing, but with the guiding hand of the First of the Magi still pulling the strings, changing it will be quite another . . . </p>
<p>For more from Joe Abercrombie, check out: </p>
<p style="font-weight: bold">The First Law Series </p>
<p style="font-style: italic">The Blade Itself </p>
<p style="font-style: italic">Before They Are Hanged </p>
<p style="font-style: italic">Last Argument of Kings </p>
<p style="font-style: italic">Best Served Cold </p>
<p style="font-style: italic">The Heroes </p>
<p style="font-style: italic">Red Country </p>
<p style="font-weight: bold">The Shattered Sea Trilogy </p>
<p style="font-style: italic">Half a King </p>
<p style="font-style: italic">Half a World </p>
<p style="font-style: italic">Half a War </p>
<h3>Review</h3>
<p>"Abercrombie squeezes your heart till it matches his beat. No one writes with the seismic scope or primal intensity of Joe Abercrombie."―Pierce Brown, #1 New York Times bestselling author </p>
<p>"A master of the genre."―Lev Grossman, #1 New York Times bestselling author </p>
<p>"Abercrombie continues to do what he does best . . . Buckle your seat belts for this one . . . . A vivid and jolting tale."―Robin Hobb, New York Times bestselling author. </p>
<p>"Highly recommended - a funny, finely-wrought, terrifically energetic work of high fantasy. Seek it out."―Joe Hill </p>
<p>"Rife with emotion with wit to spare, both honed to an effortlessly fine edge. <em>A Little Hatred</em> is the joy of watching a master of the craft with his tools at their sharpest."―Sam Sykes, author of Seven Blades in Black </p>
<p>" <em>A Little Hatred</em> is Abercrombie at his very best: witty, wise, and whip-smart. Masterfully plotted . . . . I had high hopes for this book, and it exceed them all."―Nicholas Eames, author of Kings of the Wyld </p>
<p>"Brutal, unforgiving, and terribly fun. Everything awesome readers have come to expect from Joe Abercrombie."―Brian McClellan, author of Sins of Empire </p>
<p>"Goddamn magnificent."―Adrian Tchaikovsky, author of Children of Time </p>
<p>"Joe Abercrombie's powerful voice raises the bar in any literary genre. Fantasy fans are beyond fortunate he chose this one."―Myke Cole, author of The Armored Saint </p>
<p>"Joe Abercrombie writes with terrifying wit, humor and heart."―Ben Aaronovitch, author of the Rivers of London Series </p>
<p>"With expert craft, Abercrombie lays the groundwork for another thrilling trilogy."―Publishers Weekly (starred review) </p>
<p>"Say one thing for Joe Abercrombie, say that he's a master of his craft."―Forbes </p>
<p>"Abercrombie unerringly juggles a large cast of multifaceted, morally ambiguous characters, each embroiled in their own complicated story."―Booklist (starred review) </p>
<p>"A critical, compelling epic fantasy loaded with<br>wonderfully drawn characters, the bloodletting tempered with sharp social commentary and </p>
<p>a touch of satire . . . . It doesn't feel like a stretch to say Abercrombie's on his way to writing </p>
<p>another masterpiece of epic fantasy."―B&amp;N Sci-Fi &amp; Fantasy Blog </p>
<p>" <em>A Little Hatred</em> may be the most<br>accomplished work from a writer who many already consider a master."―SFF World </p>
<p>"Abercrombie examines the effects of social upheaval and the use and abuse of power through the viewpoints of a large cast, from kings, princes, warriors and seers to businessmen and women; the characterization is little short of brilliant. The plot is labyrinthine, with trademark Abercrombie twists and turns and reversals of fortune. He writes of slum life with graphic realism, and his rendering of battle scenes is to die for."―The Guardian </p>
<p>"[Abercrombie] might have his most important series of novels yet."―Locus </p>
<p>"Bloody and relentless."―George R. R. Martin on Best Served Cold </p>
<p>"Bold and authentically original."―Jeff VanderMeer on The Blade Itself </p>
<p>"If you're fond of bloodless, turgid fantasy with characters as thin as newspaper and as boring as plaster saints, Joe Abercrombie is really going to ruin your day. A long career for this guy would be a gift to our genre."―Scott Lynch on The Blade Itself </p>
<p>"Imagine <em>The Lord of the Rings</em> as directed by Kurosawa."―Lev Grossman, Wall Street Journal on The Heroes</p>
<h3>About the Author</h3>
<p><strong>Joe Abercrombie</strong> was born in Lancaster in 1974, spent much of his youth in imaginary worlds, and left school with a good idea of how to make stuff up. After graduating from Manchester University he worked as a TV editor, but he never stopped making stuff up, and his first book, <em>The Blade Itself</em> , was published in 2006. He has since written eight more novels and a collection of stories in his <em>First Law</em> and <em>Shattered Sea</em> series. He lives in Bath with his wife Lou and their three children Grace, Eve and Teddy, and makes stuff up full-time.</p></div>


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<h3>Product Description</h3>
<p><strong>A fragile peace gives way to conspiracy, betrayal, and rebellion in this sequel to the</strong> New York Times <strong>bestselling</strong> A Little Hatred **from epic fantasy master Joe Abercrombie. </p>
<p>"A master of his craft." —<strong>Forbes </strong>"No one writes with the seismic scope or primal intensity of Joe Abercrombie." —Pierce Brown<strong><br></strong><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic">Peace is just another kind of battlefield . . .</span><strong> Savine dan Glokta, once Adua's most powerful investor, finds her judgement, fortune and reputation in tatters. But she still has all her ambitions, and no scruple will be permitted to stand in her way. For heroes like Leo dan Brock and Stour Nightfall, only happy with swords drawn, peace is an ordeal to end as soon as possible. But grievances must be nursed, power seized, and allies gathered first, while Rikke must master the power of the Long Eye . . . before it kills her. Unrest worms into every layer of society. The Breakers still lurk in the shadows, plotting to free the common man from his shackles, while noblemen bicker for their own advantage. Orso struggles to find a safe path through the maze of knives that is politics, only for his enemies, and his debts, to multiply. The old ways are swept aside, and the old leaders with them, but those who would seize the reins of power will find no alliance, no friendship, and no peace lasts forever. For more from Joe Abercrombie, check out: </strong>The Age of Madness<strong> </strong><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic">A Little Hatred</span><strong> </strong><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic">The Trouble With Peace<br>The Wisdom of Crowds</span><strong> </strong>The First Law Trilogy<em> The Blade Itself</em> <em>Before They Are Hanged</em> <em>Last Argument of Kings</em> </p>
<p><em>Best Served Cold</em> <em>The Heroes</em> <em>Red Country</em> <strong>The Shattered Sea Trilogy</strong> <em>Half a King</em> <em>Half a World</em> <em>Half a War</em></p>
<h3>About the Author</h3>
<p><strong>Joe Abercrombie</strong> was born in Lancaster in 1974, spent much of his youth in imaginary worlds, and left school with a good idea of how to make stuff up. After graduating from Manchester University he worked as a TV editor, but he never stopped making stuff up, and his first book, <em>The Blade Itself</em> , was published in 2006. He has since written eight more novels and a collection of stories in his First Law and Shattered Sea series. He lives in Bath with his wife Lou and their three children Grace, Eve and Teddy, and makes stuff up full-time.</p>
<h3>Review</h3>
<p>"A master of the genre."―Lev Grossman, #1 New York Times bestselling author </p>
<p>"Abercrombie's satisfying plotting and expert subversion of genre expectations are sure to please. Readers will be gripped."―Publishers Weekly </p>
<p>"Abercrombie squeezes your heart till it matches his beat. No one writes with the seismic scope or primal intensity of Joe Abercrombie."―Pierce Brown, #1 New York Times bestselling author, on A Little Hatred </p>
<p>"Abercrombie continues to do what he does best . . . Buckle your seat belts for this one . . . . A vivid and jolting tale."―Robin Hobb, New York Times bestselling author, on A Little Hatred </p>
<p>"Highly recommended - a funny, finely-wrought, terrifically energetic work of high fantasy. Seek it out."―Joe Hill on A Little Hatred </p>
<p>"Say one thing for Joe Abercrombie, say that he's a master of his craft."―Forbes on A Little Hatred </p>
<p>" <em>A Little Hatred</em> is Abercrombie at his very best: witty, wise, and whip-smart. Masterfully plotted . . . . I had high hopes for this book, and it exceed them all."―Nicholas Eames, author of Kings of the Wyld, on A Little Hatred </p>
<p>"Brutal, unforgiving, and terribly fun. Everything awesome readers have come to expect from Joe Abercrombie."―Brian McClellan, author of Sins of Empire, on A Little Hatred </p>
<p>"With expert craft, Abercrombie lays the groundwork for another thrilling trilogy."―Publishers Weekly (starred review) on A Little Hatred </p>
<p>" <em>A Little Hatred</em> may be the most accomplished work from a writer who many already consider a master."―SFF World on A Little Hatred</p></div>


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<h3>Product Description</h3>
<p><strong>The</strong> New York Times <strong>bestselling finale to the Age of Madness trilogy</strong> <strong>finds the world in an unstoppable revolution where heroes have nothing left to lose as darkness and destruction overtake everything.</strong></p>
<p>Chaos. Fury. Destruction. </p>
<p>The Great Change is upon us . . . </p>
<p>Some say that to change the world you must first burn it down. Now that belief will be tested in the crucible of revolution: the Breakers and Burners have seized the levers of power, the smoke of riots has replaced the smog of industry, and all must submit to the wisdom of crowds. </p>
<p>With nothing left to lose, Citizen Brock is determined to become a new hero for the new age, while Citizeness Savine must turn her talents from profit to survival before she can claw her way to redemption. Orso will find that when the world is turned upside down, no one is lower than a monarch. And in the bloody North, Rikke and her fragile Protectorate are running out of allies . . . while Black Calder gathers his forces and plots his vengeance. </p>
<p>The banks have fallen, the sun of the Union has been torn down, and in the darkness behind the scenes, the threads of the Weaver's ruthless plan are slowly being drawn together . . . </p>
<p style="font-weight: bold">"No one writes with the seismic scope or primal intensity of Joe Abercrombie." —Pierce Brown </p>
<p>For more from Joe Abercrombie, check out: </p>
<p>The Age of Madness <em><br>A Little Hatred</em> <em><br>The Trouble With Peace</em> <em><br>The Wisdom of Crowds</em> * </p>
<p><em>The First Law Trilogy </em><br>The Blade Itself<em> </em><br>Before They Are Hanged<em> </em><br>Last Argument of Kings </p>
<p>Best Served Cold<em> </em><br>The Heroes<em> </em><br>Red Country* * </p>
<p><em>The Shattered Sea Trilogy </em><br>Half a King<em> </em><br>Half a World<em> </em><br>Half a War*</p>
<h3>Review</h3>
<p>"A master of the genre."―Lev Grossman, #1 New York Times bestselling author </p>
<p>" <em>The Wisdom Of Crowds</em> is the perfect—if slightly depressing—conclusion to an excellent trilogy that pushes this series into bold new territory."―Forbes on The Wisdom of Crowds </p>
<p>"Abercrombie’s fans will be satisfied with this morally complex conclusion in which even the victorious few know that, in the end, '[e]very victory turns out to be just another defeat.'"―Booklist on The Wisdom of Crowds </p>
<p>"With its thoughtful exploration of differing approaches to governance and rich, action-packed plot, this epic fantasy makes a fitting series close."<br>―Publishers Weekly on The Wisdom of Crowds </p>
<p>"Abercrombie's satisfying plotting and expert subversion of genre expectations are sure to please. Readers will be gripped."―Publishers Weekly on The Trouble With Peace </p>
<p>"Abercrombie squeezes your heart till it matches his beat. No one writes with the seismic scope or primal intensity of Joe Abercrombie."―Pierce Brown, #1 New York Times bestselling author, on A Little Hatred </p>
<p>"Abercrombie continues to do what he does best . . . Buckle your seat belts for this one . . . . A vivid and jolting tale."―Robin Hobb, New York Times bestselling author, on A Little Hatred </p>
<p>"Highly recommended - a funny, finely-wrought, terrifically energetic work of high fantasy. Seek it out."―Joe Hill on A Little Hatred </p>
<p>"Say one thing for Joe Abercrombie, say that he's a master of his craft."―Forbes on A Little Hatred </p>
<p>" <em>A Little Hatred</em> is Abercrombie at his very best: witty, wise, and whip-smart. Masterfully plotted . . . . I had high hopes for this book, and it exceed them all."―Nicholas Eames, author of Kings of the Wyld, on A Little Hatred</p>
<h3>About the Author</h3>
<p><strong>Joe Abercrombie</strong> was born in Lancaster in 1974, spent much of his youth in imaginary worlds, and left school with a good idea of how to make stuff up. After graduating from Manchester University he worked as a TV editor, but he never stopped making stuff up, and his first book, <em>The Blade Itself</em> , was published in 2006. He has since written eight more novels and a collection of stories in his First Law and Shattered Sea series. He lives in Bath with his wife Lou and their three children Grace, Eve and Teddy, and makes stuff up full-time.</p></div>


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<div>
<p>The Union army may be full of bastards, but there's only one who thinks he can save the day single-handed when the Gurkish come calling: the incomparable Colonel Sand dan Glokta.<br>Curnden Craw and his dozen are out to recover a mysterious item from beyond the Crinna. Only one small problem: no one seems to know what the item is.</p>
<p>Shevedieh, the self-styled best thief in Styria, lurches from disaster to catastrophe alongside her best friend and greatest enemy, Javre, Lioness of Hoskopp.</p>
<p>And after years of bloodshed, the idealistic chieftain Bethod is desperate to bring peace to the North. There's only one obstacle left - his own lunatic champion, the most feared man in the North: the Bloody-Nine . . .</p>
<p>Sharp Ends combines previously published, award-winning tales with exclusive new short stories. Violence explodes, treachery abounds, and the words are as deadly as the weapons in this rogue's gallery of side-shows, back-stories, and sharp endings from the world of the First Law.</p>
<p>'Joe Abercrombie is doing some terrific work' George R. R. Martin </p>
<p>'Delightfully twisted and evil' <em>Guardian</em></p>
<p>'Joe Abercrombie has written the finest epic fantasy in recent memory.' Junot Diaz, Pulitzer Prize Winner, on <em>Red Country</em></p>
<p>'Joe Abercrombie is probably the brightest star among the new generation of British fantasy writers ...' <em>The Times</em></p></div>


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<p>Dragonfly Falling is the second book in the critically acclaimed epic fantasy series Shadows of the Apt by Adrian Tchaikovsky, author of the Arthur C. Clarke Award-winning Children of Time.</p>

<p>Every hero must be tested . . .The Wasp Empire’s armies are on the move – and the city of Tark will be first to feel their might. Salma and Totho prepare for battle, alongside their Ant-kinden brethren. And within Tark’s walls, they’ll face a force greater than any Lowlander has ever seen. Stenwold Maker predicted this threat, and the Empire's secret service now deems him too dangerous to live. So he’s to be eliminated, and his beloved city of Collegium destroyed. For if this centre of learning is lost, it will crush Lowland resistance.</p>

<p>As the Empire's troops continue their relentless advance, their young Emperor pursues another, even darker goal. And his success would trigger a reign of blood lasting a thousand years.</p>

<p>Dragonfly Falling is followed by the third book in the Shadows of the Apt series, Blood of the Mantis.</p>


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<p>Blood of the Mantis <strong>is the third novel in Adrian Tchaikovsky's richly imagined Shadows of the Apt series, following</strong> Dragonfly Falling. <strong>Stenwold must rally his allies for battle against the</strong> <strong>Empire, even as it seeks a dangerous</strong> <strong>artifact</strong> <strong>of enormous power.</strong><br />
<strong><br />
A dread ritual casts a deadly shadow . . .</strong>  </p>
<p>Achaeos the seer has finally tracked down the stolen Shadow Box. But he has only days before this magical artefact will be lost to him forever. Meanwhile, the Empire's dread forces are mustering for their next great offensive. Stenwold and his followers have only a short time to gather allies, before the enemy's soldiers march again – to conquer everything in their path. If Stenwold cannot hold them back, the hated black and gold flag will fly over every city in the Lowlands before the year's end.  </p>
<p>Yet a more insidious threat awaits. Should the Shadow Box fall into the hands of the power-mad Emperor, nothing will save the world from his relentless ambition.  </p>
<p>Blood of the Mantis <strong>is followed by</strong> Salute the Dark, <strong>the fourth book in the Shadows of the Apt series.</strong></p>


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<p>Seventeen years ago Stenwold witnessed the Wasp Empire storming the city of Myna in a brutal war of conquest. Since then he has preached vainly against this threat in his home city of Collegium, but now the Empire is on the march, with its spies and its armies everywhere, and the Lowlands lie directly in its path. All the while, Stenwold has been training youthful agents to fight the Wasp advance, and the latest recruits include his niece, Che, and his mysterious ward, Tynisa. When his home is violently attacked, he is forced to send them ahead of him and, hotly pursued, they fly by airship to Helleron, the first city in line for the latest Wasp invasion. Stenwold and Che are Beetle-kinden, one of many human races that take their powers and inspiration each from a totem insect, but he also has allies of many breeds: Mantis, Spider, Ant, with their own particular skills. Foremost is the deadly Mantis-kinden warrior, Tisamon, but other very unlikely allies also join the cause.  </p>
<p>As things go from bad to worse amid escalating dangers, Stenwold learns that the Wasps intend to use the newly completed railroad between Helleron and Collegium to launch a lightning strike into the heart of the Lowlands. Then he gathers all of his agents to force a final showdown in the engine yard…</p>


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<p>The vampiric sorcerer Uctebri has at last got his hands on the Shadow Box and can finally begin his dark ritual—a ritual that the Wasp-kinden Emperor believes will grant him immortality—but Uctebri has his own plans for both the Emperor and the Empire. The massed Wasp armies are on the march, and the spymaster Stenwold must see which of his allies will stand now that the war has finally arrived. This time the Empire will not stop until a black and gold flag waves over Stenwold’s own home city of Collegium.   </p>
<p>Tisamon the Weaponsmaster is faced with a terrible choice: a path that could lead him to abandon his friends and his daughter, to face degradation and loss, that might possibly bring him before the Wasp Emperor with a blade in his hand—but is he being driven by Mantis-kinden honor, or manipulated by something more sinister?</p>
<p>**</p><h3>From Publishers Weekly</h3>
<p>Tchaikovsky's fourth Shadows of the Apt installment is that rarest of gems in series fantasy: an intermediate book in which genuinely decisive events occur. Despite the best efforts of resistance leader Stenwald and his allies, the Wasp Empire seems fated to conquer the entire known world, forcibly assimilating the other insect-themed kinden into their brutal society. The empire faces its own doom in the form of vampiric sorcerer Uctebri, whose possession of the Shadow Box allows him to covertly dominate the empire's ruler. Vast armies clash, but in the end the conflicts are determined by individual choices. Tchaikovsky tests all his characters in the full knowledge that many will fail, some heroically and others in despair. Readers who like their military fantasy to come with real consequences will be completely enthralled. <br />
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. </p>
<h3>From Booklist</h3>
<p>This, the fourth book in the series, continues to unravel the mysteries of the insect-kinden, and the magic that was unleashed years ago. Stenwold Maker is still doing his best to stop the advance of the Wasp-kinden’s empire. Now, however, his former operatives are mostly pursuing their own destinies, which may or may not aid Stenwold in his aims. Each character’s individual story line is masterfully woven into the ongoing war, and questions arise as to their motivations. Fantasy readers will continue to enjoy the emotional turmoil and growth as each of the characters pursues their dreams. Even secondary characters are granted some depth, rather than just providing background, and this allows for some interesting plot twists. The ending is not completely unexpected, and a window is left open for a continuation in future stories of this world. The history of the kinden is explored a bit further, but still is shrouded in many unexplained mysteries. --Rebecca Gerber </p>


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<p>The seventh in the Shadows of the Apt series Tynisa is running, but she cannot escape the demons of her own mind. Amid the fragmenting provinces of the Dragonfly Commonweal her past will at last catch up with her. Her father's ghost is hunting her down. At the same time, the Wasp Empress, Seda, is on the move, and her eyes are on the city of Khanaphes, the fallen jewel of the ancient world. While her soldiers seek only conquest, she sees herself as the heir to all the old powers of history, and has her eyes on a far greater prize.</p>


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<p>All is in turmoil as the world moves towards war. In Solarno, the spies watch each other and ready their knives, while Myna sees the troops muster at its border and emotions run high as it vows never to be enslaved again. In Collegium, the students argue politics, too late to turn the tide.</p>

<p>In the heart of the Empire, new pilots have completed their secretive training, generals are being recalled to service and armies are ready to march. Their Empress, the heir to two worlds, intends to claim her birthright. And nothing - either within the Empire or beyond it - will stand in her way.</p>

<p>A conflict is coming, the like of which the insect-kinden have never seen.</p>


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<p>The Scarab Path is the fifth book in the critically acclaimed epic fantasy series Shadows of the Apt by Adrian Tchaikovsky.</p>

<p>Ancient powers are waking . . .The war with the Wasp Empire has ended in a bitter stalemate, and Collegium has nothing to show for it but wounded veterans. Cheerwell Maker finds herself broken in ways no doctor can mend, haunted by ghosts of the past. Meanwhile, the powerful Wasp Empress is regaining control over those imperial cities that refused to bow to her. But she draws her power from something more sinister than armies and war machines. Only her consort, the former spymaster Thalric, knows the truth. As assassins seek to end him, he finds his life and his loyalties under threat once again. And in an ancient city beyond the desert, a terrible secret stirs beneath its stones.</p>

<p>The Scarab Path is followed by the sixth book in the Shadows of the Apt series, The Sea Watch.</p>


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<p><strong>A CITY MAKES ITS LAST STAND</strong></p>
<p>Relentlessly advancing towards Collegium, the Empire is again seeking to break down the city's walls. The mighty imperial armies have learnt from their failures, and Empress Seda will brook no weakness in her soldiers. After all, Stenwold Maker has earned his title, and the War Master has strategies to save his city. His aviators rule the skies - but the Wasp Kinden Empire has developed a terrifying new aerial weapon.</p>
<p>Yet the campaign may be decided far from marching armies and the noise of battle. In an ancient forest, where Mantis clans pursue their own civil war, the Empress Seda is seeking a lost power of the old world. Cheerwell Maker must stop her, at any cost, but will their rivalry awaken something far deadlier? Something that could make even their clash of nations pale into insignificance . . .</p>
<p>**</p><h3>Review</h3>
<p>A kick-ass story ... great stuff Falcata Times The whole Shadows of the Apt series has been one of the most original creations in modern fantasy Upcoming4.me </p>
<h3>About the Author</h3>
<p><strong>Adrian Tchaikovsky</strong> is the author of the Shadows of the Apt series. The first five installments in the series are <em>Empire in Black and Gold</em> , <em>Dragonfly Falling</em> , <em>Blood of the Mantis</em> , <em>Salute the Dark</em> , <em><em> and </em>The Scarab Path</em>. </p>


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<p>The Empire stands victorious over its enemies at last. With her chief rival cast into the abyss, Empress Seda now faces the truth of what she has cost the world in order to win the war. The Seal has been shattered, and the Worm stirs towards the light for the first time in a thousand years. Already it is striking at the surface, voraciously consuming everything its questing tendrils touch. Faced with this threat, Seda knows that only the most extreme of solutions can lock the Worm back in the dark once again. But if she will go to such appalling lengths to save the world from the Worm, then who will save the world from her? The last book in the epic critically acclaimed Shadows of the Apt series.</p>


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<p>The Sea Watch is the sixth book in the critically acclaimed epic fantasy series Shadows of the Apt by Adrian Tchaikovsky.</p>

<p>Danger lurks beneath dark waters . . . A shadow is falling over Collegium. Despite the tenuous peace, Stenwold Maker knows that the Empire will return for his city. Even as he tries to prepare for the resurgence of the black and gold army, a hidden threat is working against his people. Ships that sail from Collegium's harbour are being attacked, sunk by pirates. Some just go missing . . . Lulled by the spread of lies and false promises, Stenwold's allies are falling away. He faces betrayal on every side, and the Empire is just waiting for the first sign of weakness to strike. But they are not the only power that has its eyes on Collegium. And even with all their military strength and technology, they may not be powerful enough to stave off the forces massing in the darkness.</p>

<p>The Sea Watch is followed by the seventh book in the Shadows of the Apt series, Heirs of the Blade.</p>


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<p><strong>NOW A PRIME ORIGINAL SERIES</strong>  </p>
<p><strong> <em>Leviathan Wakes</em> is the first book in the <em>New York Times</em> bestselling and Hugo-award winning Expanse series - over 4 million copies sold worldwide.</strong>  </p>
<p><strong>'Interplanetary adventure the way it ought to be'</strong> George R. R. Martin  </p>
<p>Humanity has colonised the solar system - Mars, the Moon, the Asteroid Belt and beyond - but the stars are still out of our reach.   </p>
<p>Jim Holden is an officer on an ice miner making runs from the rings of Saturn to the mining stations of the Belt. When he and his crew discover a derelict ship called the <em>Scopuli</em> , they suddenly find themselves in possession of a deadly secret. A secret that someone is willing to kill for, and on an unimaginable scale. War is coming to the system, unless Jim can find out who abandoned the ship and why.   </p>
<p>Detective Miller is looking for a girl. One girl in a system of billions, but her parents have money - and money talks. When the trail leads him to the <em>Scopuli</em> and Holden, they both realise this girl may hold the key to everything.   </p>
<p>Holden and Miller must thread the needle between the Earth government, the Outer Planet revolutionaries and secret corporations, and the odds are against them. But out in the Belt, the rules are different, and one small ship can change the fate of the universe.  </p>
<p><strong>The Expanse is the biggest science fiction series of the last decade and is now a major TV series.<br />
</strong><br />
Praise for the Expanse:   </p>
<p><strong>'The science fictional equivalent of A Song of Ice and Fire'</strong> <em>NPR Books</em>  </p>
<p><strong>'As close as you'll get to a Hollywood blockbuster in book form'</strong> <em>io9.com</em> **  </p>
<p>'Great characters, excellent dialogue, memorable fights'<strong> <em>wired.com</em> </strong>  </p>
<p>'High adventure equalling the best space opera has to offer, cutting-edge technology and a group of unforgettable characters . . . Perhaps one of the best tales the genre has yet to produce'<strong> <em>Library Journal</em> </strong>  </p>
<p>'This is the future the way it's supposed to be'<strong> <em>Wall Street Journal</em> </strong>  </p>
<p>'Tense and thrilling'<em><em> </em>SciFiNow</em>  </p>
<p><strong>The Expanse series:<br />
</strong> <em>Leviathan Wakes<br />
Caliban's War<br />
Abaddon's Gate<br />
Cibola Burn<br />
Nemesis Games<br />
Babylon's Ashes<br />
Persepolis Rising</em><br />
<em>Tiamat's Wrath</em><br />
<em>Leviathan Falls (coming 2021)<br />
</em></p>


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<p>NOW A PRIME ORIGINAL TV SERIESCaliban's War is the second book in the New York Times bestselling and Hugo-award winning Expanse series.</p>

<p>For someone who didn't intend to wreck the solar system's fragile balance of power, Jim Holden did a pretty good job of it.</p>

<p>While Earth and Mars have stopped shooting each other, the core alliance is shattered. The outer planets and the Belt are uncertain in their new - possibly temporary - autonomy.</p>

<p>Then, on one of Jupiter's moons, a single super-soldier attacks, slaughtering soldiers of Earth and Mars indiscriminately and reigniting the war. The race is on to discover whether this is the vanguard of an alien army, or if the danger lies closer to home.</p>

<p>The Expanse is the biggest science fiction series of the last decade and is now a major TV series.</p>

<p>Praise for the Expanse:'The science fictional equivalent of A Song of Ice and Fire' NPR Books'As close as you'll get to a Hollywood blockbuster in book form' io9.com'Great characters, excellent dialogue, memorable fights' wired.com'High adventure equalling the best space opera has to offer, cutting-edge technology and a group of unforgettable characters . . . Perhaps one of the best tales the genre has yet to produce' Library Journal'This is the future the way it's supposed to be' Wall Street Journal'Tense and thrilling' SciFiNowThe Expanse series:Leviathan WakesCaliban's WarAbaddon's GateCibola BurnNemesis GamesBabylon's AshesPersepolis RisingTiamat's WrathLeviathan Falls Memory's Legion: The Complete Expanse Story Collection</p>


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<p><strong>The fifth book in the</strong> NYT <strong>bestselling Expanse series,</strong> Nemesis Games <strong>drives the crew of the</strong> Rocinante **apart, and as they struggle to survive, the inner planets fall victim to an enemy's catastrophic plan. Now a Prime Original series.  </p>
<p>HUGO AWARD WINNER FOR BEST SERIES**  </p>
<p>A thousand worlds have opened, and the greatest land rush in human history has begun. As wave after wave of colonists leave, the power structures of the old solar system begin to buckle.  </p>
<p>Ships are disappearing without a trace. Private armies are being secretly formed. The sole remaining protomolecule sample is stolen. Terrorist attacks previously considered impossible bring the inner planets to their knees. The sins of the past are returning to exact a terrible price.  </p>
<p>And as a new human order is struggling to be born in blood and fire, James Holden and the crew of the <em>Rocinante</em> must struggle to survive and get back to the only home they have left.  </p>
<p><em>Nemesis Games</em> is a breakneck science fiction adventure following the bestselling <em>Cibola Burn</em>.  </p>
<p><strong>The Expanse</strong><br />
 *Leviathan Wakes<br />
Caliban's War<br />
Abaddon's Gate<br />
Cibola Burn<br />
Nemesis Games<br />
Babylon's Ashes<br />
Persepolis Rising<br />
Tiamat's Wrath<br />
​Leviathan Falls  </p>
<p>Memory's Legion*  </p>
<p><strong>The Expanse Short Fiction</strong><br />
<em>Drive<br />
The Butcher of Anderson Station</em><br />
<em>Gods of Risk</em><br />
<em>The Churn</em><br />
<em>The Vital Abyss</em><br />
<em>Strange Dogs</em><br />
<em>Auberon<br />
The Sins of Our Fathers</em></p>


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<p>NOW A PRIME ORIGINAL TV SERIESAbaddon's Gate is the third book in the New York Times bestselling and Hugo-award winning Expanse series.</p>

<p>For generations, the solar system - Mars, the Moon, the Asteroid Belt - was humanity's great frontier. Until now. The alien artefact working through its program under the clouds of Venus has emerged to build a massive structure outside the orbit of Uranus: a gate that leads into a starless dark. Jim Holden and the crew of the Rocinante are part of a vast flotilla of scientific and military ships going out to examine the artefact. But behind the scenes, a complex plot is unfolding, with the destruction of Holden at its core. As the emissaries of the human race try to find whether the gate is an opportunity or a threat, the greatest danger is the one they brought with them.</p>

<p>The Expanse is the biggest science fiction series of the last decade and is now a major TV series.</p>

<p>Praise for the Expanse:'The science fictional equivalent of A Song of Ice and Fire' NPR Books'As close as you'll get to a Hollywood blockbuster in book form' io9.com'Great characters, excellent dialogue, memorable fights' wired.com'High adventure equalling the best space opera has to offer, cutting-edge technology and a group of unforgettable characters . . . Perhaps one of the best tales the genre has yet to produce' Library Journal'This is the future the way it's supposed to be' Wall Street Journal'Tense and thrilling' SciFiNowThe Expanse series:Leviathan WakesCaliban's WarAbaddon's GateCibola BurnNemesis GamesBabylon's AshesPersepolis RisingTiamat's WrathLeviathan Falls Memory's Legion: The Complete Expanse Story Collection</p>


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<p>The sixth book in the NYT bestselling Expanse series, Babylon's Ashes has the galaxy in full revolution, and it's up to the crew of the Rocinante to make a desperate mission to the gate network and thin hope of victory. Now a Prime Original series.</p>

<p>HUGO AWARD WINNER FOR BEST SERIES​A revolution brewing for generations has begun in fire. It will end in blood.</p>

<p>The Free Navy -- a violent group of Belters in black-market military ships -- has crippled the Earth and begun a campaign of piracy and violence among the outer planets. The colony ships heading for the thousand new worlds on the far side of the alien ring gates are easy prey, and no single navy remains strong enough to protect them.</p>

<p>James Holden and his crew know the strengths and weaknesses of this new force better than anyone. Outnumbered and outgunned, the embattled remnants of the old political powers call on the Rocinante for a desperate mission to reach Medina Station at the heart of the gate network.</p>

<p>But the new alliances are as flawed as the old, and the struggle for power has only just begun.</p>

<p>Babylon's Ashes is a breakneck science fiction adventure following the bestselling Nemesis Games.</p>

<p>The ExpanseLeviathan WakesCaliban's WarAbaddon's GateCibola BurnNemesis GamesBabylon's AshesPersepolis RisingTiamat's Wrath​Leviathan FallsMemory's LegionThe Expanse Short FictionDriveThe Butcher of Anderson StationGods of RiskThe ChurnThe Vital AbyssStrange DogsAuberonThe Sins of Our Fathers</p>


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<p><strong>The seventh book in the</strong> NYT <strong>bestselling Expanse series,</strong> Persepolis Rising <strong>finds an old enemy returning home with more power and technology than anyone thought possible, and the crew of the aging gunship</strong> Rocinante **tries to rally forces against the new invasion. Now a Prime Original series.  </p>
<p>HUGO AWARD WINNER FOR BEST SERIES**  </p>
<p>An old enemy returns.  </p>
<p>In the thousand-sun network of humanity's expansion, new colony worlds are struggling to find their way. Every new planet lives on a knife edge between collapse and wonder, and the crew of the aging gunship <em>Rocinante</em> have their hands more than full keeping the fragile peace.  </p>
<p>In the vast space between Earth and Jupiter, the inner planets and belt have formed a tentative and uncertain alliance still haunted by a history of wars and prejudices. On the lost colony world of Laconia, a hidden enemy has a new vision for all of humanity and the power to enforce it.  </p>
<p>New technologies clash with old as the history of human conflict returns to its ancient patterns of war and subjugation. But human nature is not the only enemy, and the forces being unleashed have their own price. A price that will change the shape of humanity -- and of the <em>Rocinante</em> -- unexpectedly and forever. . .  </p>
<p><strong>The Expanse</strong><br />
 *Leviathan Wakes<br />
Caliban's War<br />
Abaddon's Gate<br />
Cibola Burn<br />
Nemesis Games<br />
Babylon's Ashes<br />
Persepolis Rising<br />
Tiamat's Wrath<br />
​Leviathan Falls  </p>
<p>Memory's Legion*  </p>
<p><strong>The Expanse Short Fiction</strong><br />
<em>Drive<br />
The Butcher of Anderson Station</em><br />
<em>Gods of Risk</em><br />
<em>The Churn</em><br />
<em>The Vital Abyss</em><br />
<em>Strange Dogs</em><br />
<em>Auberon<br />
The Sins of Our Fathers</em></p>


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<p>NOW A PRIME ORIGINAL TV SERIESTiamat's Wrath is the eighth book in the New York Times bestselling and Hugo-award winning Expanse series.</p>

<p>Thirteen hundred gates have opened to solar systems around the galaxy. But as humanity builds its interstellar empire in the alien ruins, the mysteries and threats grow deeper. In the dead systems where gates lead to stranger things than alien planets, Elvi Okoye begins a desperate search to discover the nature of a genocide that happened before the first human beings existed, and to find weapons to fight a war against forces at the edge of the imaginable. But the price of that knowledge may be higher than she can pay.</p>

<p>At the heart of the empire, Teresa Duarte prepares to take on the burden of her father's godlike ambition. The sociopathic scientist Paolo Cortázar and the Mephistophelian prisoner James Holden are only two of the dangers in a palace thick with intrigue, but Teresa has a mind of her own and secrets even her father the emperor doesn't guess. And throughout the wide human empire, the scattered crew of the Rocinante fights a brave rear-guard action against Duarte's authoritarian regime. Memory of the old order falls away, and a future under Laconia's eternal rule - and with it, a battle that humanity can only lose - seems more and more certain. Because against the terrors that lie between worlds, courage and ambition will not be enough . . . The Expanse is the biggest science fiction series of the last decade and is now a major TV series.</p>

<p>Praise for the Expanse:'The science fictional equivalent of A Song of Ice and Fire' NPR Books'As close as you'll get to a Hollywood blockbuster in book form' io9.com'Great characters, excellent dialogue, memorable fights' wired.com'High adventure equalling the best space opera has to offer, cutting-edge technology and a group of unforgettable characters . . . Perhaps one of the best tales the genre has yet to produce' Library Journal'This is the future the way it's supposed to be' Wall Street Journal'Tense and thrilling' SciFiNowThe Expanse series:Leviathan WakesCaliban's WarAbaddon's GateCibola BurnNemesis GamesBabylon's AshesPersepolis RisingTiamat's WrathLeviathan Falls Memory's Legion: The Complete Expanse Story Collection</p>


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<p>The first installment of Bernard Cornwell’s New York Times bestselling series chronicling the epic saga of the making of England, “like Game of Thrones, but real” (The Observer, London)—the basis for The Last Kingdom, the hit  Netflix series.</p>

<p>This is the exciting—yet little known—story of the making of England in the 9th and 10th centuries, the years in which King Alfred the Great, his son and grandson defeated the Danish Vikings who had invaded and occupied three of England’s four kingdoms.</p>

<p>The story is seen through the eyes of Uhtred, a dispossessed nobleman, who is captured as a child by the Danes and then raised by them so that, by the time the Northmen begin their assault on Wessex (Alfred’s kingdom and the last territory in English hands) Uhtred almost thinks of himself as a Dane. He certainly has no love for Alfred, whom he considers a pious weakling and no match for Viking savagery, yet when Alfred unexpectedly defeats the Danes and the Danes themselves turn on Uhtred, he is finally forced to choose sides. By now he is a young man, in love, trained to fight and ready to take his place in the dreaded shield wall. Above all, though, he wishes to recover his father’s land, the enchanting fort of Bebbanburg by the wild northern sea.</p>

<p>This thrilling adventure—based on existing records of Bernard Cornwell’s ancestors—depicts a time when law and order were ripped violently apart by a pagan assault on Christian England, an assault that came very close to destroying England.</p>


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<p>Uhtred is a Saxon, cheated of his inheritance and adrift in a world of fire, sword, and treachery. He has to make a choice: whether to fight for the Vikings, who raised him, or for King Alfred the Great of Wessex, who dislikes him.  </p>
<p>In the late ninth century, Wessex is the last English kingdom. The rest have fallen to the Danish Vikings, a story told in <em>The Last Kingdom</em> , the <em>New York Times</em> bestselling novel in which Uhtred's tale began. Now the Vikings want to finish England. They assemble the Great Army, whose one ambition is to conquer Wessex. A dispossessed young nobleman, married to a woman who hails from Wessex, Uhtred has little love for either, though for King Alfred he has none at all. Yet fate, as Uhtred learns, has its own imperatives, and when the Vikings attack out of a wintry darkness to shatter the last English kingdom, Uhtred finds himself at Alfred's side.  </p>
<p>Bernard Cornwell's <em>The Pale Horseman</em> , like <em>The Last Kingdom</em> , is rooted in the real history of Anglo-Saxon England. It tells the astonishing and true story of how Alfred, forced to become a fugitive in a few square miles of swampland, fights his enemies against overwhelming odds. The king is a pious Christian, while Uhtred is a pagan. Alfred is a sickly scholar, while Uhtred is an arrogant warrior. Yet the two forge an uneasy alliance that will lead them out of the marshes to the stark hilltop where the last remaining Saxon army will fight for the very existence of England.  </p>
<p>Enthralling as both a historical and personal story, <em>The Pale Horseman</em> is a novel of divided loyalties and desperate heroism, featuring a cast of fully realized characters, from a king in despair to a beguiling British sorceress. And always, beyond the spearmen and the swordsmen are the folk who suffer as the tides of war sweep over their farmlands. From Bernard Cornwell, the <em>New York Times</em> bestselling author whom the <em>Washington Post</em> calls "perhaps the greatest writer of historical adventure novels today," <em>The Pale Horseman</em> is yet another masterpiece of historical and battle fiction that gives life to one of the most important and exciting epochs in the history of the English people and culture.</p>


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<p><strong>The fourth installment of Bernard Cornwell’s <em>New York Times</em> bestselling series chronicling the epic saga of the making of England, “like Game of Thrones, but real” ( <em>The Observer</em> , London)—the basis for <em>The Last Kingdom</em> , the hit television series.</strong>  </p>
<p>The year is 885, and England is at peace, divided between the Danish kingdom to the north and the Saxon kingdom of Wessex in the south. Warrior by instinct and Viking by nature, Uhtred, the dispossessed son of a Northumbrian lord, has land, a wife and children—and a duty to King Alfred to hold the frontier on the Thames. But a dead man has risen, and new Vikings have invaded the decayed Roman city of London with dreams of conquering Wessex... with Uhtred’s help. Suddenly forced to weigh his oath to the king against the dangerous turning tide of shifting allegiances and deadly power struggles, Uhtred—Alfred’s sharpest sword—must now make the choice that will determine England’s future.</p>


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<p>The sixth installment of Bernard Cornwell’s New York Times bestselling series chronicling the epic saga of the making of England, “like Game of Thrones, but real” (The Observer, London)—the basis for The Last Kingdom, the hit television series.</p>

<p>As the ninth century wanes, Alfred the Great lies dying, his lifelong goal of a unified England in peril, his kingdom on the brink of chaos. Though his son, Edward, has been named his successor, there are other Saxon claimants to the throne—as well as ambitious pagan Vikings to the north.</p>

<p>Torn between his vows to Alfred and the desire to reclaim his long-lost ancestral lands in the north, Uhtred, Saxon-born and Viking-raised, remains the king’s warrior but has sworn no oath to the crown prince. Now he must make a momentous decision that will forever transform his life and the course of history: to take up arms—and Alfred’s mantle—or lay down his sword and let his liege’s dream of a unified kingdom die along with him.</p>


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<p>Bernard Cornwell-who "is at his enthralling best conveying . . . one of the defining periods of English history" (Wall Street Journal)-returns to his epic Saxon Tales saga with this dramatic story of divided loyalties, bloody battles, and the struggle to unite Britain   </p>
<p>At the onset of the tenth century, England is in turmoil. Alfred the Great is dead and Edward his son reigns as king. Wessex survives but peace cannot hold: the Danes in the north, led by Viking Cnut Longsword, stand ready to invade and will never rest until the emerald crown is theirs.  </p>
<p>Uhtred, once Alfred's great warrior but now out of favor with the new king, must lead a band of outcasts north to recapture his old family home, that great Northumbrian fortress, Bebbanburg.  </p>
<p>Loyalties will be divided and men will fall, as every Saxon kingdom is drawn into the bloodiest battle yet with the Danes; a war which will decide the fate of every king, and the entire English nation.  </p>
<p>With The Pagan Lord, New York Times bestselling author Bernard Cornwell-"the reigning king of historical fiction" (USA Today)-continues his magnificent epic of the making of England during the Middle Ages, vividly bringing to life the uneasy alliances, bloody battles, and deadly intrigue that gave birth to the British nation.</p>


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<p>The new novel in Bernard Cornwell’s number one bestselling series The Saxon Tales, on the making of England and the fate of his great hero, Uhtred of Bebbanburg.  </p>
<p>A fragile peace governs the kingdoms of Wessex, East Anglia, under the rule of the late King Alfred’s son, King Edward, and Mercia, under his daughter Aethelflaed.  </p>
<p>Uhtred, her formidable champion and greatest warrior, controls the northern parts from the strongly fortified city of Chester. But no one can prepare them for the storm that is about to descend…  </p>
<p>The Northmen, allied to the Irish, come in force under the cover of night, up the Mersey, perhaps to attack Chester, perhaps to rage and pillage through Mercia, perhaps to take the troubled kingdom of Northumbria. They are led by the terrifying Viking warrior, Ragnall Iverson, a fierce fighter and ruthless leader.  </p>
<p>He and his army are formidable enough but worse still, his brother is married to Uhtred’s daughter. With his passionate determination, Uhtred will stop at nothing to take back his corner of Northumbria and secure the future of Bebbanburg. But for Aethelflaed and the Mercians, doubt must arise to where his loyalty lies.  </p>
<p>In the struggle between family and loyalty, between oaths given and political demands, there is no easy solution. And the clash between the Vikings and the Saxons will resound across the land.</p>


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<p>The tenth installment of Bernard Cornwell’s New York Times bestselling series chronicling the epic saga of the making of England, “like Game of Thrones, but real” (The Observer, London)—the basis for The Last Kingdom, the hit television series.</p>

<p>Britain is in a state of uneasy peace. Northumbria’s Viking ruler, Sigtryggr, and Mercia’s Saxon Queen Aethelflaed have agreed a truce. And so England’s greatest warrior, Uhtred of Bebbanburg, at last has the chance to take back the home his traitorous uncle stole from him so many years ago—and which his scheming cousin still occupies.</p>

<p>But fate is inexorable, and the enemies Uhtred has made and the oaths he has sworn conspire to distract him from his dream of recapturing his home. New enemies enter into the fight for England’s kingdoms: the redoubtable Constantin of Scotland seizes an opportunity for conquest and leads his armies south. Britain’s precarious peace threatens to turn into a war of annihilation. Yet Uhtred is determined that nothing—neither the new adversaries nor the old foes who combine against him—will keep him from his birthright.  “Historical novels stand or fall on detail, and Mr. Cornwell writes as if he has been to ninth-century Wessex and back.”—Wall Street Journal</p>


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<p>**IN THE FINAL RECKONING, CHOOSE YOUR SIDE CAREFULLY…  </p>
<p>The epic conclusion to the globally bestselling historical series.**  </p>
<p>After years fighting to reclaim his rightful home, Uhtred of Bebbanburg has returned to Northumbria. With his loyal band of warriors and a new woman by his side, his household is secure – yet Uhtred is far from safe. Beyond the walls of his impregnable fortress, a battle for power rages.  </p>
<p>To the south, King Æthelstan has unified the three kingdoms of Wessex, Mercia and East Anglia – and now eyes a bigger prize. To the north, King Constantine and other Scottish and Irish leaders seek to extend their borders and expand their dominion.  </p>
<p>Caught in the eye of the storm is Uhtred. Threatened and bribed by all sides, he faces an impossible choice: stay out of the struggle, risking his freedom, or throw himself into the cauldron of war and the most terrible battle Britain has ever experienced. Only fate can decide the outcome.  </p>
<p><strong>The epic story of how England was made concludes in WAR LORD, the magnificent finale to the Last Kingdom series.</strong></p>


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<p>The third instalment in Bernard Cornwell's King Alfred series, following on from the outstanding previous novels The Last Kingdom and The Pale Horseman, both of which were top ten bestsellers. The year is 878 and Wessex is free from the Vikings. Uhtred, the dispossessed son of a Northumbrian lord, helped Alfred win that victory, but now he is disgusted by Alfred's lack of generosity and repelled by the king's insistent piety. He flees Wessex, going back north to seek revenge for the killing of his foster father and to rescue his stepsister, captured in the same raid. He needs to find his old enemy, Kjartan, a renegade Danish lord who lurks in the formidable stronghold of Dunholm. Uhtred arrives in the north to discover rebellion, chaos and fear. His only ally is Hild, a West Saxon nun fleeing her calling, and his best hope is his sword, with which he has made a formidable reputation as a warrior. He will need the assistance of other warriors if he is to attack Dunholm and he finds Guthred, a slave who believes he is a king. He takes him across the Pennines to where a desperate alliance of fanatical Christians and beleaguered Danes form a new army to confront the terrible Viking lords who rule Northumbria. 'The Lords of the North' is a powerful story of betrayal, romance and struggle, set in an England of turmoil, upheaval and glory. Uhtred, a Northumbrian raised as a Viking, a man without lands, a warrior without a country, has become a splendid heroic figure.</p></div>


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<p>Bernard Cornwell’s epic story of the making of England continues in this eleventh installment in the bestselling Saxon Tales series—"like <em>Game of Thrones</em> , but real" ( <em>The Observer</em> )—the basis of the hit Netflix television series <em>The Last Kingdom.</em> </p>
<p style="font-style: italic">His blood is Saxon<br>His heart is Viking<br>His battleground is England </p>
<p>"Perhaps the greatest writer of historical adventure novels today" ( <em>Washington Post</em> ), Bernard Cornwell has dazzled and entertained readers and critics with his page-turning bestsellers. Of all his protagonists, however, none is as beloved as Uhtred of Bebbanburg. </p>
<p>And while Uhtred might have regained his family’s fortress, it seems that a peaceful life is not to be – as he is under threat from both an old enemy and a new foe. The old enemy comes from Wessex where a dynastic struggle will determine who will be the next king. And the new foe is Sköll, a Norseman, whose ambition is to be King of Northumbria and who leads a frightening army of wolf-warriors, men who fight half-crazed in the belief that they are indeed wolves. Uhtred, believing he is cursed, must fend off one enemy while he tries to destroy the other. In this new chapter of the Saxon Tales series—a rousing adventure of courage, treachery, duty, devotion, majesty, love and battle, as seen through the eyes of a warrior straddling two worlds—Uhtred returns to fight once again for the destiny of England.</p></div>


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<p style="font-family: 'Proxima Nova','Montserrat','Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 16px"><span style="color: #d8d5cf; background-color: #181a1b">An oath of loyalty. Two warring kings. A destiny he didn’t choose… England is in turmoil as Vikings and Saxons battle for territory. Rumours build about the fatal sickness of the King, and the country awaits an heir. A violent clash at sea forces the warrior lord Uhtred to lead his men from his Northumbrian fortress to London and plunge into the eye of the storm. For two kings claim the empty throne, and a new kingdom cannot be born without bloodshed. Uhtred’s sword will leave one king dead and the other victorious. But sometimes it is hard to know the will of the gods…</span></p></div>


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<p>This eighth entry in New York Times bestselling author Bernard Cornwell's epic Saxon Tales series brings to life the harrowing and turbulent tale of a nation torn apart by sectarian and religious strife, a political struggle dominated by dynastic rivalries, and the remarkable strength that elevates some characters above their time. </p>
<p>“My name is Uhtred. I am the son of Uhtred, who was the son of Uhtred . . .” </p>
<p>Britain, early tenth century AD: a time of change. There are new raids by the Vikings from Ireland, and turmoil among the Saxons over the leadership of Mercia. A younger generation is taking over. </p>
<p>Æthelred, the ruler of Mercia, is dying, leaving no legitimate heir. The West Saxons want their king, but Uhtred has long supported Athelflaed, sister to King Edward of Wessex and widow of Aethelred. Widely loved and respected, Athelflaed has all the makings of a leader—but could Saxon warriors ever accept a woman as their ruler? The stage is set for rivals to fight for the empty throne. </p>
<p>Uhtred is still suffering from the wounds he received in battle. To recover his strength he needs to find the sword that caused the injury, but lost amid the battle’s blood and mud, how could it be traced and who among the Vikings or Saxons might be holding it? </p>
<p>In the end it is one champion, one hero, who will destroy the new Viking threat to Mercia and ultimately decide the fate of England.</p></div>


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<p>HISTORICAL FICTION. The first five books in Bernard Cornwell's No.1 bestselling THE LAST KINGDOM series, a captivating historical fiction series that transports readers to a time when epic heroes rose amidst the tumult and war of the 9th Century. BBC2's major TV show THE LAST KINGDOM is based on the first two books in the series. Bernard Cornwell's captivating historical fiction series, THE LAST KINGDOM, tells the tale of Alfred the Great, his descendants and the enemies they faced at the dawn of England. Against their lives Bernard Cornwell has woven a story of divided loyalties, reluctant love and desperate heroism. In Uhtred, he has created one of his most captivating and heroic characters. The series follows Uhtred from his childhood - an English boy, growing up among Danes with increasingly conflicting loyalties - to his adulthood as he becomes one of the greatest warriors of England, fighting epic battles and navigating the ever-shifting landscape of England.</p></div>


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<p style="font-weight: bold">L.E. Modesitt, Jr.'s <em>The Magic of Recluce</em> begins his bestselling fantasy series the Saga of Recluce, which is one of the most popular in contemporary epic fantasy. </p>
<p>Young Lerris yearns to find a place in the world better suited to his skills and temperament. In Recluce this means taking one of two options: permanent exile from Recluce or the dangergeld, a complex, rule-laden wanderjahr in the lands beyond. Many do not survive. </p>
<p>Lerris chooses dangergeld. </p>
<p>Lerris will need magic in the lands beyond, where the power of the Chaos Wizards reigns unchecked, and he must learn to use his powers in an orderly way before his wanderjahr, or fall prey to Chaos. </p>
<p>Saga of Recluce </p>
<h1>1 <em>The Magic of Recluce /</em> #2 <em>The Towers of Sunset /</em> #3 <em>The Magic Engineer /</em> #4 <em>The Order War</em> <em>/</em> #5 <em>The Death of Chaos /</em> #6 <em>Fall of Angels /</em> #7 <em>The Chaos Balance /</em> #8 <em>The White Order /</em> #9 <em>Colors of Chaos /</em> #10 <em>Magi’i of Cyador /</em> #11 <em>Scion of Cyador /</em> #12 <em>Wellspring of Chaos /</em> #13 <em>Ordermaster /</em> #14 <em>Natural Order Mage /</em> #15 <em>Mage-Guard of Hamor /</em> #16 <em>Arms-Commander /</em> #17 <em>Cyador’s Heirs /</em> #18 <em>Heritage of Cyador /</em> #19 <em>The Mongrel Mage / #20 Outcasts of Order / #21 The Mage-Fire War (forthcoming)</em></h1>
<p>Story Collection: <em>Recluce Tales</em> </p>
<p>Other Series by L.E. Modesitt, Jr.<br>The Imager Portfolio<br>The Corean Chronicles<br>The Spellsong Cycle<br>The Ghost Books<br>The Ecolitan Matter</p>
<p>**</p></div>


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<p>Many years have passed since three Teblor warriors brought carnage and chaos to the small lakeside settlement of Silver Lake. While the town has recovered, the legacy of that past horror remains, even if the Teblor tribes of the north no longer venture into the southlands. One of those three, Karsa Orlong, is now deemed to be a god, albeit an indifferent one. In truth, many new cults and religions have emerged across the Malazan world, including those who worship Coltaine, the Black-Winged God, and - popular among the Empire's soldiery - followers of the cult of Iskar Jarak, Guardian of the Dead. </p>
<p>A legion of Malazan marines is on the march towards Silver Lake. responding to intelligence that indicates the tribes beyond the border are stirring. The marines aren't quite sure what they're going to be facing but, while the Malazan military has evolved and these are not the marines of old, one thing hasn't changed: they'll handle whatever comes at them. Or die trying </p>
<p>Meanwhile, in the high mountains, where dwell the tribes of the Teblor, a new warleader has risen. Scarred by the deeds of Karsa Orlong, he intends to confront his god, even if he has to cut a bloody path through the Malazan Empire to do it. Higher in the mountains, a new threat has emerged, and now the Teblor are running out of time.<br>The long feared invasion is about to begin. And this time it won't be three simple warriors. This time thousands are poised to flood the lands of the south. And in their way, a single legion of Malazan marines . . . </p>
<p>It seems the past is about to revisit Silver Lake, and that is never a good thing . . .</p></div>


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<p style="font-weight: bold">From <em>Leviathan Wakes</em> to <em>Leviathan Falls</em> , the nine novels in James S. A. Corey's Hugo Award-winning Expanse series have redefined modern space opera. Now, available in print for the first time and including a brand-new novella set after the events of <em>Leviathan Falls</em> and author's notes on each story, comes the complete collection of stories and novellas set in the Expanse universe. </p>
<p>On Mars, a scientist experiments with a new engine that will one day become the drive that fuels humanity's journey into the stars. </p>
<p>On an asteroid station, a group of prisoners are oblivious to the catastrophe that awaits them. </p>
<p>On a future Earth beset by overpopulation, pollution, and poverty, a crime boss desperately seeks to find a way off planet. </p>
<p>On an alien world, a human family struggles to establish a colony and make a new home. </p>
<p>All these stories and more are featured in this unmissable collection set in the hardscrabble world of The Expanse. </p>
<p><strong>Contents:</strong><br><strong>The Expanse Short Fiction</strong><br><em>Drive<br>The Butcher of Anderson Station<br>The Churn<br>Gods of Risk<br>The Vital Abyss<br>Strange Dogs<br>Auberon<br>The Sins of our Fathers</em><br>---<br>For more from James S. A. Corey, check out: </p>
<p><strong>The Expanse</strong><br><em>Leviathan Wakes<br>Caliban's War<br>Abaddon's Gate<br>Cibola Burn<br>Nemesis Games<br>Babylon's Ashes<br>Persepolis Rising<br>Tiamat's Wrath<br>Leviathan Falls</em></p></div>


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<p>The fourth book in the NYT bestselling Expanse series, Cibola Burn sees the crew of the Rocinante on a new frontier, as the rush to colonize the new planets threatens to outrun law and order and give way to war and chaos. Now a Prime Original series. </p>
<p>Enter a new frontier. </p>
<p>"An empty apartment, a missing family, that's creepy. But this is like finding a military base with no one on it. Fighters and tanks idling on the runway with no drivers. This is bad juju. Something wrong happened here. What you should do is tell everyone to leave. </p>
<p>"The gates have opened the way to a thousand new worlds and the rush to colonize has begun. Settlers looking for a new life stream out from humanity's home planets. Ilus, the first human colony on this vast new frontier, is being born in blood and fire. Independent settlers stand against the overwhelming power of a corporate colony ship with only their determination, courage, and the skills learned in the long wars of home. Innocent scientists are slaughtered as they try to survey a new and alien world. The struggle on Ilus threatens to spread all the way back to Earth. James Holden and the crew of his one small ship are sent to make peace in the midst of war and sense in the midst of chaos. But the more he looks at it, the more Holden thinks the mission was meant to fail. And the whispers of a dead man remind him that the great galactic civilization that once stood on this land is gone. And that something killed it. The ExpanseLeviathan WakesCaliban's WarAbaddon's GateCibola BurnNemesis GamesBabylon's AshesPersepolis RisingThe Expanse Short Fiction The Butcher of Anderson StationGods of RiskThe ChurnThe Vital AbyssStrange Dogs</p></div>


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<p>The biggest science fiction series of the decade comes to an incredible conclusion in the ninth and final novel in James S.A. Corey’s Hugo-award winning space opera that inspired the Prime Original series. “An all-time genre classic.” –Publishers Weekly (starred review)Hugo Award Winner for Best SeriesThe Laconian Empire has fallen, setting the thirteen hundred solar systems free from the rule of Winston Duarte. But the ancient enemy that killed the gate builders is awake, and the war against our universe has begun again. In the dead system of Adro, Elvi Okoye leads a desperate scientific mission to understand what the gate builders were and what destroyed them, even if it means compromising herself and the half-alien children who bear the weight of her investigation. Through the wide-flung systems of humanity, Colonel Aliana Tanaka hunts for Duarte’s missing daughter. . . and the shattered emperor himself. And on the Rocinante, James Holden and his crew struggle to build a future for humanity out of the shards and ruins of all that has come before. As nearly unimaginable forces prepare to annihilate all human life, Holden and a group of unlikely allies discover a last, desperate chance to unite all of humanity, with the promise of a vast galactic civilization free from wars, factions, lies, and secrets if they win. But the price of victory may be worse than the cost of defeat. </p>
<p>"Interplanetary adventure the way it ought to be written. </p>
<p>" —George R. R. MartinThe ExpanseLeviathan WakesCaliban's WarAbaddon's GateCibola BurnNemesis GamesBabylon's AshesPersepolis RisingTiamat's Wrath​Leviathan FallsMemory's LegionThe Expanse Short FictionDriveThe Butcher of Anderson StationGods of RiskThe ChurnThe Vital AbyssStrange DogsAuberonThe Sins of Our Fathers</p></div>


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<p>A total departure from previous writing about television, this book is the first ever to advocate that the medium is not reformable. Its problems are inherent in the technology itself and are so dangerous -- to personal health and sanity, to the environment, and to democratic processes -- that TV ought to be eliminated forever.</p><p>Weaving personal experiences through meticulous research, the author ranges widely over aspects of television that have rarely been examined and never before joined together, allowing an entirely new, frightening image to emerge. The idea that all technologies are "neutral," benign instruments that can be used well or badly, is thrown open to profound doubt. Speaking of TV reform is, in the words of the author, "as absurd as speaking of the reform of a technology such as guns."


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<p>What happens when media and politics become forms of entertainment? As our world begins to look more and more like Orwell's 1984, Neil's Postman's essential guide to the modern media is more relevant than ever. </p>
<p>"It's unlikely that Trump has ever read Amusing Ourselves to Death, but his ascent would not have surprised Postman.” -CNNOriginally published in 1985, Neil Postman’s groundbreaking polemic about the corrosive effects of television on our politics and public discourse has been hailed as a twenty-first-century book published in the twentieth century. Now, with television joined by more sophisticated electronic media—from the Internet to cell phones to DVDs—it has taken on even greater significance. Amusing Ourselves to Death is a prophetic look at what happens when politics, journalism, education, and even religion become subject to the demands of  entertainment. It is also a blueprint for regaining control of our media, so that they can serve our highest goals. </p>
<p>“A brilliant, powerful, and important book. This is an indictment that Postman has laid down and, so far as I can see, an irrefutable one.” –Jonathan Yardley, The Washington Post Book World</p></div>


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<p style="font-weight: bold">Now with over 10 million copies sold, The Mistborn Series has the thrills of a heist story, the twistiness of political intrigue, and the epic scale of a landmark fantasy saga. </p>
<p>For a thousand years the ash fell and no flowers bloomed. For a thousand years the Skaa slaved in misery and lived in fear. For a thousand years the Lord Ruler, the "Sliver of Infinity," reigned with absolute power and ultimate terror, divinely invincible. Then, when hope was so long lost that not even its memory remained, a terribly scarred, heart-broken half-Skaa rediscovered it in the depths of the Lord Ruler's most hellish prison. Kelsier "snapped" and found in himself the powers of a Mistborn. A brilliant thief and natural leader, he turned his talents to the ultimate caper, with the Lord Ruler himself as the mark. </p>
<p>Kelsier recruited the underworld's elite, the smartest and most trustworthy allomancers, each of whom shares one of his many powers, and all of whom relish a high-stakes challenge. Only then does he reveal his ultimate dream, not just the greatest heist in history, but the downfall of the divine despot. </p>
<p>But even with the best criminal crew ever assembled, Kel's plan looks more like the ultimate long shot, until luck brings a ragged girl named Vin into his life. Like him, she's a half-Skaa orphan, but she's lived a much harsher life. Vin has learned to expect betrayal from everyone she meets, and gotten it. She will have to learn to trust, if Kel is to help her master powers of which she never dreamed. </p>
<p>This saga dares to ask a simple question: What if the hero of prophecy fails? </p>
<p style="font-weight: bold">Other Tor books by Brandon Sanderson </p>
<p style="font-weight: bold">The Cosmere </p>
<p><strong>The Stormlight Archive</strong><br><em>The Way of Kings</em><br><em>Words of Radiance</em><br><em>Edgedancer</em> (Novella)<br><em>Oathbringer</em> </p>
<p><strong>The Mistborn trilogy</strong><br>*Mistborn: The Final Empire<br>The Well of Ascension<br>The Hero of Ages </p>
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<li><strong>Mistborn: The Wax and Wayne series</strong><br><em>Alloy of Law<br>Shadows of Self<br>Bands of Mourning</em> </li></ul>
<p><strong>Collection</strong><br><em>Arcanum Unbounded</em> </p>
<p><strong>Other Cosmere novels</strong><br><em>Elantris</em><br><em>Warbreaker</em> </p>
<p><strong>The Alcatraz vs. the Evil Librarians series</strong><br><em>Alcatraz vs. the Evil Librarians</em><br><em>The Scrivener's Bones</em><br><em>The Knights of Crystallia</em><br><em>The Shattered Lens</em><br><em>The Dark Talent</em> </p>
<p><strong>The Rithmatist series<br></strong><em>The Rithmatist</em> </p>
<p style="font-weight: bold">Other books by Brandon Sanderson </p>
<p><strong>The Reckoners</strong><br><em>Steelheart</em><br><em>Firefight</em><br><em>Calamity</em> </p>
<p>At the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.</p>
<h3>Review</h3>
<p><em>"Elantris</em> is the finest novel of fantasy to be written in many years. Brandon Sanderson has created a truly original world of magic and intrigue, and with the rigor of the best science fiction writers he has made it real at every level."--Orson Scott Card </p>
<p>" <em>Elantris</em> . . . is marked by vivid and strongly drawn characters (including a memorable female character) and ingenious plot twists that will keep the reader turning pages. Don't miss it!"--Katherine Kurtz, <em>New York Times</em> -bestselling author of the Deryni series </p>
<p>"Sanderson's outstanding fantasy debut . . offers something for everyone: mystery, magic, romance, political wrangling, religious conflict, fights for equality, sharp writing and wonderful, robust characters. . . . The intrigue and excitement grow steadily in this smoothly written, perfectly balanced narrative; by the end readers won't want to put it down. . . . Sanderson is a writer to watch." - <em>Publishers Weekly</em> , Starred Review on <em>Elantris</em> </p>
<p>"In this stunning debut novel [is] a completely unique world that enfolds the reader in mystery and wonder right through till the last page."- <em>Romantic Times Bookclub</em> on <em>Elantris</em> </p>
<h3>From Publishers Weekly</h3>
<p>Sanderson's eerie second fantasy (after 2005's <em>Elantris</em> ), set in a mist-haunted, ash-ridden world, pits Kelsier, "the Survivor of Hathsin," against the immortal Lord Ruler's 1,000-year domination of both the Great Houses and their serflike "skaa." Through Allomancy acquired in the Ruler's most hellish prison, Kelsier can "burn" 10 metals internally, fueling superhuman powers he uses to assemble rebels in a loose plan to destroy the nobility, the empire and the Lord Ruler himself. Kelsier uses Vin, a street urchin with the same Mistborn powers Kelsier possesses, to infiltrate the Great Houses' society, where she falls in love with philosopher prince Elend Venture. This mystico-metallurgical fantasy combines Vin's coming-of-age-in-magic and its well-worn theme of revolt against oppression with copious mutilations, a large-scale cast of thieves, cutthroats, conniving nobles and exotic mutants. The fast-paced action scenes temper Vin's interminable ballroom intrigues, while the characters, though not profoundly drawn, have a raw stereotypic appeal. <em>(July)</em> <br>Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.</p>
<h3>From Booklist</h3>
<p>The Sliver of Infinity, the Lord Ruler, is the locus of religious and temporal order in a world in which the skaa are slaves or worse. Half-skaa erstwhile thief Kelsior is the only person to survive and escape the Lord Ruler's most brutal prison, in which, however, he discovered he has the powers of the Mistborn, which are based on the internal "burning" of certain metals, all of which the Mistborn can use, while most others can burn only one. Now Kelsior plans his most daring raid ever, into the center of the palace to discover the secret of the Lord Ruler's power. Beforehand, his band finds the half-skaa orphan Vin in another thieving crew, where she's useful because she brings good luck. She is also Mistborn and, if she can master and learn to trust her powers, will enable Kelsior's crew to infiltrate the nobility and possibly overthrow the status quo. Intrigue, politics, and conspiracies mesh complexly in a world Sanderson realizes in satisfying depth and peoples with impressive characters. <em>Regina Schroeder</em><br><em>Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved</em> --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.</p>
<h3>Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.</h3>
<p>**Chapter One<br>Ash fell from the sky. </p>
<p>Vin watched the downy flakes drift through the air. Leisurely. Careless. Free. The puffs of soot fell like black snowflakes, descending upon the dark city of Luthadel. They drifted in corners, blowing in the breeze and curling in tiny whirlwinds over the cobblestones. They seemed so uncaring. What would that be like? </p>
<p>Vin sat quietly in one of the crew’s watch-holes—a hidden alcove built into the bricks on the side of the safe house. From within it, a crewmember could watch the street for signs of danger. Vin wasn’t on duty; the watch-hole was simply one of the few places where she could find solitude. </p>
<p>And Vin liked solitude. When you’re alone, no one can betray you. Reen’s words. Her brother had taught her so many things, then had reinforced them by doing what he’d always promised he would—by betraying her himself. It’s the only way you’ll learn. Anyone will betray you, Vin. Anyone. </p>
<p>The ash continued to fall. Sometimes, Vin imagined she was like the ash, or the wind, or the mist itself. A thing without thought, capable of simply being, not thinking, caring, or hurting. Then she could be... free. </p>
<p>She heard shuffling a short distance away, then the trapdoor at the back of the small chamber snapped open. </p>
<p>“Vin!” Ulef said, sticking his head into the room. “There you are! Camon’s been searching for you for a half hour.” </p>
<p>That’s kind of why I hid in the first place. </p>
<p>“You should get going,” Ulef said. “The job’s almost ready to begin.” </p>
<p>Ulef was a gangly boy. Nice, after his own fashion—naive, if one who had grown up in the underworld could ever really be called “naive.” Of course, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t betray her. Betrayal had nothing to do with friendship; it was a simple fact of survival. Life was harsh on the streets, and if a skaa thief wanted to keep from being caught and executed, he had to be practical. </p>
<p>And ruthlessness was the very most practical of emotions. Another of Reen’s sayings. </p>
<p>“Well?” Ulef asked. “You should go. Camon’s mad.” </p>
<p>When is he not? However, Vin nodded, scrambling out of the cramped—yet comforting—confines of the watch-hole. She brushed past Ulef and hopped out of the trapdoor, moving into a hallway, then a run-down pantry. The room was one of many at the back of the store that served as a front for the safe house. The crew’s lair itself was hidden in a tunneled stone cavern beneath the building. </p>
<p>She left the building through a back door, Ulef trailing behind her. The job would happen a few blocks away, in a richer section of town. It was an intricate job—one of the most complex Vin had ever seen. Assuming Camon wasn’t caught, the payoff would be great indeed. If he was caught... Well, scamming noblemen and obligators was a very dangerous profession—but it certainly beat working in the forges or the textile mills. </p>
<p>Vin exited the alleyway, moving out onto a dark, tenement-lined street in one of the city’s many skaa slums. Skaa too sick to work lay huddled in corners and gutters, ash drifting around them. Vin kept her head down and pulled up her cloak’s hood against the still falling flakes. </p>
<p>Free. No, I’ll never be free. Reen made certain of that when he left. </p>
<p>“There you are!” Camon lifted a squat, fat finger and jabbed it toward her face. “Where were you?” </p>
<p>Vin didn’t let hatred or rebellion show in her eyes. She simply looked down, giving Camon what he expected to see. There were other ways to be strong. That lesson she had learned on her own. </p>
<p>Camon growled slightly, then raised his hand and backhanded her across the face. The force of the blow threw Vin back against the wall, and her cheek blazed with pain. She slumped against the wood, but bore the punishment silently. Just another bruise. She was strong enough to deal with it. She’d done so before. </p>
<p>“Listen,” Camon hissed. “This is an important job. It’s worth thousands of boxings—worth more than you a hundred times over. I won’t have you fouling it up. Understand?” </p>
<p>Vin nodded. </p>
<p>Camon studied her for a moment, his pudgy face red with anger. Finally, he looked away, muttering to himself. </p>
<p>He was annoyed about something—something more than just Vin. Perhaps he had heard about the skaa rebellion several days to the north. One of the provincial lords, Themos Tresting, had apparently been murdered, his manor burned to the ground. Such disturbances were bad for business; they made the aristocracy more alert, and less gullible. That, in turn, could cut seriously into Camon’s profits. </p>
<p>He’s looking for someone to punish, Vin though. He always gets nervous before a job. She looked up at Camon, tasting blood on her lip. She must have let some of her confidence show, because he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and his expression darkened. He raised his hand, as if to strike her again. </p>
<p>Vin used up a bit of her Luck. </p>
<p>She expended just a smidgen; she’d need the rest for the job. She directed the Luck at Camon, calming his nervousness. The crewleader paused—oblivious of Vin’s touch, yet feeling its effects nonetheless. He stood for a moment; then he sighed, turning away and lowering his hand. </p>
<p>Vin wiped her lip as Camon waddled away. The thiefmaster looked very convincing in his nobleman’s suit. It was as rich a costume as Vin had ever seen—it had a white shirt overlaid by a deep green vest with engraved gold buttons. The black suit coat was long, after the current fashion, and he wore a matching black hat. His fingers sparkled with rings, and he even carried a fine dueling cane. Indeed, Camon did an excellent job of imitating a nobleman; when it came to playing a role, there were few thieves more competent than Camon. Assuming he could keep his temper under control. </p>
<p>The room itself was less impressive. Vin pulled herself to her feet as Camon began to snap at some of the other crewmembers. They had rented one of the suites at the top of a local hotel. Not too lavish—but that was the idea. Camon was going to be playing the part of “Lord Jedue,” a country nobleman who had hit upon hard financial times and come to Luthadel to get some final, desperate contracts. </p>
<p>The main room had been transformed into a sort of audience chamber, set with a large desk for Camon to sit behind, the walls decorated with cheap pieces of art. Two men stood beside the desk, dressed in formal stewards’ clothing; they would play the part of Camon’s manservants. </p>
<p>“What is this ruckus?” a man asked, entering the room. He was tall, dressed in a simple gray shirt and a pair of slacks, with a thin sword tied at his waist. Theron was the other crewleader—this particular scam was actually his. He’d brought in Camon as a partner; he’d needed someone to play Lord Jedue, and everyone knew that Camon was one of the best. </p>
<p>Camon looked up. “Hum? Ruckus? Oh, that was just a minor discipline problem. Don’t bother yourself, Theron.” Camon punctuated his remark with a dismissive wave of the hand—there was a reason he played such a good aristocrat. He was arrogant enough that he could have been from one of the Great Houses. </p>
<p>Theron’s eyes narrowed. Vin knew what the man was probably thinking: He was deciding how risky it would be to put a knife in Camon’s fat back once the scam was over. Eventually, the taller crewleader looked away from Camon, glancing at Vin. “Who’s this?” he asked. </p>
<p>“Just a member of my crew,” Camon said. </p>
<p>“I thought we didn’t need anyone else.” </p>
<p>“Well, we need her,” Camon said. “Ignore her. My end of the operation is none of your concern.” </p>
<p>Theron eyed Vin, obviously noting her bloodied lip. She glanced away. Theron’s eyes lingered on her, however, running down the length of her body. She wore a simple white buttoned shirt and a pair of overalls. Indeed, she was hardly enticing; scrawny with a youthful face, she supposedly didn’t even look her sixteen years. Some men preferred such women, however. </p>
<p>She considered using a bit of Luck on him, but eventually he turned away. “The obligator is nearly here,” Theron said. “Are you ready?” </p>
<p>Camon rolled his eyes, settling his bulk down into the chair behind the desk. “Everything is perfect. Leave me be, Theron! Go back to your room and wait.” </p>
<p>Theron frowned, then spun and walked from the room, muttering to himself. </p>
<p>Vin scanned the room, studying the decor, the servants, the atmosphere. Finally, she made her way to Camon’s desk. The crewleader sat rifling through a stack of papers, apparently trying to decide which ones to put out on the desktop. </p>
<p>“Camon,” Vin said quietly, “the servants are too fine.” </p>
<p>Camon frowned, looking up. “What is that you’re babbling?” </p>
<p>“The servants,” Vin repeated, still speaking in a soft whisper. “Lord Jedue is supposed to be desperate. He’d have rich clothing left over from before, but he wouldn’t be able to afford such rich servants. He’d use skaa.” </p>
<p>Camon glared at her, but he paused. Physically, there was little difference between noblemen and skaa. The servants Camon had appointed, however, were dressed as minor noblemen—they were allowed to wear colorful vests, and they stood a little confidently. </p>
<p>“The obligator has to think that you’re nearly impoverished,” Vin said. “Pack the...**</p>
<p>--This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.</p>
<h3>Review</h3>
<p><em>"Elantris</em> is the finest novel of fantasy to be written in many years. Brandon Sanderson has created a truly original world of magic and intrigue, and with the rigor of the best science fiction writers he has made it real at every level."--Orson Scott Card </p>
<p>" <em>Elantris</em> . . . is marked by vivid and strongly drawn characters (including a memorable female character) and ingenious plot twists that will keep the reader turning pages. Don't miss it!"--Katherine Kurtz, <em>New York Times</em> -bestselling author of the Deryni series </p>
<p>"Sanderson's outstanding fantasy debut . . offers something for everyone: mystery, magic, romance, political wrangling, religious conflict, fights for equality, sharp writing and wonderful, robust characters. . . . The intrigue and excitement grow steadily in this smoothly written, perfectly balanced narrative; by the end readers won't want to put it down. . . . Sanderson is a writer to watch." - <em>Publishers Weekly</em> , Starred Review on <em>Elantris</em> </p>
<p>"In this stunning debut novel [is] a completely unique world that enfolds the reader in mystery and wonder right through till the last page."- <em>Romantic Times Bookclub</em> on <em>Elantris</em><br>--This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.</p>
<h3>About the Author</h3>
<p>BRANDON SANDERSON grew up in Lincoln, Nebraska. He lives in Utah with his wife and children and teaches creative writing at Brigham Young University. In addition to completing Robert Jordan’s The Wheel of Time®, he is the author of such bestsellers as the Mistborn trilogy, <em>Warbreaker</em> , <em>The</em> <em>Alloy of Law</em> , <em>The Way of Kings</em> , <em>Rithmatist</em> , and <em>Steelheart</em>. He won the 2013 Hugo Award for “The Emperor’s Soul,” a novella set in the world of his acclaimed first novel, <em>Elantris</em>.</p>
<p>--This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.</p></div>


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<p>Now with over 10 million copies sold, The Mistborn Series has the thrills of a heist story, the twistiness of political intrigue, and the epic scale of a landmark fantasy saga. </p>
<p>The impossible has been accomplished. The Lord Ruler -- the man who claimed to be god incarnate and brutally ruled the world for a thousand years -- has been vanquished. But Kelsier, the hero who masterminded that triumph, is dead too, and now the awesome task of building a new world has been left to his young protégé, Vin, the former street urchin who is now the most powerful Mistborn in the land, and to the idealistic young nobleman she loves. As Kelsier's protégé and slayer of the Lord Ruler she is now venerated by a budding new religion, a distinction that makes her intensely uncomfortable. Even more worrying, the mists have begun behaving strangely since the Lord Ruler died, and seem to harbor a strange vaporous entity that haunts her. </p>
<p>Stopping assassins may keep Vin's Mistborn skills sharp, but it's the least of her problems. Luthadel, the largest city of the former empire, doesn't run itself, and Vin and the other members of Kelsier's crew, who lead the revolution, must learn a whole new set of practical and political skills to help. It certainly won't get easier with three armies – one of them composed of ferocious giants – now vying to conquer the city, and no sign of the Lord Ruler's hidden cache of atium, the rarest and most powerful allomantic metal. As the siege of Luthadel tightens, an ancient legend seems to offer a glimmer of hope. But even if it really exists, no one knows where to find the Well of Ascension or what manner of power it bestows. </p>
<p>Other Tor books by Brandon SandersonThe CosmereThe Stormlight ArchiveThe Way of KingsWords of RadianceEdgedancer (Novella)Oathbringer The Mistborn trilogyMistborn: The Final EmpireThe Well of AscensionThe Hero of AgesMistborn: The Wax and Wayne seriesAlloy of LawShadows of SelfBands of MourningCollectionArcanum UnboundedOther Cosmere novelsElantrisWarbreakerThe Alcatraz vs. the Evil Librarians seriesAlcatraz vs. the Evil LibrariansThe Scrivener's BonesThe Knights of CrystalliaThe Shattered LensThe Dark TalentThe Rithmatist seriesThe RithmatistOther books by Brandon SandersonThe ReckonersSteelheartFirefightCalamityAt the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.</p></div>


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<p>Now with over 10 million copies sold, The Mistborn Series has the thrills of a heist story, the twistiness of political intrigue, and the epic scale of a landmark fantasy saga. </p>
<p>Who is the Hero of Ages?To end the Final Empire and restore freedom, Vin killed the Lord Ruler. But as a result, the Deepness--the lethal form of the ubiquitous mists--is back, along with increasingly heavy ashfalls and ever more powerful earthquakes. Humanity appears to be doomed. </p>
<p>Having escaped death at the climax of The Well of Ascension only by becoming a Mistborn himself, Emperor Elend Venture hopes to find clues left behind by the Lord Ruler that will allow him to save the world. Vin is consumed with guilt at having been tricked into releasing the mystic force known as Ruin from the Well. Ruin wants to end the world, and its near omniscience and ability to warp reality make stopping it seem impossible. She can't even discuss it with Elend lest Ruin learn their plans!Other Tor books by Brandon Sanderson The Cosmere The Stormlight Archive The Way of Kings Words of Radiance Edgedancer (Novella) Oathbringer The Mistborn trilogy Mistborn: The Final Empire The Well of Ascension The Hero of Ages Mistborn: The Wax and Wayne series Alloy of Law Shadows of Self Bands of Mourning Collection Arcanum Unbounded Other Cosmere novels Elantris Warbreaker The Alcatraz vs. the Evil Librarians series Alcatraz vs. the Evil Librarians The Scrivener's Bones The Knights of Crystallia The Shattered Lens The Dark Talent The Rithmatist series The Rithmatist Other books by Brandon Sanderson The Reckoners Steelheart Firefight CalamityAt the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.</p></div>


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<p><strong>The exciting debut novel of bestselling epic fantasy author Brandon Sanderson,</strong> Elantris! </p>
<p>Elantris was the capital of Arelon: gigantic, beautiful, literally radiant, filled with benevolent beings who used their powerful magical abilities for the benefit of all. Yet each of these demigods was once an ordinary person until touched by the mysterious transforming power of the Shaod. Ten years ago, without warning, the magic failed. Elantrians became wizened, leper-like, powerless creatures, and Elantris itself dark, filthy, and crumbling. </p>
<p>Arelon's new capital, Kae, crouches in the shadow of Elantris. Princess Sarene of Teod arrives for a marriage of state with Crown Prince Raoden, hoping -- based on their correspondence -- to also find love. She finds instead that Raoden has died and she is considered his widow. Both Teod and Arelon are under threat as the last remaining holdouts against the imperial ambitions of the ruthless religious fanatics of Fjordell. So Sarene decides to use her new status to counter the machinations of Hrathen, a Fjordell high priest who has come to Kae to convert Arelon and claim it for his emperor and his god. </p>
<p>But neither Sarene nor Hrathen suspect the truth about Prince Raoden. Stricken by the same curse that ruined Elantris, Raoden was secretly exiled by his father to the dark city. His struggle to help the wretches trapped there begins a series of events that will bring hope to Arelon, and perhaps reveal the secret of Elantris itself. </p>
<p style="font-weight: bold">Other Tor books by Brandon Sanderson </p>
<p><strong>The Cosmere</strong><br><strong><br>The Stormlight Archive</strong><br><em>The Way of Kings</em><br><em>Words of Radiance</em><br><em>Edgedancer</em> (Novella)<br><em>Oathbringer</em> </p>
<p><strong>The Mistborn trilogy</strong><br>*Mistborn: The Final Empire<br>The Well of Ascension<br>The Hero of Ages </p>
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<li><strong>Mistborn: The Wax and Wayne series</strong><br><em>Alloy of Law<br>Shadows of Self<br>Bands of Mourning</em> </li></ul>
<p><strong>Collection</strong><br><em>Arcanum Unbounded</em> </p>
<p><strong>Other Cosmere novels</strong><br><em>Elantris</em><br><em>Warbreaker</em> </p>
<p><strong>The Alcatraz vs. the Evil Librarians series</strong><br><em>Alcatraz vs. the Evil Librarians</em><br><em>The Scrivener's Bones</em><br><em>The Knights of Crystallia</em><br><em>The Shattered Lens</em><br><em>The Dark Talent</em> </p>
<p><strong>The Rithmatist series<br></strong><em>The Rithmatist</em> </p>
<p><strong>Other books by Brandon Sanderson</strong><br><strong><br>The Reckoners</strong><br><em>Steelheart</em><br><em>Firefight</em><br><em>Calamity</em></p>
<h3>Review</h3>
<p>“ <em>Elantris</em> is the finest novel of fantasy to be written in many years. Brandon Sanderson has created a truly original world of magic and intrigue, and with the rigor of the best science fiction writers he has made it real at every level.” ― <em>Orson Scott Card</em> </p>
<p>“ <em>Elantris</em> . . . is marked by vivid and strongly drawn characters and ingenious plot twists that will keep the reader turning pages. Don't miss it!” ― <em>Katherine Kurtz, New York Times bestselling author of the Deryni series</em> </p>
<p>“Outstanding fantasy debut . . . . The intrigue and excitement grow steadily in this smoothly written, perfectly balanced narrative; by the end readers won't want to put it down.” ― <em>Publishers Weekly (Starred Review)</em> </p>
<p>“A completely unique world that enfolds the reader in mystery and wonder right through till the last page.” ― <em>Romantic Times BookClub Magazine</em> </p>
<p>“Brandon Sanderson is the real thing--an exciting storyteller with a unique and powerful vision. <em>Elantris</em> is one of the finest debuts I've seen in years.” ― <em>David Farland</em> </p>
<p>“ <em>Elantris</em> is a new <em>Ben Hur</em> for the fantasy genre, with a sweeping, epic storyline and well-drawn and sympathetic characters.” ― <em>Kevin J. Anderson</em> </p>
<p>“While every new fantasy author is hailed as unique, new, and different, Brandon Sanderson's <em>Elantris</em> does indeed provide an absorbing adventure in a unique, different, and well-thought-out fantasy world, with a few nifty twists as well.” ― <em>L. E. Modesitt, Jr.</em> </p>
<p>“Sanderson's fantasy debut offers a vibrant cast of characters and a story of faith and determination set against a vividly portrayed world . . . filled with surprising twists and turns and a conclusion both satisfying and original.” ― <em>Library Journal, Starred Review</em></p>
<h3>About the Author</h3>
<p><strong>Brandon Sanderson</strong> grew up in Lincoln, Nebraska. He lives in Utah with his wife and children and teaches creative writing at Brigham Young University. He is the author of such bestsellers as the Mistborn® trilogy and its sequels, <em>The Alloy of Law</em> , <em>Shadows of Self</em> , and <em>The Bands of Mourning</em> ; the Stormlight Archive novels <em>The Way of Kings</em> and <em>Words of Radiance</em> ; and other novels, including <em>The Rithmatist</em> , <em>Steelheart,</em> and <em>Skyward</em>. In 2013, he won a Hugo Award for Best Novella for <em>The Emperor's Soul</em> , set in the world of his acclaimed first novel, <em>Elantris</em>. Additionally, he was chosen to complete Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time® sequence.</p></div>


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<p>Experience the action-packed first book in #1 New York Times bestselling author Brandon Sanderson's laugh-out-loud middle-grade fantasy series like never before—now in paperback with all new covers!AN ANCIENT RIVALRY REAWAKENS.Everything I'd known about the world was a lie. </p>
<p>On my thirteenth birthday, I, Alcatraz Smedry (yes, I got named after a prison, don’t ask) received my inheritance: a bag of sand. And then I accidentally destroyed my foster parents’ kitchen. It’s not my fault, things just break around me, I swear!I thought the sand was a joke until evil Librarians came to steal it. You’re probably thinking, “Librarians are nice people who recommend good books,” but that’s just what they want you to think! It turns out they’re actually a secret cult keeping the truth from you—a hidden world filled with magical eyeglasses, talking dinosaurs, and knights with crystal swords!Or so my Grandpa Smedry claimed when he suddenly showed up to rescue me. So now I have to go with him to invade the local library and get that sand back, before it's used to conquer the world. And Grandpa says how I keep breaking things is actually an amazing talent. There’s no way that can all be true, right?Will I ever make it back home alive?"An excellent choice to read aloud to the whole family. Funny, exciting, and briskly paced. </p>
<p>" —NPRAt the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.</p></div>


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<p>#1 New York Times bestselling author of the Mistborn series Brandon Sanderson continues the epic adventure he began in Alcatraz vs. the Evil LibrariansSo now you’ve read all about me, Alcatraz Smedry, and how I was swept out of my life in your normal world and into the fight against the Librarians (jerks!). After being all heroic and stuff in that tale, I didn’t expect to charge headlong into enemy territory: the Library of Alexandria, where I—and my grandpa and my grouchy bodyguard Bastille and her even grouchier mother and some weirdly gifted cousins—would face the Curators (ghosts who will gladly help you check out a book as long as you don’t mind giving up your mortal soul) and some new nasty Librarians who hate our guts...and would be happy to rip them out for us. </p>
<p>But none of that comes close to the horror we would have to face if we succeeded in finding what we were searching for...MY DAD! (DUN DUN DUNNNNNN!)The Scrivener's Bones is the second book in this action-packed fantasy series for young readers. </p>
<p>At the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.</p></div>


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<p>A hit in Europe and the U.S., Brandon Sanderson's best-selling Alcatraz books feature an unconventional hero and his battles with the forces of evil-Librarians. Traveling to the Free Kingdom city of Crystallia, Alcatraz is shocked to learn that he is a local legend thanks to being kidnapped as a child by his Evil Librarian mother. Soon the city comes under siege by the Librarians, and Alcatraz, his father, his friend Bastille, and his always late-to-the-party grandpa are the only ones standing in their way.</p>
<h3>About the Author</h3>
<p><strong>Brandon Sanderson</strong> is the author of the #1 <em>New York Times</em> bestseller <em>Words of Radiance</em> and the internationally bestselling books in the Stormlight Archive and the Mistborn series. He was also chosen to complete Robert Jordans the Wheel of Time series. His books have been published in more than twenty-five languages and have sold millions of copies worldwide. He teaches creative writing at Brigham Young University.</p></div>


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<p><em>Alcatraz Versus the Evil Librarians</em> is the first adventure in a fantasy series for young readers by the #1 New York Times bestselling author Brandon Sanderson. The fast-paced and funny series is now available in deluxe hardcover editions illustrated by Hayley Lazo. </p>
<p>On his thirteenth birthday, foster child Alcatraz Smedry gets a bag of sand in the mail-his only inheritance from his father and mother. He soon learns that this is no ordinary bag of sand. It is quickly stolen by the cult of evil Librarians who are taking over the world by spreading misinformation and suppressing truth. Alcatraz must stop them, using the only weapon he has: an incredible talent for breaking things. </p>
<p>"In this original, hysterical homage to fantasy literature, Sanderson's first novel for youth recalls the best in <em>Artemis Fowl</em> and <em>A Series of Unfortunate Events</em>." - <em>VOYA</em></p></div>


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<p>Alcatraz Smedry berhasil menyelamatkan Kerajaan Mokia, namun harga yang harus dibayar sangat mahal; semua Bakat lenyap! Kini Alcatraz dan kawan-kawan harus menyusup ke Perpustakaan Agung, markas utama para penguasa kultus Pustakawan Durjana, untuk mencari penawar bagi Bastille yang berada dalam kondisi koma dan untuk menghentikan ayah Alcatraz merealisasikan rencana yang dapat menghancurkan dunia. Berhasilkah Alcatraz melaksanakan misi ini tanpa Bakat Merusak yang selalu dia andalkan?</p></div>


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<p>Now a USA TODAY Bestseller! Now a New York Times Bestseller!From #1 New York Times bestselling author Brandon Sanderson and Janci Patterson comes Bastille vs. the Evil Librarians, the thrilling conclusion to the Alcatraz vs. the Evil Librarians saga. </p>
<p>As a Knight of Crystallia, I, Bastille, swore to protect the Smedry clan from the Evil Librarians. (And believe me, screwups like them constantly need protecting.) But when Alcatraz Smedry got strapped to an altar of outdated encyclopedias to be sacrificed to the dark gods, I arrived too late—and instead his father took his place. </p>
<p>Now Alcatraz is a blubbering mess, so it’s up to me to lead the charge against his father’s killer: Biblioden, founder of the Evil Librarians—I was sure he died centuries ago!—who’s back to complete his goal of world domination. Now he’s going to use the dark powers he gained from that sacrifice against everyone not under Evil Librarian control. Being burned up from the inside is not how I plan to die, so I’d better figure out some way to stop him or we’re toast!I know Alcatraz is wrong when he swears he’s no hero. But when a hero falls short, that’s the time for everyone else to step up and do what needs to be done. </p>
<p>Other Tor books by Brandon Sanderson The Cosmere The Stormlight Archive The Way of Kings Words of Radiance Edgedancer (Novella) Oathbringer Dawnshard (Novella) Rhythm of War The Mistborn trilogy Mistborn: The Final Empire The Well of Ascension The Hero of Ages Mistborn: The Wax and Wayne series Alloy of Law Shadows of Self Bands of Mourning The Lost Metal Collection Arcanum Unbounded Other Cosmere novels Elantris Warbreaker The Alcatraz vs. the Evil Librarians series Alcatraz vs. the Evil Librarians The Scrivener's Bones The Knights of Crystallia The Shattered Lens The Dark Talent The Rithmatist series The Rithmatist Other books by Brandon Sanderson The Reckoners Steelheart Firefight CalamityAt the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.</p></div>


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<p style="font-weight: bold">A NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER! </p>
<p><strong>From Brandon Sanderson, the #1</strong> New York Times <strong>bestselling author of the Reckoners series,</strong> Words of Radiance, <strong>and the internationally bestselling Mistborn series, comes the first book in an epic new series about a girl who dreams of becoming a pilot in a dangerous world at war for humanity's future.</strong> </p>
<p>Spensa's world has been under attack for decades. Now pilots are the heroes of what's left of the human race, and becoming one has always been Spensa's dream. Since she was a little girl, she has imagined soaring skyward and proving her bravery. But her fate is intertwined with her father's--a pilot himself who was killed years ago when he abruptly deserted his team, leaving Spensa's chances of attending flight school at slim to none. </p>
<p>No one will let Spensa forget what her father did, yet fate works in mysterious ways. Flight school might be a long shot, but she is determined to fly. And an accidental discovery in a long-forgotten cavern might just provide her with a way to claim the stars. </p>
<p><strong>Praise for</strong> Skyward <strong>:</strong><br><strong>A</strong> Kirkus Reviews <strong>Best Book of the Year</strong> </p>
<p>" <strong>Startling revelations and stakes-raising implications</strong>...Sanderson plainly had a ball with this <strong>nonstop, highflying opener,</strong> and readers will too. <em>"--Kirkus Reviews</em> , Starred Review </p>
<p>"With this <strong>action-packed trilogy opener</strong> , Sanderson offers up <strong>a resourceful, fearless heroine and a memorable cast</strong>...[and] as the pulse-pounding story intensifies and reveals its secrets, a cliffhanger ending sets things up for the next installment." <em>--Publishers Weekly</em> , Starred Review </p>
<p>"It is <strong>impossible to turn the pages fast enough.</strong> "-- <em>Booklist</em> </p>
<p>" <strong>Sanderson delivers a cinematic adventure</strong> that explores the defining aspects of the individual versus the society...[and] <strong>fans of [his] will not be disappointed.</strong> " <em>--SLJ</em> </p>
<p><strong>Praise for Brandon Sanderson's Reckoners series:</strong><br><strong>#1</strong> New York Times <strong>Bestselling Series</strong> </p>
<p>" <strong>Another win for Sanderson</strong> . . . <strong>he's simply a brilliant writer.</strong> Period."--Patrick Rothfuss, author of the <em>New York Times</em> and <em>USA Today</em> bestseller <em>The Name of the Wind</em> </p>
<p><strong>"Action-packed."</strong> -- <em>EW</em> </p>
<p>" <strong>Compelling.</strong> . . . Sanderson uses plot twists that he teases enough for readers to pick up on to distract from the more dramatic reveals he has in store."--AV Club</p>
<h3>From School Library Journal</h3>
<p>Gr 9 Up-Since crash-landing on Detritus 80 years ago, the Defiant colonies have been under relentless attack from the Krell. Humanity's only defense are bright young pilots who fearlessly take to the skies to safeguard the community. Seventeen-year-old Spensa aims to join their ranks; however, when your father is the coward pilot who fled during the historic Battle of Alta, passing cadet training seems impossible. Admiral "Ironsides" has no intention of letting a coward's daughter graduate flight school, and even makes sure to ostracize Spensa from her fellow cadets. Yet, an unintentional discovery may be Spensa's key to obtaining a pilot's pin while exposing a decades-old secret. Sanderson delivers a cinematic adventure that explores the defining aspects of the individual versus the society. Spensa, characterized by her father's cowardice, is appropriately driven to question the fundamental idea of free will. Serious moments are balanced with animated scenes, leaving a playful feel over the tense undertone of the novel. Despite a few convenient plot lines, such as a premature romance, Sanderson intrigues with a strong exploration into the thrilling life of a fighter pilot. VERDICT Fans of Sanderson will not be disappointed, and will happily jump into the cockpit with Spensa to "claim the stars."-Emily Walker, Lisle Library District, ILα(c) Copyright 2011. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.</p>
<h3>Review</h3>
<p><strong>Praise for</strong> Skyward <strong>:<br></strong><br><strong>A</strong> New York Times <strong>Bestseller</strong> <br><strong>A</strong> Kirkus Reviews <strong>Best Book of the Year</strong> <strong><br></strong><br>"Reading this book is like standing inside a video game: <strong>all action and movement</strong>. Sanderson’s aerial dogfights are <strong>so masterful.</strong> "— <em>Booklist</em> <br><em><br></em><strong>Praise for Brandon Sanderson's Reckoners series:</strong> </p>
<p><strong>#1</strong> New York Times <strong>Bestselling Series</strong> </p>
<p>" <strong>Another win for Sanderson</strong> . . . <strong>he's simply a brilliant writer.</strong> Period."—Patrick Rothfuss, author of the <em>New York Times</em> and <em>USA Today</em> bestseller <em>The Name of the Wind</em> <br><em><br></em><strong>"Action-packed."</strong> — <em>EW</em> </p>
<p>" <strong>Compelling.</strong> . . . Sanderson uses plot twists that he teases enough for readers to pick up on to distract from the more dramatic reveals he has in store."—AV Club</p>
<h3>About the Author</h3>
<p>Brandon Sanderson is the author of the #1 <em>New York Times</em> bestselling Reckoners series: <em>Steelheart</em> , <em>Firefight</em> , and <em>Calamity</em> , and the e-original <em>Mitosis</em> ; the <em>New York Times</em> bestsellers <em>Skyward</em> and its sequel <em>Starsight</em> ; the internationally bestselling Mistborn trilogy; and the Stormlight Archive. He was chosen to complete Robert Jordan’s The Wheel of Time series, an adaptation of which is coming to Amazon Prime Video in November 2021. His books have been published in more than thirty-five languages and have sold 22 million copies worldwide. Brandon lives and writes in Utah. To learn more about him and his books, visit him at brandonsanderson.com or follow @BrandSanderson on Twitter and Instagram.</p>
<h3>Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.</h3>
<p>I stalked my enemy carefully through the cavern. </p>
<p>I’d taken off my boots so they wouldn’t squeak. I’d removed my socks so I wouldn’t slip. The rock under my feet was comfortably cool as I took another silent step forward.</p>
<p>This deep, the only light came from the faint glow of the worms on the ceiling, feeding off the moisture seeping through cracks. You had to sit for minutes in the darkness for your eyes to adjust to that faint light.</p>
<p>Another quiver in the shadows. There, near those dark lumps that must be enemy fortifications. I froze in a crouch, listening to my enemy scratch the rock as he moved. I imagined a Krell: a terrible alien with red eyes and dark armor.</p>
<p>With a steady hand--agonizingly slow--I raised my rifle to my shoulder, held my breath, and fired.</p>
<p>A squeal of pain was my reward.</p>
<p>Yes!</p>
<p>I patted my wrist, activating my father’s light-line. It sprang to life with a reddish-orange glow, blinding me for a moment.</p>
<p>Then I rushed forward to claim my prize: one dead rat, speared straight through.</p>
<p>In the light, shadows I’d imagined as enemy fortifications revealed themselves as rocks. My enemy was a plump rat, and my rifle was a makeshift speargun. Nine and a half years had passed since that fateful day when I’d climbed to the surface with my father, but my imagination was as strong as ever. It helped relieve the monotony, to pretend I was doing something more exciting than hunting rats.</p>
<p>I held up the dead rodent by its tail. “Thus you know the fury of my anger, fell beast.”</p>
<p>It turned out that strange little girls grow up to be strange young women. But I figured it was good to practice my taunts for when I really fought the Krell. Gran-Gran taught that a great warrior knew how to make a great boast to drive fear and uncertainty into the hearts of her enemies.</p>
<p>I tucked my prize away into my sack. That was eight so far--not a bad haul. Did I have time to find another?</p>
<p>I glanced at my light-line--the bracelet that housed it had a little clock next to the power indicator. 0900. Probably time to turn back; I couldn’t miss too much of the school day.</p>
<p>I slung my sack over my shoulder, picked up my speargun--which I’d fashioned from salvaged parts I’d found in the caverns--and started the hike homeward. I followed my own hand-drawn maps, which I was constantly updating in a small notebook.</p>
<p>A part of me was sad to have to return, and leave these silent caverns behind. They reminded me of my father. Besides, I liked how . . . empty it all was. Nobody to mock me, nobody to stare, nobody to whisper insults until I was forced to defend my family honor by burying a fist in their stupid face.</p>
<p>I stopped at a familiar intersection where the floor and ceiling gave way to strange metal patterns. Circular designs marked with scientific writing covered both surfaces; I’d always thought they must be ancient maps of the galaxy. On the far side of the room, an enormous, ancient tube emerged from the rock--one of many that moved water between the caverns, cleansing it and using it to cool machinery. A seam dripped water into a bucket I’d left, and it was half full, so I took a long drink. Cool and refreshing, with a tinge of something metallic.</p>
<p>We didn’t know much about the people who had built this machinery. Like the rubble belt, it had been here already when our small fleet crashed on the planet. They’d been humans, as the writings on places like this room’s ceiling and floor were in human languages. But how distantly related they were to us was a mystery even now. None of them were still around, and the melted patches and ancient wrecks on the surface indicated that they had suffered their own war.</p>
<p>I poured the rest of the water into my canteen, then gave the large tube a fond pat before replacing the bucket and moving on. The machinery seemed to respond to me with a distant, familiar thrumming. I followed that sound and eventually approached a glowing break in the stone on my left.</p>
<p>I stepped up to the hole and looked out on Igneous. My home cavern and the largest of the underground cities that made up the Defiant League. My perch was high, providing me with a stunning view of a large cave filled with boxy apartments built like cubes splitting off one another.</p>
<p>My father’s dream had come true. In defeating the Krell that day over nine years ago, those fledgling starfighter pilots had inspired a nation. Dozens of once-nomadic clans had congregated, colonizing Igneous and the caverns around it. Each clan had its own name still, traced back to the ship or section of the ship they’d worked on. My clan was the Motorskaps--from the old words for engine crew.</p>
<p>Together, we called ourselves Defiants. A name taken from our original flagship.</p>
<p>Of course, in gathering together, we had drawn the attention of the Krell. The aliens were still determined to destroy humankind, so the war continued, and we needed a constant stream of starfighters and pilots to protect our burgeoning nation.</p>
<p>Towering over the buildings of Igneous was the apparatus: ancient forges, refineries, and manufactories that pumped molten rock from below, then created the parts to build starfighters. The apparatus was both amazing and unique; though machinery in other caverns provided heat, electricity, or filtered water, only the apparatus of Igneous was capable of complex manufacturing.</p>
<p>Heat poured through the crack, making my forehead bead with sweat. Igneous was a sweltering place, with all those refineries, factories, and algae vats. And though it was well lit, it somehow always felt gloomy inside, with that red-orange light from the refineries shining on everything.</p>
<p>I left the crack and walked to an old maintenance locker I’d discovered in the wall here. Its hatch looked--at first glance--like any other section of the stone tunnel, and so was relatively secure. I popped it open, revealing my few secret possessions. Some parts for my speargun, my spare canteen, and my father’s old pilot’s pin. I rubbed that for good luck, then placed my light-line, map book, and speargun in the locker.</p>
<p>I retrieved a crude stone-tipped spear, clicked the hatch closed, then slung my sack over my shoulder. Eight rats could be surprisingly awkward to carry, particularly when--even at seventeen--you had a body that refused to grow beyond a hundred and fifty-one centimeters.</p>
<p>I hiked down to the normal entrance into the cavern. Two soldiers from the ground troops--which barely ever did any real fighting--guarded the way in. Though I knew them both by their first names, they still made me stand to the side as they pretended to call for authorization for me to enter. Really, they just liked making me wait.</p>
<p>Every day. Every scudding day.</p></div>


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<p><strong>The #1</strong> New York Times <strong>bestseller!</strong> </p>
<p><strong>From the #1</strong> New York Times <strong>bestselling author of the Reckoners series, the Mistborn trilogy, and the Stormlight Archive comes the second book in an epic series about a girl with a secret in a dangerous world at war for humanity's future.</strong> </p>
<p>All her life, Spensa's dreamed of becoming a pilot and proving herself a hero like her father. She made it to the sky, but the truths she learned there were crushing. The rumors of her father's cowardice are true--he deserted his Flight during battle against the Krell. Worse, though, he turned against his team and attacked them. </p>
<p>Spensa is sure that there's more to the story. And she's sure that whatever happened to her father that day could happen to her. When she made it outside the protective shell of her planet, she heard the stars--and what they revealed to her was terrifying. Everything Spensa has been taught about her world is a lie. </p>
<p>Humankind has always celebrated heros, but who defines what a hero is? Could humanity be the evil the galaxy needs to be protected from? Spensa is determined to find out, but each answer she discovers reveals a dozen new questions: about the war, about her enemies, and even, perhaps, about Spensa herself. </p>
<p>But Spensa also discovered a few other things about herself--and she'll travel to the end of the galaxy to save humankind if she needs to. </p>
<p>"Sanderson delivers a cinematic adventure that explores the defining aspects of the individual versus the society. . . . Fans of Sanderson <strong>will not be disappointed.</strong> " -- <em>SLJ</em> </p>
<p><strong>"It is impossible to turn the pages fast enough."</strong> -- <em>Booklist</em> </p>
<p><strong>"He's simply a brilliant writer. Period."</strong> --Patrick Rothfuss, author of the <em>New York Times</em> bestseller <em>The Name of the Wind,</em> on Brandon Sanderson.</p>
<h3>Review</h3>
<p><strong>Praise for</strong> Starsight <strong>, the sequel to</strong> Skyward <strong>:</strong> </p>
<p>“ <strong>No one has more fun writing or is better at describing galactic dogfights</strong> …. Read the first one for fun or enjoy the second on its own.” — <em>Booklist</em> ** </p>
<p>Praise for<strong> Skyward </strong>, Book One:** </p>
<p>"Reading this book is like standing inside a video game: all action and movement. Sanderson’s aerial dogfights are so masterful that <strong>it is impossible to turn the pages fast enough.</strong> "— <em>Booklist</em> </p>
<p>"[A] <strong>nonstop, highflying opener</strong>." — <em>Kirkus Reviews</em> , Starred Review </p>
<p>"With this action-packed trilogy opener, Sanderson offers up a resourceful, fearless heroine and a memorable cast."— <em>Publishers Weekly</em> , Starred Review</p>
<h3>About the Author</h3>
<p>Brandon Sanderson is the author of the #1 <em>New York Times</em> bestselling Reckoners series: <em>Steelheart</em> , <em>Firefight</em> , and <em>Calamity</em> , and the e-original <em>Mitosis</em> ; the <em>New York Times</em> bestsellers <em>Skyward</em> and its sequel <em>Starsight</em> ; the internationally bestselling Mistborn trilogy; and the Stormlight Archive. He was chosen to complete Robert Jordan’s The Wheel of Time series, an adaptation of which is coming to Amazon Prime Video in November 2021. His books have been published in more than thirty-five languages and have sold 22 million copies worldwide. Brandon lives and writes in Utah. To learn more about him and his books, visit him at brandonsanderson.com or follow @BrandSanderson on Twitter and Instagram.</p>
<h3>Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.</h3>
<p>1</p>
<p>I slammed on my overburn and boosted my starship through the middle of a chaotic mess of destructor blasts and explosions. Above me extended the awesome vastness of space. Compared to that infinite blackness, both planets and starships alike seemed insignificant. Meaningless. </p>
<p>Except, of course, for the fact that those insignificant starships were doing their best to kill me.</p>
<p>I dodged, spinning my ship and cutting my boosters midturn. Once I’d flipped around, I immediately slammed on the boosters again, burning in the other direction in an attempt to lose the three ships tailing me. </p>
<p>Fighting in space is way different from fighting in atmosphere. For one thing, your wings are useless. No air means no airflow, no lift, no drag. In space, you don’t really fly. You just don’t fall.</p>
<p>I executed another spin and boost, heading back toward the main firefight. Unfortunately, maneuvers that had been impressive down in the atmosphere were commonplace up here. Fighting in a vacuum these last six months had provided a whole new set of skills to master. </p>
<p>“Spensa,” a lively masculine voice said from my console, “you remember how you told me to warn you if you were being extra irrational?” </p>
<p>“No,” I said with a grunt, dodging to the right. The destructor blasts from behind swept over the dome of my cockpit. “I don’t believe I did anything of the sort.” </p>
<p>“You said, ‘Can we talk about this later?’ ”</p>
<p>I dodged again. Scud. Were those drones getting better at dogfighting, or was I losing my touch? </p>
<p>“Technically, it was ‘later’ right after you spoke,” continued the talkative voice--my ship’s AI, M-Bot. “But human beings don’t actually use that word to mean ‘anytime chronologically after this moment.’ They use it to mean ‘sometime after now that is more convenient to me.’ ” </p>
<p>The Krell drones swarmed around us, trying to cut off my escape back toward the main body of the battlefield.</p>
<p>“And you think this is a more convenient time?” I demanded. </p>
<p>“Why wouldn’t it be?” </p>
<p>“Because we’re in combat!” </p>
<p>“Well, I would think that a life-and-death situation is exactly when you’d like to know if you’re being extra irrational.”</p>
<p>I could remember, with some measure of fondness, the days when my starships hadn’t talked back to me. That had been before I’d helped repair M-Bot, whose personality was a remnant of ancient technology we still didn’t understand. I frequently wondered: Had all advanced AIs been this sassy, or was mine just a special case? </p>
<p>“Spensa,” M-Bot said. “You’re supposed to be leading these drones toward the others, remember?” </p>
<p>It had been six months since we’d beaten back the Krell attempt to bomb us into oblivion. Alongside our victory, we’d learned some important facts. The enemy we called “the Krell” were a group of aliens tasked with keeping my people contained on our planet, Detritus, which was kind of a cross between a prison and a nature preserve for human civilization. The Krell reported to a larger galactic government called the Superiority. </p>
<p>They employed remote drones to fight us--piloted by aliens who lived far away, controlling their drones via faster-than-light communications. The drones were never driven by AIs, as it was against galactic law to let a ship pilot itself. Even M-Bot was severely limited in what he could do on his own. Beyond that, there was something that the Superiority feared deeply: people who had the ability to see into the space where FTL communication happened. People called cytonics. </p>
<p>People like me. </p>
<p>They knew what I was, and they hated me. The drones tended to target me specifically--and we could use that. We should use that. In today’s pre-battle briefing, I’d swayed the rest of the pilots reluctantly to go with a bold plan. I was to get a little out of formation, tempt the enemy drones to swarm me, then lead them back through the rest of the team. My friends could then eliminate the drones while they were focused on me. </p>
<p>It was a sound plan. And I’d make good on it . . . eventually. </p>
<p>Now, though, I wanted to test something. </p>
<p>I hit my overburn, accelerating away from the enemy ships. M-Bot was faster and more maneuverable than they were, though part of his big advantage had been in his ability to maneuver at high speed in air without ripping himself apart. Out here in a vacuum that wasn’t a factor, and the enemy drones did a better job of keeping up.</p>
<p>They swarmed after me as I dove toward Detritus. My homeworld was protected by layers of ancient metal platforms--like shells--with gun emplacements all along them. After our victory six months ago, we’d pushed the Krell farther away from the planet, past the shells. Our current long-term strategy was to engage the enemy out here in space and keep them from getting close to the planet.</p>
<p>Keeping them out here had allowed our engineers--including my friend Rodge--to start gaining control of the platforms and their guns. Eventually, that shell of gun emplacements should protect our planet from incursions. For now though, most of those defensive platforms were still autonomous--and could be as dangerous for us as they were for the enemy. </p>
<p>The Krell ships swarmed in behind me, eager to cut me off from the battlefield--where my friends were engaging the rest of the drones in a massive brawl. That tactic of isolating me made one fatal assumption: that if I was alone, I’d be less dangerous. </p>
<p>“We’re not going to turn back around and follow the plan, are we?” M-Bot asked. “You’re going to try to fight them on your own.”</p>
<p>I didn’t respond.</p>
<p>“Jorgen is going to be aaaaaangry,” M-Bot said. “By the way, those drones are trying to chase you along a specific heading, which I’m outlining on your monitor. My analysis projects that they’ve planned an ambush.” </p>
<p>“Thanks,” I said.</p>
<p>“Just trying to keep you from getting me blown up,” M-Bot said. “By the way, if you do get us killed, be warned that I intend to haunt you.” </p>
<p>“Haunt me?” I said. “You’re a robot. And besides, I’d be dead too, right?” </p>
<p>“My robotic ghost would haunt your fleshy one.” </p>
<p>“How would that even work?” </p>
<p>“Spensa, ghosts aren’t real,” he said in an exasperated tone. “Why are you worrying about things like that instead of flying? Honestly, humans get distracted so easily.”</p>
<p>I spotted the ambush: a small group of Krell drones had hidden themselves by a large chunk of metal floating just out of range of the gun emplacements. As I drew close, the ambushing drones emerged and rocketed toward me. I was ready though. I let my arms relax, let my subconscious mind take over. I sank into myself, entering a kind of trance where I listened. </p>
<p>Just not with my ears. </p>
<p>Remote drones worked fine for the Krell in most situations. They were an expendable way to suppress the humans of Detritus. However, the enormous distances involved in space battle forced the Krell to rely on instantaneous faster-than-light communication to control their drones. I suspected their pilots were far away--but even if they were on the Krell station that hung out in space near Detritus, the lag of radio communications from there would make the drones too slow to react in battle. So, FTL was necessary. </p>
<p>That exposed one major flaw. I could hear their orders. </p>
<p>For some reason I didn’t understand, I could listen into the place where FTL communication happened. I called it the nowhere, another dimension where our rules of physics didn’t apply. I could hear into the place, occasionally see into it--and see the creatures that lived there watching me. </p>
<p>A single time, in the climactic battle six months ago, I’d managed to enter that place and teleport my ship a long distance in the blink of an eye. I still didn’t know much about my powers. I hadn’t been able to teleport again, but I’d been learning that whatever existed inside me, I could harness it and use it to fight. </p>
<p>I let my instincts take over, and sent my ship into a complex sequence of dodges. My battle-trained reflexes, melded with my innate ability to hear the drone orders, maneuvered my ship without specific conscious instructions on my part. </p>
<p>My cytonic ability had been passed down my family line. My ancestors had used it to move ancient starfleets around the galaxy. My father had had the ability, and the enemy had exploited it to get him killed. Now I used it to stay alive.</p>
<p>I reacted before the Krell did, responding to their orders--somehow, I processed them even faster than the drones could. By the time they attacked, I was already weaving through their destructor blasts. I darted among them, then fired my IMP, bringing down the shields of everyone nearby. </p>
<p>In my state of focused concentration, I didn’t care that the IMP took down my shield too. It didn’t matter. </p>
<p>I launched my light-lance, and the rope of energy speared one of the enemy ships, connecting it to my own. I then used the difference in our momentum to spin us both around, which put me into position behind the pack of defenseless ships. </p>
<p>Blossoms of light and sparks broke the void as I destroyed two of the drones. The remaining Krell scattered like villagers before a wolf in one of Gran-Gran’s stories. The ambush turned chaotic as I picked a pair of ships and gunned for them with destructors--blasting one away as a part of my mind tracked the orders being given to the others.</p>
<p>“I never fail to be amazed when you do that,” M-Bot said quietly. “You’re interpreting data faster than my projections. You seem almost . . . inhuman.” </p>
<p>I gritted my teeth, bracing, and spun my ship, boosting it after a straggling Krell drone. </p>
<p>“I mean that as a compliment, by the way,” M-Bot said. “Not that there’s anything wrong with humans. I find their frail, emotionally unstable, irrational natures quite endearing.” </p>
<p>I destroyed that drone and bathed my hull in the light of its fiery demise. Then I dodged right between the shots of two others. Though the Krell drones didn’t have pilots on board, a part of me felt sorry for them as they tried to fight back against me--an unstoppable, unknowable force that did not play by the same rules that bound everything else they knew. </p>
<p>“Likely,” M-Bot continued, “I regard humans as I do only because I’m programmed to do so. But hey, that’s no different from instinct programming a mother bird to love the twisted, featherless abominations she spawns, right?”</p>
<p>Inhuman.</p>
<p>I wove and dodged, fired and destroyed. I wasn’t perfect; I occasionally overcompensated and many of my shots missed. But I had a distinct edge. </p>
<p>The Superiority--and its minions the Krell--obviously knew to watch for people like me and my father. Their ships were always on the hunt for humans who flew too well or who responded too quickly. They’d tried controlling my mind by exploiting a weakness in my talent--the same thing they’d done to my father. Fortunately, I had M-Bot. His advanced shielding was capable of filtering out their mental attacks while still allowing me to hear the enemy orders. </p>
<p>All of this raised a singular daunting question. </p>
<p>What was I? </p>
<p>“I would feel a lot more comfortable,” M-Bot said, “if you’d find a chance to reignite our shield.” </p>
<p>“No time,” I said. We’d need a good thirty seconds without flight controls to do that. </p>
<p>I had another chance to break toward the main battle, to follow through with the plan I’d outlined. Instead I spun, then hit the overburn and blasted back toward the enemy ships. My gravitational capacitors absorbed a large percentage of the g-forces and kept me from suffering too much whiplash, but I still felt pressure flattening me against my seat, making my skin pull back and my body feel heavy. Under extreme g-forces, I felt like I’d aged a hundred years in a second.</p>
<p>I pushed through it and fired at the remaining Krell drones. I strained my strange skills to their limits. A Krell destructor shot grazed the dome of my canopy, so bright it left an afterimage in my eyes. </p>
<p>“Spensa,” M-Bot said. “Both Jorgen and Cobb have called to complain. I know you said to keep them distracted, but--” </p>
<p>“Keep them distracted.” </p>
<p>“Resigned sigh.” </p>
<p>I looped us after an enemy ship. “Did you just say the words resigned sigh?” </p>
<p>“I find human nonlinguistic communications to be too easily misinterpreted,” he said. “So I’m experimenting with ways to make them more explicit.” </p>
<p>“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?” </p>
<p>“Obviously not. Dismissive eye-roll.” </p>
<p>Destructors flared around me, but I blasted two more drones. As I did, I saw something appear, reflected in the canopy of my cockpit. A handful of piercing white lights, like eyes, watching me. When I used my abilities too much, something looked out of the nowhere and saw me.</p>
<p>I didn’t know what they were. I just called them the eyes. But I could feel a burning hatred from them. An anger. Somehow, this was all connected. My ability to see and hear into the nowhere, the eyes that watched me from that place, and the teleportation power I’d only managed to use once. </p>
<p>I could still distinctly remember how I’d felt when I’d used it. I’d been on the brink of death, being enveloped by a cataclysmic explosion. In that moment, somehow I’d activated something called a cytonic hyperdrive. </p>
<p>If I could master that ability to teleport, I could help free my people from Detritus. With that power, we could escape the Krell forever. And so I pushed myself. </p>
<p>Last time I’d jumped I’d been fighting for my life. If I could only re-create those same emotions . . .</p>
<p>I dove, my right hand on my control sphere, my left holding the throttle. Three drones swept in behind me, but I registered their shots and turned my ship at an angle so they all missed. I hit the throttle and my mind brushed the nowhere. </p>
<p>The eyes continued to appear, reflected in the canopy, as if it were revealing something that watched from behind my seat. White lights, like stars, but somehow more . . . aware. Dozens of malevolent glowing dots. In entering their realm, even slightly, I became visible to them. </p>
<p>Those eyes unnerved me. How could I be both fascinated by these powers and terrified of them at the same time? It was like the call of the void you felt when standing at the edge of a large cliff in the caverns, knowing you could just throw yourself off into that darkness. One step farther . . .</p>
<p>“Spensa!” M-Bot said. “New ship arriving!” </p>
<p>I pulled out of my trance, and the eyes vanished. M-Bot used the console display to highlight what he’d spotted. A new starfighter, almost invisible against the black sky, emerged from where the others had been hiding. Sleek, it was shaped like a disc and painted the same black as space. It was smaller than normal Krell ships, but it had a larger canopy. </p></div>


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<p>NEW YORK TIMES <strong>BESTSELLER • The third book in an epic series about a girl who will travel beyond the stars to save the world she loves from destruction from the author of the Reckoners series, the Mistborn trilogy, and the Stormlight Archive.</strong> </p>
<p>Spensa’s life as a Defiant Defense Force pilot has been far from ordinary. She proved herself one of the best starfighters in the human enclave of Detritus <em>and</em> she saved her people from extermination at the hands of the Krell—the enigmatic alien species that has been holding them captive for decades. What’s more, she traveled light-years from home as an undercover spy to infiltrate the Superiority, where she learned of the galaxy beyond her small, desolate planet home. </p>
<p>Now, the Superiority—the governing galactic alliance bent on dominating all human life—has started a galaxy-wide war. And Spensa’s seen the weapons they plan to use to end it: the Delvers. Ancient, mysterious alien forces that can wipe out entire planetary systems in an instant. Spensa knows that no matter how many pilots the DDF has, there is no defeating this predator. </p>
<p>Except that Spensa is Cytonic. She faced down a Delver and saw something eerily familiar about it. And maybe, if she’s able to figure out what she is, she could be more than just another pilot in this unfolding war. She could save the galaxy. </p>
<p>The only way she can discover what she really is, though, is to leave behind all she knows and enter the Nowhere. A place from which few ever return. </p>
<p>To have courage means facing fear. And this mission is terrifying.</p>
<h3>Review</h3>
<p><strong>Praise for</strong> Skyward<br><strong>An Instant</strong> New York Times <strong>Bestseller</strong><br><strong>A</strong> Kirkus Reviews <strong>Best Book of the Year</strong> </p>
<p>" <strong>Startling revelations and stakes-raising implications</strong> . . . Sanderson plainly had a ball with this <strong>nonstop, highflying opener,</strong> and readers will too. <em>"</em> — <em>Kirkus Reviews,</em> starred review </p>
<p>"With this <strong>action-packed trilogy opener</strong> , Sanderson offers up <strong>a resourceful, fearless heroine and a memorable cast</strong> . . . [and] as the pulse-pounding story intensifies and reveals its secrets, a cliffhanger ending sets things up for the next installment." — <em>Publishers Weekly,</em> starred review </p>
<p>"It is <strong>impossible to turn the pages fast enough.</strong> " — <em>Booklist</em> </p>
<p>" <strong>Sanderson delivers a cinematic adventure</strong> that explores the defining aspects of the individual versus the society . . . [and] <strong>fans of [his] will not be disappointed.</strong> " — <em>SLJ</em> </p>
<p><strong>Praise for</strong> Starsight, <strong>the sequel to</strong> Skyward <strong><br>An Instant</strong> New York Times <strong>Bestseller</strong> </p>
<p>“ <strong>No one has more fun writing or is better at describing galactic dogfights</strong>. . . . Read the first one for fun or enjoy the second on its own.” — <em>Booklist</em></p>
<h3>About the Author</h3>
<p>Brandon Sanderson is the author of the #1 <em>New York Times</em> bestselling Reckoners series: <em>Steelheart</em> , <em>Firefight</em> , and <em>Calamity</em> , and the e-original <em>Mitosis</em> ; the <em>New York Times</em> bestsellers <em>Skyward</em> and its sequel <em>Starsight</em> ; the internationally bestselling Mistborn trilogy; and the Stormlight Archive. He was chosen to complete Robert Jordan’s The Wheel of Time series, an adaptation of which is coming to Amazon Prime Video in November 2021. His books have been published in more than thirty-five languages and have sold 22 million copies worldwide. Brandon lives and writes in Utah. To learn more about him and his books, visit him at brandonsanderson.com or follow @BrandSanderson on Twitter and Instagram. --This text refers to the hardcover edition.</p>
<h3>Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.</h3>
<p>1 </p>
<p>I dropped out of a wall.</p>
<p>Like, I emerged straight from the stone. I flopped forward in a heap of tangled clothing and limbs. M-Bot made a grunting noise as his drone body fell out beside me, but there was no sign of Doomslug.</p>
<p>I scrambled to my feet, orienting myself, looking around to see . . . a jungle? Like, a real jungle. I’d seen pictures in school of Old Earth, and this place reminded me of those. Imperious moss-covered trees. Branches like broken arms, twisted and draped with thick vines like power lines. It smelled like the algae vats, only more . . . dirty? Earthy?</p>
<p>Scud. It truly was a jungle--like where Tarzan of the Apes had lived in Gran-Gran’s stories. Were there apes here? I’d always thought I’d make a good queen of the apes.</p>
<p>M-Bot hovered up, turning around to take it in. The wall we’d fallen out of was behind us. A flat stone freestanding in the jungle, like a monolith. It was overgrown with weeds and vines, and I recognized the carvings in it. I’d seen similar carvings on a wall in the tunnels on Detritus.</p>
<p>I knew from the delver’s impressions that this was the nowhere. That felt right to me, for reasons I couldn’t explain. Somehow I had to find answers in this place. Which seemed a whole lot more daunting to me now than it had moments ago. I . . . scud, I had barely escaped the Superiority with my life. Now I thought I could find answers about the delvers, one of the universe’s greatest cosmic mysteries?</p>
<p>Not merely about the delvers, I thought. About myself. Because in those moments when I touched the nowhere, and the beings that resided in it, I felt something that terrified me. I felt kinship.</p>
<p>I took a deep breath. First order of business was an inventory. M-Bot looked fine, and I still had my stolen energy rifle. I felt a ton more safe holding it. I wore what I’d escaped in: a standard Superiority pilot’s jumpsuit, a flight jacket, and a pair of combat boots. M-Bot hovered up to eye level in his drone, his grabber arms twitching.</p>
<p>“A jungle?” he asked me. To him, the time I’d spent communing with the delver would have passed in an instant. “Um, Spensa, why are we in a jungle?”</p>
<p>“Not sure,” I said. I glanced around for any sign of Doomslug. She was cytonic like me--slugs were what made ships able to hyperjump--and I hoped that she’d done as I’d asked, and jumped to safety on Detritus.</p>
<p>To be certain, I reached out with my powers to see if I could sense her. Also, could I jump home? I stretched outward, and felt . . .</p>
<p>Nothing? I mean, I still had my powers, but I couldn’t sense Detritus, or the delver maze, or Starsight. None of the places I could normally hyperjump to. It was eerie. Like . . . waking up at night and turning on the lights, only to find infinite blackness around you.</p>
<p>Yes, I was definitely in the nowhere.</p>
<p>“When we entered the black sphere, I felt the delvers,” I said to M-Bot. “And . . . I talked to one of them. The one from before. It said to walk the Path of Elders.” I rested my fingers on the wall behind us. “I think . . . this is a doorway, M-Bot.”</p>
<p>“The stone wall?” M-Bot asked. “The portal we entered was a sphere.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” I said, looking up at the sky through the trees. It was pinkish for some reason.</p>
<p>“Maybe we passed through the nowhere and came out on another planet?” M-Bot said.</p>
<p>“No, this is the nowhere. Somehow.” I stomped my foot, testing the soft earth beneath. The air was humid, like in a bath, but the jungle felt too quiet. Weren’t these places supposed to be teeming with life?</p>
<p>Beams of light filtered in from my right, parallel to the ground. So was it . . . sunset here? I’d always wanted to see one of those. The stories made them sound dramatic. Unfortunately, the trees were so thick that I couldn’t make out the source of the light, merely the direction.</p>
<p>“We need to study this place,” I said. “Set up a base camp, explore the surroundings, get our bearings.”</p>
<p>As if he hadn’t heard, M-Bot floated closer to me.</p>
<p>“M-Bot?”</p>
<p>“I . . . Spensa, I am angry!”</p>
<p>“Me too,” I said, smacking my hand with my fist. “I can’t believe that Brade betrayed me. But--”</p>
<p>“I’m angry at you,” M-Bot interrupted, waving an arm. “Of course, what I feel is not real anger. It’s just a synthetic representation of emotion created by my processors to present humans with a realistic approximation of . . . of . . . Gah!”</p>
<p>I set aside my own concerns and focused on how he sounded. When I’d first found M-Bot in the little drone, his speech had been sluggish and slurred--like he’d been on heavy pain meds. But he was speaking clearly now, and quickly, more like his old self.</p>
<p>He buzzed back and forth in front of me like he was pacing. “I don’t care anymore if the emotions are fake. I don’t care that my routines simulate them. I am angry, Spensa! You abandoned me on Starsight!”</p>
<p>“I had to,” I said. “I had to help Detritus!”</p>
<p>“They ripped my ship apart!” he said, zipping the other direction. Then he froze in place, hovering. “My ship . . . my body . . . It’s gone . . .” He drooped in the air, sagging down almost to the ground.</p>
<p>“Uh, M-Bot?” I said, stepping up. “I’m sorry. Really. But look, can we have this conversation later?”</p>
<p>I was pretty sure that jungles like this were full of dangerous beasts. At least, in Gran-Gran’s stories people always got attacked in jungles. It made sense: anything could be hiding out among those shadowed trunks and deceptive ferns. I remembered how intimidated I’d felt when I’d first stepped out of the caverns and seen the sky. There had been so many directions to look, so many open places.</p>
<p>This was even more unnerving. Something could come at me from any direction. I reached down to touch M-Bot’s drone, which still hovered near the ground. “We should map the area,” I said, “and see if we can find a cave or something for shelter. Does that drone of yours have any kind of sensors? Are you picking up any signs of civilization, like radio broadcasts? There are mining operations in here, I think.”</p>
<p>When he didn’t reply, I knelt beside him. “M-Bot?”</p>
<p>“I,” he said, “am angry.”</p>
<p>“Look--”</p>
<p>“You don’t care. You never care about me! You left me!”</p>
<p>“I came back,” I said. “I left you because I had to! We’re soldiers. Sometimes we have to make difficult decisions!”</p>
<p>“You’re a soldier, Spensa!” he shouted, hovering up in the air. “I’m a survey AI designed to search for mushrooms! Why do I keep letting you push me into doing things? I didn’t want to even enter that sphere, and you pulled me in! Aaah!”</p>
<p>Scud. That drone had surprisingly powerful speakers. And as if in reply to his shouts, something roared in the distance. The sound echoed in the forest ominously.</p>
<p>“Look,” I said softly to M-Bot. “I understand. I’d be a little angry in your place too. Let’s--”</p>
<p>Before I could finish he zipped away into the jungle, sobbing softly to himself.</p>
<p>I cursed and tried to follow, but he could fly--while I had to deal with the underbrush. I leaped over a fallen tree trunk, but on the other side I had to wiggle through a tangle of vines and fronds. After that something caught my foot, and I ended up tumbling to the ground.</p>
<p>When I finally managed to right myself, I realized I had no idea what direction he’d gone. In fact . . . what direction had I come from? Was that log over there the one I’d climbed over? No . . . that had been before I’d pushed through the vines. So . . .</p>
<p>I groaned, settling into the hollow of some overgrown roots, gun in my lap, and sighed. Well, my quest had started in a traditional Spensa-like fashion: with everyone mad at me. I realized that I needed a moment to decompress. M-Bot wasn’t the only one with a lot of powerful emotions.</p>
<p>I’d gone from confronting a delver to floating in space thinking I was dead, to waking up in a hospital, to escaping a hit squad sent to kill me. Now I’d had to make a snap decision about coming to this place, and I worried I was wrong.</p>
<p>Maybe I should have gone home and found a way to send someone else into the nowhere to find answers. Someone smart, like Rig. Or someone careful, like Kimmalyn. Right now I felt lost. I didn’t know what had happened to Cuna, and I worried about my friends.</p>
<p>I was alone, isolated, lost. And to top it off, my only companion--who was supposed to be the emotionally stable one, by programming design--had just thrown a tantrum and left.</p>
<p>Did people in Gran-Gran’s stories ever feel like this? I wished I knew what Khutulun of Mongolia or Calamity Jane of the Wild West had done when feeling overwhelmed.</p>
<p>I don’t know how long I sat there. Long enough to notice that whatever was providing the light here didn’t seem to be moving. I let myself fixate on that instead of my mounting anxiety about Jorgen and my friends.</p>
<p>I’d made my decision. Now that I was here, I needed to learn what I could, then find a way home. “M-Bot?” I said to the trees, my voice coming out as a croak. “If you can hear me, would you please come back? I promise to apologize--and I’ll even let you have the first insult.”</p>
<p>No reply. Only the sound of faintly rustling leaves. So I forced myself to focus on a more detailed inventory of my assets. A way to do something about my situation--no matter how small--in order to start reasserting control. Cobb had taught me that.</p>
<p>Scud. I’d told Cobb that Cuna’s faction wanted peace. Winzik and Brade could use that to lure Cobb into talks--then double-cross him.</p>
<p>No, I told myself. Inventory.</p>
<p>I gave my rifle a quick once-over. I’d barely used up any of its charge during my escape, which meant I had a power source--and roughly five hundred shots, depending on whether I used standard energy rounds or amped rounds.</p>
<p>My jumpsuit didn’t include a medic belt, unfortunately, or a pilot’s survival kit. I did have the translator pin I’d been using at Starsight to understand alien languages. I fished in the pockets of the jacket, hoping maybe I’d shoved a knife or something into one of them without remembering. Instead I pulled out a handful of glowing sand.</p>
<p>Glowing. Sand.</p>
<p>Silver, like it was made of ground-up starfighter hull, and glistening. It was such an incongruous sight that I sat there staring at it as some dribbled between my fingers.</p>
<p>Saints. What was it? I closed my hand and returned it to my pocket, where I noticed something else. A lump at the bottom of the sand? I dug down and pulled out my father’s pilot’s pin. The one I’d kept hidden away since his death. Yet I knew it hadn’t been on me when I’d jumped into the portal. I didn’t even have it on Starsight. I’d left it on Detritus, in my bunk. So how was it suddenly in my pocket, surrounded by silver sand?</p>
<p>Weirded out by its appearance, I tucked the pin away. I didn’t find anything else hiding in my pockets, but I had one other asset I could think of: my powers. I knew I couldn’t hyperjump home--I couldn’t even feel home in here. But I had other abilities; the first I had ever manifested was the power to “hear the stars.” Which in practical terms meant I could communicate across long distances. Maybe I couldn’t hyperjump out of here, but could I reach Gran-Gran mentally?</p>
<p>I settled back against the tree and decided to give it a try. I just closed my eyes and . . . listened, extending my mind. That sounds silly, but I’d spent hours with Gran-Gran practicing this. And today I felt something.</p>
<p>There was a mind near me. It was familiar, like a presence I’d once known. Who was it? Not Gran-Gran . . . not Jorgen . . . not even the delver. I tried contacting the mind, and I got . . . a sensation of contentment? That was odd.</p>
<p>Then I felt something else. A second mind nearby. They were cytonic, whoever they were, because the moment our minds brushed a voice popped into my head.</p>
<p>Ho there! it said. Another cytonic, in the belt?</p>
<p>Yes! I sent. I’m lost. Can you help?</p>
<p>Careful now, the voice said. Dangerous things can hear you in here if you use your powers! Where are you? Describe your fragment, and I shall endeavor to locate you.</p>
<p>Fragment? I sent. I’m in a jungle. By . . . um . . . a tree?</p>
<p>I needed to find a better landmark. As soon as I considered it though, I hesitated. What if this was an enemy? How did I know the voice could be trusted?</p>
<p>At that moment, I got attacked.</p>
<p>2</p>
<p>There were three of them. Two birdlike humanoids with wing-arms leaped around the tree from the right to tackle me, and a blue-skinned dione came in from the left--probably to go for the rifle, which I had slung over that shoulder.</p>
<p>It was a good plan, but man were they sloppy. The first avian slipped as it jumped, tripping the other one and giving me enough warning to turn and start raising my weapon. That almost let me shoot them--but the energy blast went wild as the dione got a hand on the gun.</p>
<p>They grunted, trying to brute-force wrestle the rifle away. The wrong move; even I knew that from my limited DDF training. They should have slapped the barrel, controlled the weapon with one hand, and then gone for my face with the other.</p>
<p>I shoved the dione away, but the two avians tackled me. Grunting, I rammed the butt of the gun into one of them, earning me a squawk of pain. I pulled hard, twisting, and started to wiggle free.</p>
<p>Unfortunately, just as I was about to slide out of the writhing mess of people, someone else grabbed me from behind. A feathered fourth enemy? The group had apparently been smart enough to leave someone in reserve.</p>
<p>I struggled against the fourth attacker, disoriented, as a fifth creature bodychecked me. I didn’t get a good look at this last guy--he was furry, and roughly the size of a refrigerator. While I’m . . . well, not. I’d stretched the truth to get 152 centimeters listed on my pilot records.</p>
<p>--This text refers to the hardcover edition.</p></div>


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<p>From #1 bestselling author Brandon Sanderson and Janci Patterson comes the first of three Skyward series novellas, each told from the perspective of a different member of the team back on Detritus. Read FM's story between Starsight and Cytonic. </p>
<p>When a planet-destroying Delver suddenly appears in the sky of Detritus and vanishes just as suddenly, FM knows that the last free human society got lucky. Her Skyward Flight companion, Spensa, figured out how to draw this Delver away, but it won’t be so easy next time. The forces of the Galactic Superiority will be back—and if the Defiant Defense Force can’t figure out a way to escape the planet, humanity’s destruction is only a matter of time. Spensa’s mission to infiltrate the Superiority unveiled the secret to their hyperdrives—a cytonic slug species called the Taynix. Now FM’s flightleader, Jorgen, has found a large group of Taynix hiding in the caverns far below Detritus’s surface. FM and Jorgen must work together with the engineer Rig to awaken the mysterious alien Alanik and unlock the powers of the Taynix, or humanity will be trapped. With Spensa’s friend Minister Cuna of the Superiority stranded at the outpost of Sunreach, they need to figure out how to rescue them—or the Superiority government will be in the sole clutches of those who want to wipe out Detritus once and for all. Praise for SkywardAn Instant New York Times BestsellerA Kirkus Reviews Best Book of the Year   • "Startling revelations and stakes-raising implications . . . Sanderson plainly had a ball with this nonstop, highflying opener, and readers will too. </p>
<p>" —Kirkus Reviews, starred review   • "With this action-packed trilogy opener, Sanderson offers up a resourceful, fearless heroine and a memorable cast. </p>
<p>" —Publishers Weekly, starred review   • "It is impossible to turn the pages fast enough. </p>
<p>" —Booklist</p></div>


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<p>From #1 bestselling author Brandon Sanderson and Janci Patterson comes the second of three Skyward series novellas, set between Starsight and Cytonic. </p>
<p>"Don't trust their lies. Don't trust their false peace. </p>
<p>" That is the warning that Alanik of the planet ReDawn told the human pilot Spensa after Alanik's ship crash-landed on Detritus. While accepting an invitation to meet with her people's enemy, the Galactic Superiority, Alanik heard Spensa's cry for help across the vastness of space, and she used her cytonic powers to hyperjump her ship to the source of that cry. What she found there was a shock-a whole planet of free humans fighting against the Superiority. Could they be the allies her people desperately needed? When she recovered from her injuries and met the friendly humans Jorgen and FM of Skyward Flight, she found that her warning to Spensa had gone unheeded by the government of Detritus, and they were considering a peace overture from the Superiority. Now having returned to ReDawn, Alanik is dismayed to learn that her own people are falling into the exact same trap. The faction in ReDawn's government that wants to appease the Superiority has gained the upper hand. With Alanik's mentor Renakin captured, she has no one to turn to but Jorgen, FM, and their friend Rig. An ancient technology may have the power to save both of their planets from disaster, but can they discover its secrets before it's too late?</p></div>


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<p>From #1 bestselling author Brandon Sanderson and Janci Patterson comes the final of three Skyward series novellas, each told from the perspective of a different member of the team back on Detritus. Listen to Jorgen's story along with Cytonic. </p>
<p>With the government of Detritus in disarray because of Superiority treachery, and with Spensa still away on her mission in the Nowhere, Jorgen must work together with the alien Alanik to pick up the pieces. They intercept a strange transmission from the planet Evershore and its Kitsen inhabitants, who say they have some of Jorgen’s people and want to return them—but can the Kitsen be trusted? And can Jorgen learn to master his increasingly erratic cytonic powers before they spiral out of control and destroy all hope of forming an alliance against the Superiority? Praise for SkywardAn Instant New York Times BestsellerA Kirkus Reviews Best Book of the Year   • "Startling revelations and stakes-raising implications . . . Sanderson plainly had a ball with this nonstop, highflying opener, and readers will too. </p>
<p>" —Kirkus Reviews, starred review   • "With this action-packed trilogy opener, Sanderson offers up a resourceful, fearless heroine and a memorable cast. </p>
<p>" —Publishers Weekly, starred review   • "It is impossible to turn the pages fast enough. </p>
<p>" —Booklist</p></div>


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<p>Legion: The Many Lives of Stephen Leeds <strong>, is #1</strong> New York Times <strong>bestselling author Brandon Sanderson's novella collection of science fiction thrillers that will make you question reality--including a never-before-published story.<br></strong><br>Stephen Leeds is perfectly sane. It's his hallucinations who are mad. </p>
<p>A genius of unrivaled aptitude, Stephen can learn any new skill, vocation, or art in a matter of hours. However, to contain all of this, his mind creates hallucinatory people―Stephen calls them aspects―to hold and manifest the information. Wherever he goes, he is joined by a team of imaginary experts to give advice, interpretation, and explanation. He uses them to solve problems . . . for a price. </p>
<p>His brain is getting a little crowded and the aspects have a tendency of taking on lives of their own. When a company hires him to recover stolen property―a camera that can allegedly take pictures of the past―Stephen finds himself in an adventure crossing oceans and fighting terrorists. What he discovers may upend the foundation of three major world religions―and, perhaps, give him a vital clue into the true nature of his aspects. </p>
<p><em>Legion: The Many Lives of Stephen Leeds</em> includes <em>Legion</em> , <em>Legion: Skin Deep</em> and the brand new, shocking finale to Leeds' story, <em>Lies of the Beholder.</em></p></div>


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<p>The #1 New York Times bestseller from Brandon Sanderson, the author of Oathbringer, coauthor of Robert Jordan’s The Wheel of Time series, and creator of the internationally bestselling Mistborn trilogy. And don’t miss the rest of the Reckoners series: Firefight and Calamity.   How far would you go for revenge if someone killed your father?   If someone destroyed your city?   If everything you ever loved was taken from you?   David Charleston will go to any lengths to stop Steelheart. But to exact revenge in Steelheart’s world, David will need the Reckoners—a shadowy group of rebels bent on maintaining justice.    And it turns out that the Reckoners might just need David too.   Look for book two in the Reckoners series, Firefight, available now. </p>
<p>Praise for the Reckoners series #1 New York Times Bestselling Series “Another win for Sanderson . . . he’s simply a brilliant writer. Period.” —Patrick Rothfuss, author of the New York Times and USA Today bestseller The Name of the Wind   “Action-packed.” —EW.com   “Compelling. . . . Sanderson uses plot twists that he teases enough for readers to pick up on to distract from the more dramatic reveals he has in store.” —The A.V. Club</p></div>


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<p>The #1 New York Times bestseller and sequel to Steelheart from Brandon Sanderson, the author of Oathbringer, coauthor of Robert Jordan’s The Wheel of Time series, and creator of the internationally bestselling Mistborn trilogy, presents the second book in the Reckoners series: Firefight. And don’t miss Calamity, the exciting conclusion to the Reckoners series!   Newcago is free.   They told David it was impossible, that even the Reckoners had never killed a High Epic. Yet Steelheart--invincible, immortal, unconquerable--is dead. And he died by David's hand.   Eliminating Steelheart was supposed to make life simpler. Instead, it only made David realize he has questions. Big ones. And no one in Newcago can give him answers.   Babylon Restored, the city formerly known as the borough of Manhattan, has possibilities, though. Ruled by the mysterious High Epic Regalia, Babylon Restored is flooded and miserable, but David is sure it's the path that will lead him to what he needs to find. Entering a city oppressed by a High Epic despot is risky, but David's willing to take the gamble. Because killing Steelheart left a hole in David's heart. A hole where his thirst for vengeance once lived. Somehow, he filled that hole with another Epic--Firefight. And now he will go on a quest darker and even more dangerous than the fight against Steelheart to find her, and to get his answers. </p>
<p>Praise for the Reckoners Series:#1 New York Times Bestselling Series “Another win for Sanderson . . . he’s simply a brilliant writer. Period.” —Patrick Rothfuss, author of the New York Times and USA Today bestseller The Name of the Wind   “Action-packed.” —EW.com   “Compelling. . . . Sanderson uses plot twists that he teases enough for readers to pick up on to distract from the more dramatic reveals he has in store.” —The A.V. Club</p></div>


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<p>Read the final book in the #1 New York Times bestselling Reckoners series by worldwide bestselling author Brandon Sanderson!     When Calamity lit up the sky, the Epics were born. David’s fate has been tied to their villainy ever since that historic night. Steelheart killed his father. Firefight stole his heart. And now Regalia has turned Prof, his closest ally, into a dangerous enemy.    David knew Prof’s secret, and kept it even when Prof struggled to control the effects of his Epic powers. But facing Obliteration in Babilar was too much. Once the Reckoners’ leader, Prof has now embraced his Epic destiny. He’s disappeared into those murky shadows of menace Epics are infamous for the world over, and everyone knows there’s no turning back. . . .   But everyone is wrong. Redemption is possible for Epics—Megan proved it. They’re not lost. Not completely. And David is just about crazy enough to face down the most powerful High Epic of all to get his friend back. Or die trying.   Praise for the Reckoners series: #1 New York Times Bestselling Series “Another win for Sanderson . . . he’s simply a brilliant writer. Period.” —Patrick Rothfuss, author of the New York Times and USA Today bestseller The Name of the Wind   “Action-packed.” —EW.com   “Compelling. . . . Sanderson uses plot twists that he teases enough for readers to pick up on to distract from the more dramatic reveals he has in store.” —The A.V. Club</p></div>


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<p>If you could re-create a day, what dark secrets would you uncover?From New York Times #1 bestselling author Brandon Sanderson comes a detective thriller in a police beat like no other. Anthony Davis and his partner Chaz are the only real people in a city of 20 million, sent there by court order to find out what happened in the real world 10 days ago so that hidden evidence can be brought to light and located in the real city today. </p>
<p>Within the re-created Snapshot of May 1st, Davis and Chaz are the ultimate authorities. Flashing their badges will get them past any obstruction and overrule any civil right of the dupes around them. But the crimes the detectives are sent to investigate seem like drudgery—until they stumble upon the grisly results of a mass killing that the precinct headquarters orders them not to investigate. That’s one order they have to refuse. </p>
<p>The hunt is on. And though the dupes in the replica city have no future once the Snapshot is turned off, that doesn’t mean that both Davis and Chaz will walk out of it alive tonight. </p>
<p>Film rights have now been optioned by MGM, with Broken Road Productions and Entertainment 360 producing.</p></div>


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<p>The epic tale by New York Times best-selling author Brandon Sanderson returns with an incredible omnibus anniversary edition! Celebrating five years since its publication, we have collected all three volumes of this seminal tale into a massive nearly 500 page tome that tells the complete story in one beautiful edition. This masterful tale will captivate you with powerful characters in an unfathomable world that only the masterwork of Sanderson can deliver! </p>
<p>White Sand brings to life a crucial component of the sprawling Cosmere universe. The previously unpublished story is told by Brandon Sanderson and Rik Hoskin (Mercy Thompson), with art by Julius Gopez &amp; colors by Ross Campbell. </p>
<p>On the planet of Taldain, the legendary Sand Masters harness arcane powers to manipulate sand in spectacular ways. But when they are slaughtered in a sinister conspiracy, the weakest of their number, Kenton, believes himself to be the only survivor. With enemies closing in on all sides, Kenton forges an unlikely partnership with Khriss -- a mysterious Darksider who hides secrets of her own. Assassins are coming for them from all directions, and Kenton's only true ally is Khriss, a visitor from the other side of the planet who has an agenda of her own to pursue.</p></div>


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<p><strong>AN INSTANT</strong> NEW YORK TIMES **BESTSELLER! </p>
<p>An NPR Best Book of 2022 </p>
<p>"The questions throughout <strong>What If? 2 </strong>are equal parts brilliant, gross, and wonderfully absurd and the answers are thorough, deeply researched, and great fun. . . . Science isn’t easy, but in Munroe’s capable hands, it surely can be fun." —<strong> TIME<br></strong><br>The #1<strong> New York Times </strong>bestselling author of<strong> What If? </strong>and<strong> How To </strong>answers more of the weirdest questions you never thought to ask** </p>
<p>The millions of people around the world who read and loved <em>What If?</em> still have questions, and those questions are getting stranger. Thank goodness <em>xkcd</em> creator Randall Munroe is here to help. Planning to ride a fire pole from the Moon back to Earth? The hardest part is sticking the landing. Hoping to cool the atmosphere by opening everyone’s freezer door at the same time? Maybe it’s time for a brief introduction to thermodynamics. Want to know what would happen if you rode a helicopter blade, built a billion-story building, made a lava lamp out of lava, or jumped on a geyser as it erupted? Okay, if you insist. </p>
<p>Before you go on a cosmic road trip, feed the residents of New York City to a T. rex, or fill every church with bananas, be sure to consult this practical guide for impractical ideas. Unfazed by absurdity, Munroe consults the latest research on everything from swing-set physics to airliner catapult–design to answer his readers’ questions, clearly and concisely, with illuminating and occasionally terrifying illustrations. As he consistently demonstrates, you can learn a lot from examining how the world might work in very specific extreme circumstances.</p>
<h3>Review</h3>
<p>**Praise for What If? 2 </p>
<p style="font-style: italic">“Delightful. . . Randall Munroe has made a career out of sharing his joy in science and engineering. . . . This book and its predecessor inspire us to believe that, even in a vast and mysterious universe, there’s a lot we can figure out with nothing but a sharp pencil, come basic scientific knowledge and a vivid imagination.” — The Wall Street Journal </p>
<p>"The questions throughout <em>What If? 2</em> are equal parts brilliant, gross, and wonderfully absurd and the answers are thorough, deeply researched, and great fun. . . . Science isn’t easy, but in Munroe’s capable hands, it surely can be fun." — <em>TIME</em> </p>
<p>"Picking this book up now and then enlivens life by letting you briefly consider the effects of, say, putting an indestructible 20-meter-wide glass tube all the way down to the deepest part of the ocean. Plus, Munroe’s illustrations turn stick figures and flowcharts into the stuff of existential hilarity." —NPR </p>
<p>"Entertaining. . . . combines Munroe’s true research and truly funny prose with his signature stick-figure illustrations." — <em>The Washington Post</em> </p>
<p>"Perfect if you enjoy it when stuffy figures of authority crack a smile. Or if you like it when black holes form. That happens a lot." — *Newsweek </p>
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<li>"One of my favorite books of the year." —Tim Harford, <em>Financial Times</em> </li></ul>
<p>"It's an absolute delight! It's the coolest way to learn how the world actually works." —Hank Green (on the <em>Dear Hank &amp; John</em> podcast) </p>
<p>“A delight for science geeks with a penchant for oddball thought experiments.” — <em>Kirkus</em><br><strong><br>Praise for Randall Munroe and</strong> What If? </p>
<p>“Randall Munroe is a national treasure.” —Phil Plait </p>
<p>“Extreme astrophysics and indecipherable chemistry have rarely been this clearly explained or this consistently hilarious.” — <em>Entertainment Weekly</em> “10 Best Nonfiction Books of the Year” </p>
<p>“Consistently fascinating and entertaining...Munroe leavens the hard science with whimsical touches... An illuminating handbook of methods of reasoning.” — <em>Wall Street Journal</em> </p>
<p>“It’s fun to watch as Munroe tackles each question and examines every possible complication with nerdy and methodical aplomb.... The delightfully demented <em>What If?</em> is the most fun you can have with math and science, short of becoming your own evil genius.” — <em>Boston Globe</em></p>
<h3>About the Author</h3>
<p><strong>Randall Munroe</strong> is the author of the <em>New York Times</em> bestsellers <em>What If? 2, How To</em> , <em>What If?</em> , and <em>Thing Explainer</em> ; the science question-and-answer blog <em>What If?</em> ; and the popular web comic <em>xkcd</em>. A former NASA roboticist, he left the agency in 2006 to draw comics on the internet full time. He lives in Massachusetts.</p></div>


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<p>The prequel novel to the globally bestselling <em>Wheel of Time</em> series - a fantasy phenomenon </p>
<p>The city of Canluum lies close to the scarred and desolate wastes of the Blight, a walled haven from the dangers away to the north, and a refuge from the ill works of those who serve the Dark One. Or so it is said. The city that greets Al'Lan Mandragoran, exiled king of Malkier and the finest swordsman of his generation, is instead one that is rife with rumour and the whisperings of Shadowspawn. Proof, should he have required it, that the Dark One grows powerful once more and that his minions are at work throughout the lands. </p>
<p>And yet it is within Canluum's walls that Lan will meet a woman who will shape his destiny. Moiraine is a young and powerful Aes Sedai who has journeyed to the city in search of a bondsman. She requires aid in a desperate quest to prove the truth of a vague and largely discredited prophecy - one that speaks of a means to turn back the shadow, and of a child who may be the dragon reborn.</p></div>


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<p style="font-weight: bold">Soon to be an original series starring Rosamund Pike as Moiraine! </p>
<p><strong>The first novel in Robert Jordan's #1</strong> New York Times <strong>bestselling epic fantasy series, The Wheel of Time®.</strong> </p>
<p>The Wheel of Time turns and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth returns again. What was, what will be, and what is, may yet fall under the Shadow. </p>
<p>Moiraine Damodred arrives in Emond’s Field on a quest to find the one prophesized to stand against The Dark One, a malicious entity sowing the seeds of chaos and destruction. When a vicious band of half-men, half beasts invade the village seeking their master’s enemy, Moiraine persuades Rand al’Thor and his friends to leave their home and enter a larger unimaginable world filled with dangers waiting in the shadows and in the light. </p>
<p style="font-weight: bold">Since its debut in 1990, The Wheel of Time® has captivated millions of readers around the globe with its scope, originality, and compelling characters. </p>
<p><strong>The Wheel of Time</strong> <strong>®</strong><br><em>New Spring: The Novel</em> </p>
<h1>1 <em>The Eye of the World</em></h1>
<h1>2 <em>The Great Hunt</em></h1>
<h1>3 <em>The Dragon Reborn</em></h1>
<h1>4 <em>The Shadow Rising</em></h1>
<h1>5 <em>The Fires of Heaven</em></h1>
<h1>6 <em>Lord of Chaos</em></h1>
<h1>7 <em>A Crown of Swords</em></h1>
<h1>8 <em>The Path of Daggers</em></h1>
<h1>9 <em>Winter's Heart</em></h1>
<h1>10 <em>Crossroads of Twilight</em></h1>
<h1>11 <em>Knife of Dreams</em></h1>
<p style="font-weight: bold">By Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson </p>
<h1>12 <em>The Gathering Storm</em></h1>
<h1>13 <em>Towers of Midnight</em></h1>
<h1>14 <em>A Memory of Light</em></h1>
<p><strong>By Robert Jordan and Teresa Patterson</strong><br><em>The World of Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time</em> </p>
<p><strong>By Robert Jordan, Harriet McDougal, Alan Romanczuk, and Maria Simons</strong><br><em>The Wheel of Time Companion</em> </p>
<p><strong>By Robert Jordan and</strong> <strong>Amy Romanczuk</strong><br><em>Patterns of the Wheel:</em> <em>Coloring Art Based on Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time</em></p>
<h3>Review</h3>
<p>“ <em>The Eye of the World</em> is the best of its genre.” – <em>The Ottawa Citizen</em> </p>
<p>“A splendid tale of heroic fantasy, vast in scope, colorful in detail, and convincing in its presentation of human character and personality.” – L. Sprague de Camp </p>
<p>“This richly detailed fantasy presents fully realized, complex adventure. Recommended.”- <em>Library Journal</em> </p>
<p>“This one is as solid as a steel blade and glowing with the true magic. Robert Jordan deserves congratulations.” – Fred Saberhagen </p>
<p>“One hell of a story. [It] kept me up past my bedtime for three nights running― and it’s been a long time since a novel’s done <em>that</em>.” – Baird Searles, <em>Asimov’s Science Fiction</em> </p>
<p>“A future collector’s item. Jordan has brought out a completely new allegory in a fantasy concept that goes even beyond this massive story, working with an artist’s eye and the sense of responsibility of a serious historian.” – Gordon R. Dickson </p>
<p>“Classic oppositions are brought into play: initiates versus innocents, good versus evil, the spiritual power of women versus that of men. The travelers themselves are full of subtleties and shadows―ordinary villagers who, thrust into cosmic conflict, are unable to abandon their simple human desires and fears. <br>“This intricate allegorical fantasy recalls the works of Tolkien because of its intensity and warmth.” – <em>Publisher’s Weekly</em> </p>
<p>“Robert Jordan has come to dominate the world Tolkien began to reveal.” – <em>The New York Times</em> </p>
<p>“This has magic and pacing and detail and human involvement, with a certain subtlety of a presentation and a grand central vision. Robert Jordan… is a lot of writer!” – Piers Anthony </p>
<p>“An exciting story; the reader is drawn in early and kept there until the last page. There is adventure and mystery and dark things that move in the night-- a combination of Robin Hood and Stephen King that is hard to resist… Jordan makes the reader care about these characters as though they were old friends; so much so that the reader will put down the book regretting the wait for the next title in the series.” – <em>Milwaukee Journal Sentinel</em> </p>
<p>“A classic fantasy tale of the struggle between light and darkness, good and evil, death and life. Goodness, life, and light are always in retreat, always about to be defeated, but never quite! Don’t miss it!” – Andrew M. Greeley </p>
<p>“Certainly a title I want to add to my permanent collection, and I shall be eagerly awaiting the sequel, which is promised at the end.” – Andre Norton</p>
<h3>From the Back Cover</h3>
<p>The Wheel of Time turns and Ages come and go, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth returns again. In the Third Age, an Age of Prophecy, the World and Time themselves hang in the balance. What was, what will be, and what is, may yet fall under the Shadow. </p>
<p>"Jordan is able to take ... familiar elements and make them his own, in a powerful novel of wide and complex scope. Open religious and political conflicts add a gritty realism, while the cities and courts provide plenty of drama and splendor. Women have a stronger role than in Tolkien.... Each character in this large cast remains distinct.... Their adventures are varied, and exciting.... <em>The Eye of the World</em> stands alone as a fantasy epic."-- <em>Locus</em> </p>
<p>"Robert Jordan has created a fantasy world as tangible and credible as history. He has a fine eye for detail and a vivid sense of drama."--Morgan Llewelyn </p>
<p>"Robert Jordan's <em>The Eye of the World</em> proves that there's still plenty of life in the ancient tradition of epic fantasy. Jordan has a powerful vision of good and evil-- but what strikes me as most pleasurable about <em>The Eye of the World</em> is all the fascinating people moving through a rich and interesting world."--Orson Scott Card </p>
<p>"Jordan's world is rich in detail and his plot is rich in incident. Impressive work, and highly recommended."-- <em>ALA Booklist</em></p>
<h3>About the Author</h3>
<p>ROBERT JORDAN (1948-2007) is best known for his internationally bestselling epic fantasy series The Wheel of Time®, which has sold over 40 million copies in North America and is currently being adapted for the screen. A native of Charleston, Jordan graduated from The Citadel, the Military College of South Carolina, with a degree in physics. He served two tours in Vietnam with the U.S. Army and received multiple decorations for his service.</p></div>


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<p>**Soon to be an original series starring Rosamund Pike as Moiraine! </p>
<p>Robert Jordan’s #1 New York Times bestselling epic fantasy series, The Wheel of Time®, continues as Rand al’Thor and his companions set out to retrieve a powerful magical artifact from The Dark One’s Shadowspawn in The Great Hunt.** </p>
<p>For centuries, gleemen have told the tales of The Great Hunt of the Horn. So many tales about each of the Hunters, and so many Hunters to tell of... </p>
<p>Now the Horn itself is found: the Horn of Valere long thought only legend, the Horn which will raise the dead heroes of the ages. </p>
<p>And it is stolen. </p>
<p>In pursuit of the thieves, Rand al’Thor is determined to keep the Horn out of the grasp of The Dark One. But he has also learned that he is The Dragon Reborn―the Champion of Light destined to stand against the Shadow time and again. It is a duty and a destiny that requires Rand to uncover and master magical capabilities he never imagined he possessed. </p>
<p>Since its debut in 1990, The Wheel of Time® has captivated millions of readers around the globe with its scope, originality, and compelling characters. The last six books in series were all instant #1 New York Times bestsellers, and The Eye of the World was named one of America's best-loved novels by PBS's The Great American Read.<br><strong><br>The Wheel of Time</strong> <strong>®</strong><br><em>New Spring: The Novel</em> </p>
<h1>1 <em>The Eye of the World</em></h1>
<h1>2 <em>The Great Hunt</em></h1>
<h1>3 <em>The Dragon Reborn</em></h1>
<h1>4 <em>The Shadow Rising</em></h1>
<h1>5 <em>The Fires of Heaven</em></h1>
<h1>6 <em>Lord of Chaos</em></h1>
<h1>7 <em>A Crown of Swords</em></h1>
<h1>8 <em>The Path of Daggers</em></h1>
<h1>9 <em>Winter's Heart</em></h1>
<h1>10 <em>Crossroads of Twilight</em></h1>
<h1>11 <em>Knife of Dreams</em></h1>
<p style="font-weight: bold">By Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson </p>
<h1>12 <em>The Gathering Storm</em></h1>
<h1>13 <em>Towers of Midnight</em></h1>
<h1>14 <em>A Memory of Light</em></h1>
<p><strong>By Robert Jordan</strong> <br><em>Warrior of the Altaii<br></em><br><strong>By Robert Jordan and Teresa Patterson</strong><br><em>The World of Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time</em> </p>
<p><strong>By Robert Jordan, Harriet McDougal, Alan Romanczuk, and Maria Simons</strong><br><em>The Wheel of Time Companion</em> </p>
<p><strong>By Robert Jordan and</strong> <strong>Amy Romanczuk</strong><br><em>Patterns of the Wheel:</em> <em>Coloring Art Based on Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time</em></p>
<h3>Review</h3>
<p><strong>Praise for</strong> The Great Hunt </p>
<p>“Jordan has come to dominate the world that Tolkien began to reveal… The battle scenes have the breathless urgency of firsthand experience, and the… evil laced into the forces of good, the dangers latent in any promised salvation, the sense of the unavoidable onslaught of unpredictable events bear the marks of American national experience during the last three decades.” – Edward Rothstein, <em>The New York Times</em> </p>
<p>“Those who like fantasy can rejoice. This is the genuine article… characters you can care about, a world you can believe in, hideous monsters, battles, magic, even love.<br>“I only have one problem. How am I going to get by until the next volume comes out?”― John Lee, author of <em>The Unicorn Solution</em> </p>
<p>“Rousing, slam-bang… full of valiant skirmishes, great heroes, and close rescues. The real war is only beginning, but this one battle at least ends with the sort of grand finale worth re-reading a time or two.” – <em>Locus</em> </p>
<p>“This is good stuff. To write one absorbing he long novel [ <em>The Eye of the World</em> ] is an achievement; to write two is miraculous, and [with <em>The Great Hunt</em> Jordan has] achieved the miracle… I shall certainly [line up] for the third volume.” – <em>Interzone</em> </p>
<p><strong>Praise for</strong> The Wheel of Time <strong>Book One</strong> </p>
<p>The Eye of the World </p>
<p>“New readers are advised to start with the first book, <em>The Eye of the World</em>. It may take you a year of steady reading, but by the next year you’ll be chomping at the bit to jump on the [newest] book.” – Robert Knox, MPG Newspapers </p>
<p>“Robert Jordan writes with the stark vision of light and darkness, and sometimes childlike sense of wonder, that permeates J.R.R Tolkien’s works.”― <em>The Pittsburgh Press</em> </p>
<p>“The Eye of the World is the best of its genre.” – <em>The Ottawa Citizen</em> </p>
<p>“A major piece of fantasy. Jordan has not merely put old wine into new bottles; he has clothed old bones with new flesh.” – <em>Chicago Sun-Times</em> </p>
<p>“Jordan’s world is rich in detail and his plot is rich in incident. Highly recommended.” – <em>ALA Booklist</em> </p>
<p>“A powerful vision of good and evil… [and] fascinating people moving through a rich and interesting world.” – Orson Scott Card </p>
<p>“Magic and pacing and detail and human involvement, with a certain subtlety of presentation and a grand central vision. Robert Jordan… is a lot of writer!”―Piers Anthony </p>
<p>“An exciting story; the reader is drawn in early and kept there until the last page. There is adventure and mystery and dark things that move in the night- a combination of Robin Hood and Stephen King that is hard to resist… Jordan makes the reader care about these characters as though they were old friends.” – <em>Milwaukee Sentinel</em> </p>
<p>“Goodness, life, and light are always in retreat, always about to be defeated, but never quite! Don’t miss it!” – Andrew M. Greeley </p>
<p>“One hell of a story. [It] kept me up past my bedtime for three nights running― and it’s been a long time since a novel’s done <em>that</em>. Jordan keeps the suspense acute and the surprises and invention beautifully paced. Compelling. An exhilarating experience” – <em>Isaac</em> <em>Asimov’s Science Fiction Magazine</em></p>
<h3>From the Back Cover</h3>
<p>The Wheel of Time turns and Ages come and pass. What was, what will be, and what is, may yet fall under the Shadow. For centuries, gleemen have told of The Great Hunt of the Horn. Now the Horn itself is found: the Horn of Valere long thought only legend, the Horn which will raise the dead heroes of the ages. </p>
<p>And it is stolen. </p>
<p>THE WHEEL OF TIME </p>
<p>Book One: <em>The Eye of the World</em><br>Book Two: <em>The Great Hunt</em><br>Book Three: <em>The Dragon Reborn</em><br>Book Four: <em>The Shadow Rising</em><br>Book Five: <em>The Fires of Heaven</em><br>Book Six: <em>Lord of Chaos</em><br>Book Seven: <em>A Crown of Swords</em><br>Book Eight: <em>The Path of Daggers</em><br>Book Nine: <em>Winter's Heart</em><br>Book Ten: <em>Crossroads of Twilight</em></p>
<h3>About the Author</h3>
<p>ROBERT JORDAN (1948-2007) is best known for his internationally bestselling epic fantasy series The Wheel of Time®, which has sold over 40 million copies in North America and is currently being adapted for the screen. A native of Charleston, Jordan graduated from The Citadel, the Military College of South Carolina, with a degree in physics. He served two tours in Vietnam with the U.S. Army and received multiple decorations for his service.</p></div>


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<p>**Soon to be an original series starring Rosamund Pike as Moiraine! </p>
<p>In The Dragon Reborn, the third novel in Robert Jordan’s #1 New York Times bestselling epic fantasy series, The Wheel of Time®, Rand al’Thor undertakes a journey to prove himself worthy of being the Champion of Light.** </p>
<p>Winter has stopped the war―almost―yet men are dying, calling out for the Dragon. But where is he? </p>
<p>Rand al’Thor has been proclaimed the Dragon Reborn. Traveling to the great fortress known as the Stone of Tear, he plans to find the sword Callandor, which can only be wielded by the Champion of Light, and discover if he truly is destined to battle The Dark One. Following Rand, Moiraine and their friends battle Darkhounds on the hunt, hoping they reach the Heart of the Stone in time for the next great test awaiting the Dragon Reborn. </p>
<p>Since its debut in 1990, The Wheel of Time® by Robert Jordan has captivated millions of readers around the globe with its scope, originality, and compelling characters. The last six books in series were all instant #1 New York Times bestsellers, and The Eye of the World was named one of America's best-loved novels by PBS's The Great American Read. </p>
<p><strong>The Wheel of Time</strong> <strong>®</strong><br><em>New Spring: The Novel</em> </p>
<h1>1 <em>The Eye of the World</em></h1>
<h1>2 <em>The Great Hunt</em></h1>
<h1>3 <em>The Dragon Reborn</em></h1>
<h1>4 <em>The Shadow Rising</em></h1>
<h1>5 <em>The Fires of Heaven</em></h1>
<h1>6 <em>Lord of Chaos</em></h1>
<h1>7 <em>A Crown of Swords</em></h1>
<h1>8 <em>The Path of Daggers</em></h1>
<h1>9 <em>Winter's Heart</em></h1>
<h1>10 <em>Crossroads of Twilight</em></h1>
<h1>11 <em>Knife of Dreams</em></h1>
<p style="font-weight: bold">By Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson </p>
<h1>12 <em>The Gathering Storm</em></h1>
<h1>13 <em>Towers of Midnight</em></h1>
<h1>14 <em>A Memory of Light</em></h1>
<p><strong>By Robert Jordan</strong> <br><em>Warrior of the Altaii<br></em><br><strong>By Robert Jordan and Teresa Patterson</strong><br><em>The World of Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time</em> </p>
<p><strong>By Robert Jordan, Harriet McDougal, Alan Romanczuk, and Maria Simons</strong><br><em>The Wheel of Time Companion</em> </p>
<p><strong>By Robert Jordan and</strong> <strong>Amy Romanczuk</strong><br><em>Patterns of the Wheel:</em> <em>Coloring Art Based on Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time</em></p>
<h3>Review</h3>
<p>“An exciting, well-written adventure. Jordan offers distinctive heroes and themes, including an interesting look at relations between the sexes.”― <em>Milwaukee Sentinel</em> </p>
<p>“Jordan’s writing is clear and his vision is fascinating, as are the philosophies which run his characters. And speaking of characters, a more interesting bunch I would be hard put to name… <em>The Dragon Reborn</em> will be one of the books to read this year.” – Seven Sawicki, <em>Science Fiction Review</em> </p>
<p>“Jordan has created a world where everything fits together… his characters follow their own personalities rather than types, and his settings are presented with detail that belief is easy.” <em>– The Herald-Leader</em> , Lexington, Kentucky </p>
<p>“Robert Jordan’s latest book is a fine one, filled with the cleverness, imagination and wonderfully drawn characters expected… Jordan’s skill as a writer doubles the pleasure. … THE DRAGON REBORN is on a higher plane than most fantasy novels.” – <em>The Post and Courier</em> , Charleston, South Carolina </p>
<p>“[ <em>The Wheel of Time</em> ] continues to exhibit a freshness that makes it a welcome addition to any… fantasy collection.” – <em>Library Journal</em> </p>
<p>“A complex tapestry of fascinating characters, descriptive details and events. I highly recommend this series to anyone who loves epic fantasy.” – Carol Lynn Ukockis, <em>Galactic Dispatch</em></p>
<h3>From the Back Cover</h3>
<p>The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass. What was, what will be, and what is, may yet fall under the Shadow. </p>
<p>Rand Al'Thor is the Dragon Reborn-- able to touch the One Power, but unable to control it. Rand knows only that he must face the Dark One in a battle to the death. Ahead of him lies the next great test for... </p>
<p style="font-style: italic">The Dragon Reborn </p>
<p>"Large and splendid. The saga reaches a new level of emotional impact."-- <em>Chicago Sun-Times</em> </p>
<p>"Jordan writes with the stark vision of light and darkness, and sometimes childlike sense of wonder, that permeates J.R.R. Tolkien's works. His style is undeniably his own."-- <em>The Pittsburgh Press</em> </p>
<p>THE WHEEL OF TIME (TM) </p>
<p>Book One: <em>The Eye of the World</em><br>Book Two: <em>The Great Hunt</em><br>Book Three: <em>The Dragon Reborn</em><br>Book Four: <em>The Shadow Rising</em><br>Book Five: <em>The Fires of Heaven</em><br>Book Six: <em>Lord of Chaos</em><br>Book Seven: <em>A Crown of Swords</em><br>Book Eight: <em>The Path of Daggers</em><br>Book Nine: <em>Winter's Heart</em><br>Book Ten: <em>Crossroads of Twilight</em> </p>
<h3>About the Author</h3>
<p>ROBERT JORDAN (1948-2007) is best known for his internationally bestselling epic fantasy series The Wheel of Time®, which has sold over 40 million copies in North America and is currently being adapted for the screen. A native of Charleston, Jordan graduated from The Citadel, the Military College of South Carolina, with a degree in physics. He served two tours in Vietnam with the U.S. Army and received multiple decorations for his service.</p></div>


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<div>
<p>The Wheel of Time **is now an original series on Prime Video, starring Rosamund Pike as Moiraine! </p>
<p>In <strong>The Shadow Rising </strong>, the fourth novel in Robert Jordan’s #1<strong> New York Times </strong>bestselling epic fantasy series, The Wheel of Time®, Rand al’Thor now wields the sword Callandor. He is both the Champion of Light and the Dragon Reborn. Now, he seeks answers to another prophecy that lies with the warrior people known as the Aiel to put him on the path of learning how to wield the One Power.** </p>
<p>Accompanied by Moiraine Damodred, Rand arrives at the Aiel Waste and is granted permission by the Wise Ones to enter the sacred city of Rhuidean. After passing through a doorframe <em>ter'angreal</em> , Moiraine gains foresight while the Aiel await Rand's return, either with both arms marked by dragon symbols, validating his identity as He Who Comes With the Dawn, the Chief of Chiefs of all the Aiel―or to never emerge at all. </p>
<p>Since its debut in 1990, The Wheel of Time® has captivated millions of readers around the globe with its scope, originality, and compelling characters. The last six books in series were all instant #1 <em>New York Times</em> bestsellers, and <em>The Eye of the World</em> was named one of America's best-loved novels by PBS's The Great American Read. </p>
<p><strong>The Wheel of Time®</strong> <strong><br></strong>New Spring: The Novel ** </p>
<h1>1 The Eye of the World </h1>
<h1>2 The Great Hunt </h1>
<h1>3 The Dragon Reborn </h1>
<h1>4 The Shadow Rising </h1>
<h1>5 The Fires of Heaven </h1>
<h1>6 Lord of Chaos </h1>
<h1>7 A Crown of Swords </h1>
<h1>8 The Path of Daggers </h1>
<h1>9 Winter's Heart </h1>
<h1>10 Crossroads of Twilight </h1>
<h1>11 Knife of Dreams </h1>
<p>By Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson<strong> </strong></p>
<h1>12 The Gathering Storm </h1>
<h1>13 Towers of Midnight </h1>
<h1>14 A Memory of Light </h1>
<p>By Robert Jordan and Teresa Patterson<strong> </strong><br><strong>The World of Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time </strong></p>
<p>By Robert Jordan, Harriet McDougal, Alan Romanczuk, and Maria Simons<strong> </strong><br><strong>The Wheel of Time Companion </strong></p>
<p>By Robert Jordan and Amy Romanczuk<strong> </strong><br>**Patterns of the Wheel: Coloring Art Based on Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time</p>
<h3>Review</h3>
<p>“Robert Jordan has come to dominate the world Tolkien began to reveal.” – <em>The New York Times</em> </p>
<p>“The fourth volume of the most ambitious American fantasy saga continues to suggest that <em>The Wheel of Time</em> will also be the finest… This volume, indeed the whole saga, surpasses all but a few of its peers and is highly recommended for all collections.” – <em>ALA Booklist</em> </p>
<p>“Jordan’s multivolume epic continues to live up to its high ambitions… a feast for fantasy aficionados. Expect demand for this.” – <em>Library Journal</em> </p>
<p>“A work of genuine and often stirring imagination.” – <em>Kirkus Review</em> </p>
<p>“This fully imagined saga threatens to burs the seams of its steadily more intricate design… The sheer force of [Jordan’s] invention develops a momentum that [is] hard to resist.” – <em>Publishers Weekly</em> </p>
<p>“This series is so complex, I can’t recommend starting anywhere but at the beginning [ <em>The Eye of the World</em> ], but the volumes only get richer as they go along.” – <em>Locus</em></p>
<h3>About the Author</h3>
<p>ROBERT JORDAN (1948-2007) is best known for his internationally bestselling epic fantasy series The Wheel of Time®, which has sold over 40 million copies in North America and is currently being adapted for the screen. A native of Charleston, Jordan graduated from The Citadel, the Military College of South Carolina, with a degree in physics. He served two tours in Vietnam with the U.S. Army and received multiple decorations for his service.</p></div>


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<div>
<p>The Wheel of Time <strong>is now an original series on Prime Video, starring Rosamund Pike as Moiraine!</strong> </p>
<p><strong>In</strong> The Fires of Heaven <strong>, the fifth novel in Robert Jordan’s #1</strong> New York Times <strong>bestselling epic fantasy series, The Wheel of Time®, four of the most powerful Forsaken band together against the Champion of Light, Rand al’Thor.</strong> </p>
<p>Prophesized to defeat the Dark One, Rand al'Thor, the Dragon Reborn, has upset the balance of power across the land. Shaido Aiel are on the march, ravaging everything in their path. The White Tower's Amyrlin has been deposed, turning the Aes Sedai against one another. The forbidden city of Rhuidean is overrun by Shadowspawn. </p>
<p>Despite the chaos swirling around him, Rand continues to learn how to harness his abilities, determined to wield the One Power--and ignoring the counsel of Moiraine Damodred at great cost. </p>
<p>Since its debut in 1990, The Wheel of Time® by Robert Jordan has captivated millions of readers around the globe with its scope, originality, and compelling characters. The last six books in series were all instant #1 <em>New York Times</em> bestsellers, and <em>The Eye of the World</em> was named one of America's best-loved novels by PBS's The Great American Read. </p>
<p><strong>The Wheel of Time®</strong> <strong><br></strong>New Spring: The Novel ** </p>
<h1>1 The Eye of the World </h1>
<h1>2 The Great Hunt </h1>
<h1>3 The Dragon Reborn </h1>
<h1>4 The Shadow Rising </h1>
<h1>5 The Fires of Heaven </h1>
<h1>6 Lord of Chaos </h1>
<h1>7 A Crown of Swords </h1>
<h1>8 The Path of Daggers </h1>
<h1>9 Winter's Heart </h1>
<h1>10 Crossroads of Twilight </h1>
<h1>11 Knife of Dreams </h1>
<p>By Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson<strong> </strong></p>
<h1>12 The Gathering Storm </h1>
<h1>13 Towers of Midnight </h1>
<h1>14 A Memory of Light </h1>
<p>By Robert Jordan and Teresa Patterson<strong> </strong><br><strong>The World of Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time </strong></p>
<p>By Robert Jordan, Harriet McDougal, Alan Romanczuk, and Maria Simons<strong> </strong><br><strong>The Wheel of Time Companion </strong></p>
<p>By Robert Jordan and Amy Romanczuk<strong> </strong><br>**Patterns of the Wheel: Coloring Art Based on Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time</p>
<h3>Review</h3>
<p><strong>Praise for Robert Jordan’s The Wheel of Time<br></strong><br>“Jordan’s multivolume epic [is] a feast for fantasy aficionados.” – Library Journal </p>
<p><strong>Book One: THE EYE OF THE WORLD<br></strong><br>“New readers are advised to start with the first book, <em>The Eye of the World</em>. It may take you a year of steady reading, but by the next year you’ll be chomping at the bit to jump on the [newest] book.” – Robert Knox, MPG Newspapers </p>
<p><strong>Book Two: THE GREAT HUNT<br></strong><br>“On very rare occasions, very talented storytellers create worlds that are beyond fantasy; worlds that become realities. Robert Jordan has.” – Morgan Llywelyn, author of <em>Lion of Ireland</em> and <em>Druids<br></em><br><strong>Book Three: THE DRAGON REBORN<br></strong><br>“One of <em>the</em> books to read this year.” – <em>Science Fiction Review<br></em><br><strong>Book Four: THE SHADOW RISING<br></strong><br>“The fourth volume of the most ambitious American fantasy saga continues to suggest <em>that The Wheel of Time</em> will also be the finest.” – <em>Booklist<br></em><br><strong>Book Five: THE FIRES OF HEAVEN<br></strong><br>“Rich and Enthralling.” – <em>Locus</em></p>
<h3>About the Author</h3>
<p>ROBERT JORDAN (1948-2007) is best known for his internationally bestselling epic fantasy series The Wheel of Time®, which has sold over 40 million copies in North America and is currently being adapted for the screen. A native of Charleston, Jordan graduated from The Citadel, the Military College of South Carolina, with a degree in physics. He served two tours in Vietnam with the U.S. Army and received multiple decorations for his service.</p></div>


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<div>
<p>The Wheel of Time <strong>is now an original series on Prime Video, starring Rosamund Pike as Moiraine!</strong> </p>
<p><strong>In</strong> Lord of Chaos <strong>, the sixth novel in Robert Jordan’s #1</strong> New York Times <strong>bestselling epic fantasy series, The Wheel of Time®, Rand al’Thor, the Dragon Reborn, builds his army of Light even as sworn enemies--and supposed allies--move against him.</strong> </p>
<p>Now ruling Tear, Andor, and Caemlyn, among other nations, Rand is recruiting all men capable of channeling to be trained as his Asha'man soldiers. The warrior Aiel clans have pledged loyalty to Rand, acknowledging him as their chief of chiefs, even though the Shaido Aiel remain a threat. </p>
<p>Split into two factions, the Aes Sedai of the White Tower and their rebel counterparts both seek to ally themselves with the Dragon Reborn. Rand knows all too well the manipulative nature of the Aes Sedai, no matter which side of their internal war they stand upon. But even he cannot predict just how desperate, cruel, and treacherous they can be. </p>
<p>And in the shadows, the Forsaken and the Dark One are conjuring even more chaos... </p>
<p>Since its debut in 1990, The Wheel of Time® by Robert Jordan has captivated millions of readers around the globe with its scope, originality, and compelling characters. The last six books in series were all instant #1 <em>New York Times</em> bestsellers, and <em>The Eye of the World</em> was named one of America's best-loved novels by PBS's The Great American Read. </p>
<p><strong>The Wheel of Time®</strong> <strong><br></strong>New Spring: The Novel ** </p>
<h1>1 The Eye of the World </h1>
<h1>2 The Great Hunt </h1>
<h1>3 The Dragon Reborn </h1>
<h1>4 The Shadow Rising </h1>
<h1>5 The Fires of Heaven </h1>
<h1>6 Lord of Chaos </h1>
<h1>7 A Crown of Swords </h1>
<h1>8 The Path of Daggers </h1>
<h1>9 Winter's Heart </h1>
<h1>10 Crossroads of Twilight </h1>
<h1>11 Knife of Dreams </h1>
<p>By Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson<strong> </strong></p>
<h1>12 The Gathering Storm </h1>
<h1>13 Towers of Midnight </h1>
<h1>14 A Memory of Light </h1>
<p>By Robert Jordan and Teresa Patterson<strong> </strong><br><strong>The World of Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time </strong></p>
<p>By Robert Jordan, Harriet McDougal, Alan Romanczuk, and Maria Simons<strong> </strong><br><strong>The Wheel of Time Companion </strong></p>
<p>By Robert Jordan and Amy Romanczuk<strong> </strong><br>**Patterns of the Wheel: Coloring Art Based on Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time</p>
<h3>Review</h3>
<p><strong>Praise for</strong> The Wheel of Time </p>
<p>“The Wheel of Time [is] rapidly becoming the definitive American fantasy saga. It is a fantasy tale seldom equaled and still less often surpassed in English.” – <em>Chicago Sun-Times</em> </p>
<p>“Jordan’s multi-volume epic [is] a feast for fantasy aficionados.” – <em>Library Journal</em> </p>
<p>“The most ambitious American fantasy saga… [may] also be the finest.” – <em>Booklist</em> </p>
<p>“For those who like to keep themselves in a fantasy world, it’s hard to beat the complex, detailed world created here.” – <em>Locus</em> </p>
<p><strong>Book Six:</strong> Lord of Chaos </p>
<p>“Jordan’s talent for sustaining the difficult combination of suspense and resolution, so necessary in a multi-volume series such as this one, is nothing short of remarkable.” – <em>Library Journal</em> </p>
<p>“A great read… Some surprising new developments… A spectacular kidnapping and rescue bring this volume to a (temporarily) satisfying conclusion. This series is so complex, I Can’t recommend starting anywhere but at the beginning, but the volumes only get richer as they go along.” – <em>Locus</em></p>
<h3>About the Author</h3>
<p>ROBERT JORDAN (1948-2007) is best known for his internationally bestselling epic fantasy series The Wheel of Time®, which has sold over 40 million copies in North America and is currently being adapted for the screen. A native of Charleston, Jordan graduated from The Citadel, the Military College of South Carolina, with a degree in physics. He served two tours in Vietnam with the U.S. Army and received multiple decorations for his service.</p></div>


text:
<div>
<p>The Wheel of Time <strong>is now an original series on Prime Video, starring Rosamund Pike as Moiraine!</strong> </p>
<p>Since its debut in 1990, The Wheel of Time® by Robert Jordan has captivated millions of readers around the globe with its scope, originality, and compelling characters. </p>
<p>The Wheel of Time turns and Ages come and go, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth returns again. In the Third Age, an Age of Prophecy, the World and Time themselves hang in the balance. What was, what will be, and what is, may yet fall under the Shadow. </p>
<p>Elayne, Aviendha, and Mat come ever closer to the bowl ter'angreal that may reverse the world's endless heat wave and restore natural weather. Egwene begins to gather all manner of women who can channel--Sea Folk, Windfinders, Wise Ones, and some surprising others. And above all, Rand faces the dread Forsaken Sammael, in the shadows of Shadar Logoth, where the blood-hungry mist, Mashadar, waits for prey. </p>
<p><strong>The Wheel of Time®</strong> <strong><br></strong>New Spring: The Novel ** </p>
<h1>1 The Eye of the World </h1>
<h1>2 The Great Hunt </h1>
<h1>3 The Dragon Reborn </h1>
<h1>4 The Shadow Rising </h1>
<h1>5 The Fires of Heaven </h1>
<h1>6 Lord of Chaos </h1>
<h1>7 A Crown of Swords </h1>
<h1>8 The Path of Daggers </h1>
<h1>9 Winter's Heart </h1>
<h1>10 Crossroads of Twilight </h1>
<h1>11 Knife of Dreams </h1>
<p>By Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson<strong> </strong></p>
<h1>12 The Gathering Storm </h1>
<h1>13 Towers of Midnight </h1>
<h1>14 A Memory of Light </h1>
<p>By Robert Jordan and Teresa Patterson<strong> </strong><br><strong>The World of Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time </strong></p>
<p>By Robert Jordan, Harriet McDougal, Alan Romanczuk, and Maria Simons<strong> </strong><br><strong>The Wheel of Time Companion </strong></p>
<p>By Robert Jordan and Amy Romanczuk<strong> </strong><br>**Patterns of the Wheel: Coloring Art Based on Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time</p>
<h3>Review</h3>
<p style="font-weight: bold">Praise for Robert Jordan </p>
<p>“His writing is distinguished as literature by the richness of its fabric, with all the charm and naïveté of the Brothers Grimm and the social/moral commentary of Huxley’s Brave New World. With his well fleshed out characters, dark imagery, comic relief, vivid landscapes, and a fascinating sense of timelessness, Jordan has created a complex literature with a language and reality all of its own.” – Brewster Milton Robertson, <em>Myrtle Beach Sun-News</em> </p>
<p><strong>Praise for</strong> The Wheel of Time </p>
<p>“The Wheel of Time [is] rapidly becoming the definitive American fantasy saga. It is a fantasy ale seldom equaled and still less often surpassed in English.” – <em>Chicago Sun-Times</em> </p>
<p>“Jordan’s multi-volume epic [is] a feast for fantasy aficionados.” – <em>Library Journal</em> </p>
<p>“For those who like to keep themselves in a fantasy world, it’s hard to beat the complex, detailed world created here.” – <em>Locus</em> </p>
<p><strong>Praise for</strong> A Crown of Swords </p>
<p>“The seventh volume of Jordan’s bestselling high fantasy series carries on the colossal, dauntingly complex storytelling established by the previous entries… Fans of the series will gobble down this generous addition.” – <em>Publishers Weekly</em> (starred review) </p>
<p>“In the long-awaited sequel to the bestselling Lord of Chaos, Jordan returns to the [same] complex, detailed fantasy world… Highly recommended…” – <em>Library Journal</em> </p>
<p>“In the seventh volume of Jordan’s preeminent high fantasy saga, intrigue and counter-intrigue continue to roil… This latest installment of a major fantasy epic definitely will not disappoint its fans.” -- <em>Booklist</em></p>
<h3>From the Back Cover</h3>
<p>The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass. What was, what will be, and what is, may yet fall under the Shadow. <em>Let the Dragon ride again on the winds of time.</em> </p>
<p>THE WHEEL OF TIME </p>
<p>Book One: <em>The Eye of the World</em><br>Book Two: <em>The Great Hunt</em><br>Book Three: <em>The Dragon Reborn</em><br>Book Four: <em>The Shadow Rising</em><br>Book Five: <em>The Fires of Heaven</em><br>Book Six: <em>Lord of Chaos</em><br>Book Seven: <em>A Crown of Swords</em><br>Book Eight: <em>The Path of Daggers</em><br>Book Nine: <em>Winter's Heart</em><br>Book Ten: <em>Crossroads of Twilight</em></p>
<h3>About the Author</h3>
<p>ROBERT JORDAN (1948-2007) is best known for his internationally bestselling epic fantasy series The Wheel of Time®, which has sold over 40 million copies in North America and is currently being adapted for the screen. A native of Charleston, Jordan graduated from The Citadel, the Military College of South Carolina, with a degree in physics. He served two tours in Vietnam with the U.S. Army and received multiple decorations for his service.</p></div>


text:
<div>
<p>The Wheel of Time <strong>is now an original series on Prime Video, starring Rosamund Pike as Moiraine!</strong> </p>
<p>Since its debut in 1990, The Wheel of Time® by Robert Jordan has captivated millions of readers around the globe with its scope, originality, and compelling characters. </p>
<p>The Wheel of Time turns and Ages come and go, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth returns again. In the Third Age, an Age of Prophecy, the World and Time themselves hang in the balance. What was, what will be, and what is, may yet fall under the Shadow. </p>
<p>The Seanchan invasion force is in possession of Ebou Dar. Nynaeve, Elayne, and Aviendha head for Caemlyn and Elayne's rightful throne, but on the way they discover an enemy much worse than the Seanchan. </p>
<p>In Illian, Rand vows to throw the Seanchan back as he did once before. But signs of madness are appearing among the Asha'man. </p>
<p>In Ghealdan, Perrin faces the intrigues of Whitecloaks, Seanchan invaders, the scattered Shaido Aiel, and the Prophet himself. Perrin's beloved wife, Faile, may pay with her life, and Perrin himself may have to destroy his soul to save her. </p>
<p>Meanwhile the rebel Aes Sedai under their young Amyrlin, Egwene al'Vere, face an army that intends to keep them away from the White Tower. But Egwene is determined to unseat the usurper Elaida and reunite the Aes Sedai. She does not yet understand the price that others--and she herself--will pay. </p>
<p><strong>The Wheel of Time®</strong> <strong><br></strong>New Spring: The Novel ** </p>
<h1>1 The Eye of the World </h1>
<h1>2 The Great Hunt </h1>
<h1>3 The Dragon Reborn </h1>
<h1>4 The Shadow Rising </h1>
<h1>5 The Fires of Heaven </h1>
<h1>6 Lord of Chaos </h1>
<h1>7 A Crown of Swords </h1>
<h1>8 The Path of Daggers </h1>
<h1>9 Winter's Heart </h1>
<h1>10 Crossroads of Twilight </h1>
<h1>11 Knife of Dreams </h1>
<p>By Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson<strong> </strong></p>
<h1>12 The Gathering Storm </h1>
<h1>13 Towers of Midnight </h1>
<h1>14 A Memory of Light </h1>
<p>By Robert Jordan and Teresa Patterson<strong> </strong><br><strong>The World of Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time </strong></p>
<p>By Robert Jordan, Harriet McDougal, Alan Romanczuk, and Maria Simons<strong> </strong><br><strong>The Wheel of Time Companion </strong></p>
<p>By Robert Jordan and Amy Romanczuk<strong> </strong><br>**Patterns of the Wheel: Coloring Art Based on Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time</p>
<h3>Review</h3>
<p>Praise for Robert Jordan and The Wheel of Time® </p>
<p>“His huge, ambitious Wheel of Time series helped redefine the genre.” ―George R. R. Martin, author of <em>A Game of Thrones</em> </p>
<p>“Anyone who’s writing epic of secondary world fantasy knows Robert Jordan isn’t just a part of the landscape, he’s a monolith within the landscape.” ―Patrick Rothfuss, author of the Kingkiller Chronicle series </p>
<p>“The Eye of the World was a turning point in my life. I read, I enjoyed. (Then continued on to write my larger fantasy novels.)” ―Robin Hobb, author of the award-winning Realm of the Elderlings series </p>
<p>“Robert Jordan's work has been a formative influence and an inspiration for a generation of fantasy writers.” ―Brent Weeks, <em>New York Times</em> bestselling author of <em>The Way of Shadows</em> </p>
<p>“Jordan’s writing is so amazing! The characterization, the attention to detail!” ―Clint McElroy, co-creator of the #1 podcast <em>The Adventure Zone</em> </p>
<p>“[Robert Jordan's] impact on the place of fantasy in the culture is colossal... He brought innumerable readers to fantasy. He became the New York Times bestseller list face of fantasy.” ―Guy Gavriel Kay, author of <em>A Brightness Long Ago</em> </p>
<p>“Robert Jordan was a giant of fiction whose words helped a whole generation of fantasy writers, including myself, find our true voices. I thanked him then, but I didn’t thank him enough.” ―Peter V. Brett, internationally bestselling author of The Demon Cycle series </p>
<p>“I don’t know anybody who’s been as formative in crafting me as a writer as [Robert Jordan], and for that I will be forever grateful.” ―Tochi Onyebuchi, author of <em>Riot Baby</em> and <em>War Girls</em> </p>
<p>“I’ve mostly never been involved in any particular fandom, the one exception of course was The Wheel of Time.” ―Marie Brennan, author of the Memoirs of Lady Trent series </p>
<p>“I owe Robert Jordan so much. Without him, modern fantasy would be bereft of the expansive, deep worlds and the giant casts which I love so dearly. It's not often I can look at another author and say: that person paved my way. But such is exactly the case with Jordan.” ―Jenn Lyons, author of <em>The Ruin of Kings</em> </p>
<p>“You can't talk about epic fantasy without acknowledging the titanic influence Robert Jordan has had on the grenre.” ―Jason Denzel, author of <em>Mystic</em> and founder of Dragonmount.com </p>
<p>“Jordan has come to dominate the world Tolkien began to reveal.” ― <em>The New York Times</em> </p>
<p>“The Wheel of Time [is] rapidly becoming the definitive American fantasy saga. It is a fantasy tale seldom equaled and still less often surpassed in English.” ― <em>Chicago Sun-Times</em> </p>
<p>“Hard to put down for even a moment. A fittingly epic conclusion to a fantasy series that many consider one of the best of all time.” ― <em>San Francisco Book Review</em> </p>
<p>“The most ambitious American fantasy saga [may] also be the finest. Rich in detail and his plot is rich in incident. Impressive work, and highly recommended.” ― <em>Booklist</em> </p>
<p>“Recalls the work of Tolkien.” ― <em>Publishers Weekly</em> </p>
<p>“This richly detailed fantasy presents fully realized, complex adventure. Recommended.” ― <em>Library Journal</em> </p>
<p>“Jordan has come to dominate the world that Tolkien began to reveal.” ― <em>The New York Times</em> </p>
<p>“Jordan is able to take ... familiar elements and make them his own, in a powerful novel of wide and complex scope. Open religious and political conflicts add a gritty realism, while the cities and courts provide plenty of drama and splendor. Women have a stronger role than in Tolkien.... Each character in this large cast remains distinct.... Their adventures are varied, and exciting.... <em>The Eye of the World</em> stands alone as a fantasy epic.” ― <em>Locus</em> </p>
<p>“Robert Jordan has created a fantasy world as tangible and credible as history. He has a fine eye for detail and a vivid sense of drama.” ― <em>Morgan Llewelyn</em> </p>
<p>“Robert Jordan's <em>The Eye of the World</em> proves that there's still plenty of life in the ancient tradition of epic fantasy. Jordan has a powerful vision of good and evil-- but what strikes me as most pleasurable about <em>The Eye of the World</em> is all the fascinating people moving through a rich and interesting world.” ― <em>Orson Scott Card</em> </p>
<p>“Jordan's world is rich in detail and his plot is rich in incident. Impressive work, and highly recommended.” ― <em>ALA Booklist</em></p>
<h3>From the Back Cover</h3>
<p>"Robert Jordan has come to dominate the world Tolkien began to reveal."-- <em>The New York Times</em> </p>
<p>The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass. What was, what will be, and what is, may yet fall under the Shadow. <em>Let the Dragon ride again on the winds of time.</em> </p>
<p>THE WHEEL OF TIME </p>
<p>Book One: <em>The Eye of the World</em><br>Book Two: <em>The Great Hunt</em><br>Book Three: <em>The Dragon Reborn</em><br>Book Four: <em>The Shadow Rising</em><br>Book Five: <em>The Fires of Heaven</em><br>Book Six: <em>Lord of Chaos</em><br>Book Seven: <em>A Crown of Swords</em><br>Book Eight: <em>The Path of Daggers</em><br>Book Nine: <em>Winter's Heart</em><br>Book Ten: <em>Crossroads of Twilight</em></p>
<h3>About the Author</h3>
<p>ROBERT JORDAN (1948-2007) is best known for his internationally bestselling epic fantasy series The Wheel of Time®, which has sold over 40 million copies in North America and is currently being adapted for the screen. A native of Charleston, Jordan graduated from The Citadel, the Military College of South Carolina, with a degree in physics. He served two tours in Vietnam with the U.S. Army and received multiple decorations for his service.</p></div>


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<p>The Wheel of Time is now an original series on Prime Video, starring Rosamund Pike as Moiraine! In Winter's Heart, the ninth novel in Robert Jordan’s #1 New York Times bestselling epic fantasy series, The Wheel of Time®, Rand al'Thor and his friends face personal trials in their quests to build alliances against the Dark One. </p>
<p>After locating Masema Dagar, the Prophet of the Dragon, on Rand’s behalf, Perrin Aybara returns to his encampment to discover his wife Faile has been abducted by the Shaido Aiel. Determined to reclaim her, Perrin forgoes his mission, risking his army in pursuit of a dangerous and unpredictable enemy. </p>
<p>Wounded and trapped in the Seanchan-occupied city of Ebou Dar, Mat Cauthon is awaiting an opportunity to leave. But he is not the only one in hiding. Three Aes Sedai are desperate to escape. As Mat seeks a way to smuggle them all out of the city, he encounters his own prophesized fate when he meets the Daughter of the Nine Moons. </p>
<p>Rand himself is on a mission of vengeance. He has tracked the traitorous Asha’man who tried to kill him to Far Madding. It is a city where no one is capable of channeling the One Power, leaving Rand vulnerable to those who would stop at nothing to destroy the Dragon Reborn...Since its debut in 1990, The Wheel of Time® by Robert Jordan has captivated millions of readers around the globe with its scope, originality, and compelling characters. The last six books in series were all instant #1 New York Times bestsellers, and The Eye of the World was named one of America's best-loved novels by PBS's The Great American Read. </p>
<p>The Wheel of Time®New Spring: The Novel#1 The Eye of the World#2 The Great Hunt#3 The Dragon Reborn#4 The Shadow Rising#5 The Fires of Heaven#6 Lord of Chaos#7 A Crown of Swords#8 The Path of Daggers#9 Winter's Heart#10 Crossroads of Twilight#11 Knife of DreamsBy Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson#12 The Gathering Storm#13 Towers of Midnight#14 A Memory of LightBy Robert Jordan and Teresa PattersonThe World of Robert Jordan's The Wheel of TimeBy Robert Jordan, Harriet McDougal, Alan Romanczuk, and Maria SimonsThe Wheel of Time CompanionBy Robert Jordan and Amy RomanczukPatterns of the Wheel: Coloring Art Based on Robert Jordan's The Wheel of TimeAt the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.</p></div>


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<p>The Wheel of Time ® is a PBS Great American Read Selection! Now in development for TV! Since its debut in 1990, The Wheel of Time® by Robert Jordan has captivated millions of readers around the globe with its scope, originality, and compelling characters. </p>
<p>The Wheel of Time turns and Ages come and go, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth returns again. In the Third Age, an Age of Prophecy, the World and Time themselves hang in the balance. What was, what will be, and what is, may yet fall under the Shadow. </p>
<p>Fleeing from Ebou Dar with the kidnapped Daughter of the Nine Moons, whom he is fated to marry, Mat Cauthon learns that he can neither keep her nor let her go, not in safety for either of them, for both the Shadow and the might of the Seanchan Empire are in deadly pursuit. </p>
<p>Perrin Aybara seeks to free his wife, Faile, a captive of the Shaido, but his only hope may be an alliance with the enemy. Can he remain true to his friend Rand and to himself? For his love of Faile, Perrin is willing to sell his soul. </p>
<p>At Tar Valon, Egwene al'Vere, the young Amyrlin of the rebel Aes Sedai, lays siege to the heart of Aes Sedai power, but she must win quickly, with as little bloodshed as possible, for unless the Aes Sedai are reunited, only the male Asha'man will remain to defend the world against the Dark One, and nothing can hold the Asha'man themselves back from total power except the Aes Sedai and a unified White Tower. </p>
<p>In Andor, Elayne Trakland fights for the Lion Throne that is hers by right, but enemies and Darkfriends surround her, plotting her destruction. If she fails, Andor may fall to the Shadow, and the Dragon Reborn with it. </p>
<p>Rand al'Thor, the Dragon Reborn himself, has cleansed the Dark One's taint from the male half of the True Source, and everything has changed. Yet nothing has, for only men who can channel believe that saidin is clean again, and a man who can channel is still hated and feared-even one prophesied to save the world. Now, Rand must gamble again, with himself at stake, and he cannot be sure which of his allies are really enemies. </p>
<p>TV series update: "Sony will produce along with Red Eagle Entertainment and Radar Pictures. Rafe Judkins is attached to write and executive produce. Judkins previously worked on shows such as ABC’s “Agents of SHIELD,” the Netflix series “Hemlock Grove,” and the NBC series “Chuck.” Red Eagle partners Rick Selvage and Larry Mondragon will executive produce along with Radar’s Ted Field and Mike Weber. Darren Lemke will also executive produce, with Jordan’s widow Harriet McDougal serving as consulting producer. </p>
<p>" —VarietyThe Wheel of Time®New Spring: The Novel#1 The Eye of the World#2 The Great Hunt#3 The Dragon Reborn#4 The Shadow Rising#5 The Fires of Heaven#6 Lord of Chaos#7 A Crown of Swords#8 The Path of Daggers#9 Winter's Heart#10 Crossroads of Twilight#11 Knife of DreamsBy Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson#12 The Gathering Storm#13 Towers of Midnight#14 A Memory of LightBy Robert Jordan Warrior of the AltaiiBy Robert Jordan and Teresa PattersonThe World of Robert Jordan's The Wheel of TimeBy Robert Jordan, Harriet McDougal, Alan Romanczuk, and Maria SimonsThe Wheel of Time CompanionBy Robert Jordan and Amy RomanczukPatterns of the Wheel: Coloring Art Based on Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time</p></div>


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<p>The Wheel of Time turns, and Robert Jordan gives us the eleventh volume of his extraordinary masterwork of fantasy.<br>The dead are walking, men die impossible deaths, and it seems as though reality itself has become unstable: All are signs of the imminence of Tarmon Gai'don, the Last Battle, when Rand al'Thor, the Dragon Reborn, must confront the Dark One as humanity's only hope. But Rand dares not fight until he possesses all the surviving seals on the Dark One's prison and has dealt with the Seanchan, who threaten to overrun all nations this side of the Aryth Ocean and increasingly seem too entrenched to be fought off. But his attempt to make a truce with the Seanchan is shadowed by treachery that may cost him everything. Whatever the price, though, he must have that truce. And he faces other dangers. There are those among the Forsaken who will go to any length to see him dead--and the Black Ajah is at his side....<br>Unbeknownst to Rand, Perrin has made his own truce with the Seanchan. It is a deal made with the Dark One, in his eyes, but he will do whatever is needed to rescue his wife, Faile, and destroy the Shaido who captured her. Among the Shaido, Faile works to free herself while hiding a secret that might give her her freedom or cause her destruction. And at a town called Malden, the Two Rivers longbow will be matched against Shaido spears.<br>Fleeing Ebou Dar through Seanchan-controlled Altara with the kidnapped Daughter of the Nine Moons, Mat attempts to court the woman to whom he is half-married, knowing that she will complete that ceremony eventually. But Tuon coolly leads him on a merry chase as he learns that even a gift can have deep significance among the Seanchan Blood and what he thinks he knows of women is not enough to save him. For reasons of her own, which she will not reveal until a time of her choosing, she has pledged not to escape, but Mat still sweats whenever there are Seanchan soldiers near. Then he learns that Tuon herself is in deadly danger from those very soldiers. To get her to safety, he must do what he hates worse than work....<br>In Caemlyn, Elayne fights to gain the Lion Throne while trying to avert what seems a certain civil war should she win the crown....<br>In the White Tower, Egwene struggles to undermine the sisters loyal to Elaida from within....<br>The winds of time have become a storm, and things that everyone believes are fixed in place forever are changing before their eyes. Even the White Tower itself is no longer a place of safety. Now Rand, Perrin and Mat, Egwene and Elayne, Nynaeve and Lan, and even Loial, must ride those storm winds, or the Dark One will triumph. </p>
<p>At the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.</p></div>


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<p>The Wheel of Time is now an original series on Prime Video, starring Rosamund Pike as Moiraine! With Robert Jordan’s untimely passing in 2007, Brandon Sanderson, the New York Times bestselling author of the Mistborn novels and the Stormlight Archive, was chosen by Jordan’s editor—his wife, Harriet McDougal—to complete the final volume in The Wheel of Time®, later expanded to three books. </p>
<p>The Gathering Storm, the twelfth novel in Jordan’s #1 New York Times bestselling epic fantasy series, begins the story’s dramatic conclusion as Rand al'Thor, the Dragon Reborn, struggles to unite a fractured network of kingdoms and alliances in preparation for the Last Battle. </p>
<p>War is coming. The Dark One’s forces are brutal and unrelenting. Rand must forge a united front, but the Seanchan remain an immediate threat, as do the Forsaken. With so many shadows swirling around him, Rand is consumed by his responsibilities, turning heartless in the eyes of his allies, and even more merciless to his enemies. </p>
<p>Meanwhile the Seanchan march on the White Tower, where Egwene al'Vere works to rally the disparate factions of the Aes Sedai together, even as their tyrannical leader schemes against her. Providing leadership in the face of increasing uncertainty and despair, Egwene’s fight will prove the mettle of the Aes Sedai, and her conflict will decide the future of the White Tower—and possibly the world itself. </p>
<p>Since its debut in 1990, The Wheel of Time® by Robert Jordan has captivated millions of readers around the globe with its scope, originality, and compelling characters. The last six books in series were all instant #1 New York Times bestsellers, and The Eye of the World was named one of America's best-loved novels by PBS's The Great American Read. </p>
<p>The Wheel of Time®New Spring: The Novel#1 The Eye of the World#2 The Great Hunt#3 The Dragon Reborn#4 The Shadow Rising#5 The Fires of Heaven#6 Lord of Chaos#7 A Crown of Swords#8 The Path of Daggers#9 Winter's Heart#10 Crossroads of Twilight#11 Knife of DreamsBy Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson#12 The Gathering Storm#13 Towers of Midnight#14 A Memory of LightBy Robert Jordan and Teresa PattersonThe World of Robert Jordan's The Wheel of TimeBy Robert Jordan, Harriet McDougal, Alan Romanczuk, and Maria SimonsThe Wheel of Time CompanionBy Robert Jordan and Amy RomanczukPatterns of the Wheel: Coloring Art Based on Robert Jordan's The Wheel of TimeAt the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.</p></div>


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<p>The Wheel of Time <strong>is now an original series on Prime Video, starring Rosamund Pike as Moiraine!</strong> </p>
<p>Since its debut in 1990, The Wheel of Time® by Robert Jordan has captivated millions of readers around the globe with its scope, originality, and compelling characters. </p>
<p>In <em>Towers of Midnight</em> , the Last Battle has started. The seals on the Dark One's prison are crumbling. The Pattern itself is unraveling, and the armies of the Shadow have begun to boil out of the Blight. </p>
<p>The sun has begun to set upon the Third Age. </p>
<p>Perrin Aybara is now hunted by specters from his past: Whitecloaks, a slayer of wolves, and the responsibilities of leadership. All the while, an unseen foe is slowly pulling a noose tight around his neck. To prevail, he must seek answers in Tel'aran'rhiod and find a way--at long last--to master the wolf within him or lose himself to it forever. </p>
<p>Meanwhile, Matrim Cauthon prepares for the most difficult challenge of his life. The creatures beyond the stone gateways--the Aelfinn and the Eelfinn--have confused him, taunted him, and left him hanged, his memory stuffed with bits and pieces of other men's lives. He had hoped that his last confrontation with them would be the end of it, but the Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills. The time is coming when he will again have to dance with the Snakes and the Foxes, playing a game that cannot be won. The Tower of Ghenjei awaits, and its secrets will reveal the fate of a friend long lost. </p>
<p><em>Dovie'andi se tovya sagain</em>. It's time to toss the dice. </p>
<p><strong>The Wheel of Time®</strong> <strong><br></strong>New Spring: The Novel ** </p>
<h1>1 The Eye of the World </h1>
<h1>2 The Great Hunt </h1>
<h1>3 The Dragon Reborn </h1>
<h1>4 The Shadow Rising </h1>
<h1>5 The Fires of Heaven </h1>
<h1>6 Lord of Chaos </h1>
<h1>7 A Crown of Swords </h1>
<h1>8 The Path of Daggers </h1>
<h1>9 Winter's Heart </h1>
<h1>10 Crossroads of Twilight </h1>
<h1>11 Knife of Dreams </h1>
<p>By Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson<strong> </strong></p>
<h1>12 The Gathering Storm </h1>
<h1>13 Towers of Midnight </h1>
<h1>14 A Memory of Light </h1>
<p>By Robert Jordan and Teresa Patterson<strong> </strong><br><strong>The World of Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time </strong></p>
<p>By Robert Jordan, Harriet McDougal, Alan Romanczuk, and Maria Simons<strong> </strong><br><strong>The Wheel of Time Companion </strong></p>
<p>By Robert Jordan and Amy Romanczuk<strong> </strong><br>**Patterns of the Wheel: Coloring Art Based on Robert Jordan's The Wheel of Time</p></div>


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<p>The Wheel of Time turns and Ages come and go, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth returns again. In the Third Age, an Age of Prophecy, the World and Time themselves hang in the balance. What was, what will be, and what is, may yet fall under the Shadow. </p>
<p>When Robert Jordan died in 2007, all feared that these concluding scenes would never be written. But working from notes and partials left by Jordan, established fantasy writer Brandon Sanderson stepped in to complete the masterwork. With The Gathering Storm (Book 12) and Towers of Midnight (Book 13) behind him, Sanderson now re-creates the vision that Robert Jordan left behind. </p>
<p>Edited by Jordan's widow, who edited all of Jordan's books, A Memory of Light will delight, enthrall, and deeply satisfy all of Jordan's legions of readers. </p>
<p>The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass.<br>What was, what will be, and what is,<br>may yet fall under the Shadow.<br>Let the Dragon ride again on the winds of time.</p></div>


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<p>Vast legions of gods, mages, humans, dragons and all manner of creatures play out the fate of the Malazan Empire in this first book in a major epic fantasy series from Steven Erikson. </p>
<p>The Malazan Empire simmers with discontent, bled dry by interminable warfare, bitter infighting and bloody confrontations with the formidable Anomander Rake and his Tiste Andii, ancient and implacable sorcerers. Even the imperial legions, long inured to the bloodshed, yearn for some respite. Yet Empress Laseen's rule remains absolute, enforced by her dread Claw assassins. For Sergeant Whiskeyjack and his squad of Bridgeburners, and for Tattersail, surviving cadre mage of the Second Legion, the aftermath of the siege of Pale should have been a time to mourn the many dead. But Darujhistan, last of the Free Cities of Genabackis, yet holds out. It is to this ancient citadel that Laseen turns her predatory gaze. However, it would appear that the Empire is not alone in this great game. Sinister, shadowbound forces are gathering as the gods themselves prepare to play their hand... Conceived and written on a panoramic scale, Gardens of the Moon is epic fantasy of the highest order--an enthralling adventure by an outstanding new voice. </p>
<p>At the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.</p></div>


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<p>The second novel in the awe-inspiring Malazan Book of the Fallen series. "Gripping, fast-moving, delightfully dark, with a masterful and unapologetic brutality reminiscent of George R. R. Martin. </p>
<p>" -- Elizabeth HaydonIn the vast dominion of Seven Cities, in the Holy Desert Raraku, the seer Sha'ik and her followers prepare for the long-prophesied uprising known as the Whirlwind. Unprecedented in size and savagery, this maelstrom of fanaticism and bloodlust will embroil the Malazan Empire in one of the bloodiest conflicts it has ever known, shaping destinies and giving birth to legends . . . Set in a brilliantly realized world ravaged by dark, uncontrollable magic, Deadhouse Gates is a novel of war, intrigue and betrayal confirms Steven Eirkson as a storyteller of breathtaking skill, imagination and originality--a new master of epic fantasy. </p>
<p>At the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.</p></div>


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<p><strong>Marking the return of many characters from</strong> Gardens of the Moon <strong>and introducing a host of remarkable new players,</strong> Memories of Ice <strong>is both a momentous new chapter in Steven Erikson's magnificent epic fantasy and a triumph of storytelling.<br></strong><br>The ravaged continent of Genabackis has given birth to a terrifying new empire: the Pannion Domin. Like a tide of corrupted blood, it seethes across the land, devouring all. In its path stands an uneasy alliance: Onearm's army and Whiskeyjack's Bridgeburners alongside their enemies of old--the forces of the Warlord Caladan Brood, Anomander Rake and his Tiste Andii mages, and the Rhivi people of the plains. </p>
<p>But ancient undead clans are also gathering; the T'lan Imass have risen. For it would seem something altogether darker and more malign threatens this world. Rumors abound that the Crippled God is now unchained and intent on a terrible revenge. </p>
<p>At the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.</p>
<h3>Review</h3>
<p>"Erikson has infused new life into one of the oldest traditions of fiction. . . . Along with Gardens of the Moon and Deadhouse Gates, Memories of Ice offers all the rewards the word epic so often conjures and fails to deliver. Read and expect to be overpowered, not only by a story that never fails to thrill and entertain, but by a saga that lives up to its name, both intellectually and in its dramatic, visually rich and lavish storytelling."--SF Site on <em>Memories of Ice</em><br>"Erikson afflicts me with awe...vast in scope, almost frighteningly fecund in imagination, and rich in sympathy, his work does something that only the rarest of books can manage: it alters the reader's perceptions of reality."--Stephen R. Donaldson on <em>Deadhouse Gates</em><br>"Give me the evocation of a rich, complex and yet ultimately unknowable other world, with a compelling suggestion of intricate history and mythology and lore. Give me mystery amid the grand narrative. Give me a world in which every sea hides a crumbled Atlantis, every ruin has a tale to tell, every mattock blade is a silent legacy of struggles unknown. Give me, in other words, the fantasy work of Steven Erikson."--Andrew Leonard, <em>Salon</em> on *Gardens of the Moon </p>
<p>*</p>
<h3>Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.</h3>
<h1>Memories of Ice</h1>
<h1>Book Three of the Malazan Book of the Fallen</h1>
<p style="font-weight: bold">By Steven Erikson</p>
<h4 style="font-size: medium">Tom Doherty Associates</h4>
<p style="font-weight: bold">Copyright © 2001 Steven Erikson<br>All rights reserved.<br>ISBN: 978-0-7653-4880-7 </p>
<h3>Contents</h3>
<p>Title Page, <br>Copyright Notice, <br>Dedication, <br>Acknowledgments, <br>Maps, <br>Dramatis Personae, <br>Prologue, <br>Book One. The Spark and the Ashes, <br>Book Two. Hearthstone, <br>Book Three. Capustan, <br>Book Four. Memories of Ice, <br>Epilogue, <br>Glossary, <br>Teaser, <br>Tor Books by Steven Erikson, <br>Acclaim for Steven Erikson's Epic Series ITL[The Malazan Book of the Fallen]ITL, <br>Copyright, </p>
<p>CHAPTER 1</p>
<p>Memories are woven tapestries hiding hard walls — tell me, my friends, what hue your favoured thread, and I in turn, will tell the cast of your soul ...</p>
<p><em>Life of Dreams</em> Ilbares the Hag</p>
<p style="font-style: italic">1164th Year of Burn's Sleep (two months after the Darujhistan Fete) 4th Year of the Pannion Domin Tellann Year of the Second Gathering</p>
<p>The bridge's Gadrobi limestone blocks lay scattered, scorched and broken in the bank's churned mud, as if a god's hand had swept down to shatter the stone span in a single, petty gesture of contempt. And that, Gruntle suspected, was but a half-step from the truth.</p>
<p>The news had trickled back into Darujhistan less than a week after the destruction, as the first eastward-bound caravans this side of the river reached the crossing, to find that where once stood a serviceable bridge was now nothing but rubble. Rumours whispered of an ancient demon, unleashed by agents of the Malazan Empire, striding down out of the Gadrobi Hills bent on the annihilation of Darujhistan itself.</p>
<p>Gruntle spat into the blackened grasses beside the carriage. He had his doubts about that tale. Granted, there'd been strange goings on the night of the city's Fete two months back – not that he'd been sober enough to notice much of anything – and sufficient witnesses to give credence to the sightings of dragons, demons and the terrifying descent of Moon's Spawn, but any conjuring with the power to lay waste to an entire countryside would have reached Darujhistan. And, since the city was not a smouldering heap – or no more than was usual after a city-wide celebration – clearly nothing did.</p>
<p>No, far more likely a god's hand, or possibly an earthquake – though the Gadrobi Hills were not known to be restless. Perhaps Burn had shifted uneasy in her eternal sleep.</p>
<p>In any case, the truth of things now stood before him. Or, rather, did not stand, but lay scattered to Hood's gate and beyond. And the fact remained, whatever games the gods played, it was hard-working dirt-poor bastards like him who suffered for it.</p>
<p>The old ford was back in use, thirty paces upriver from where the bridge had been built. It hadn't seen traffic in centuries, and with a week of unseasonal rains both banks had become a morass. Caravan trains crowded the crossing, the ones on what used to be ramps and the ones out in the swollen river hopelessly mired down; while dozens more waited on the trails, with the tempers of merchants, guards and beasts climbing by the hour.</p>
<p>Two days now, waiting to cross, and Gruntle was pleased with his meagre troop. Islands of calm, they were. Harllo had waded out to a remnant of the bridge's nearside pile, and now sat atop it, fishing pole in hand. Stonny Menackis had led a ragged band of fellow caravan guards to Storby's wagon, and Storby wasn't too displeased to be selling Gredfallan ale by the mug at exorbitant prices. That the ale casks were destined for a wayside inn outside Saltoan was just too bad for the expectant innkeeper. If things continued as they did, there'd be a market growing up here, then a Hood-damned town. Eventually, some officious planner in Darujhistan would conclude that it'd be a good thing to rebuild the bridge, and in ten or so years it would finally get done. Unless, of course, the town had become a going concern, in which case they'd send a tax collector.</p>
<p>Gruntle was equally pleased with his employer's equanimity at the delay. News was, the merchant Manqui on the other side of the river had burst a blood vessel in his head and promptly died, which was more typical of the breed. No, their master Keruli ran against the grain, enough to threaten Gruntle's cherished disgust for merchants in general. Then again, Keruli's list of peculiar traits had led the guard captain to suspect that the man wasn't a merchant at all.</p>
<p>Not that it mattered. Coin was coin, and Keruli's rates were good. Better than average, in fact. The man might be Prince Arard in disguise, for all Gruntle cared.</p>
<p>'You there, sir!'</p>
<p>Gruntle pulled his gaze from Harllo's fruitless fishing. A grizzled old man stood beside the carriage, squinting up at him. 'Damned imperious of you, that tone,' the caravan captain growled, 'since by the rags you're wearing you're either the world's worst merchant or a poor man's servant.'</p>
<p>'Manservant, to be precise. My name is Emancipor Reese. As for my masters' being poor, to the contrary. We have, however, been on the road for a long time.'</p>
<p>'I'll accept that,' Gruntle said, 'since your accent is unrecognizable, and coming from me that's saying a lot. What do you want, Reese?'</p>
<p>The manservant scratched the silvery stubble on his lined jaw. 'Careful questioning among this mob had gleaned a consensus that, as far as caravan guards go, you're a man who's earned respect.'</p>
<p>'As far as caravan guards go, I might well have at that,' Gruntle said drily. 'Your point?'</p>
<p>'My masters wish to speak with you, sir. If you're not too busy – we have camped not far from here.'</p>
<p>Leaning back on the bench, Gruntle studied Reese for a moment, then grunted. 'I'd have to clear with my employer any meetings with other merchants.'</p>
<p>'By all means, sir. And you may assure him that my masters have no wish to entice you away or otherwise compromise your contract.'</p>
<p>'Is that a fact? All right, wait there.' Gruntle swung himself down from the buckboard on the side opposite Reese. He stepped up to the small, ornately framed door and knocked once. It opened softly and from the relative darkness within the carriage's confines loomed Keruli's round, expressionless face.</p>
<p>'Yes, Captain, by all means go. I admit as to some curiosity about this man's two masters. Be most studious in noting details of your impending encounter. And, if you can, determine what precisely they have been up to since yesterday.'</p>
<p>The captain grunted to disguise his surprise at Keruli's clearly unnatural depth of knowledge – the man had yet to leave the carriage – then said, 'As you wish, sir.'</p>
<p>'Oh, and retrieve Stonny on your way back. She has had far too much to drink and has become most argumentative.'</p>
<p>'Maybe I should collect her now, then. She's liable to poke someone full of holes with that rapier of hers. I know her moods.'</p>
<p>'Ah, well. Send Harllo, then.'</p>
<p>'Uh, he's liable to join in, sir.'</p>
<p>'Yet you speak highly of them.'</p>
<p>'I do,' Gruntle replied. 'Not to be too immodest, sir, the three of us working the same contract are as good as twice that number, when it comes to protecting a master and his merchandise. That's why we're so expensive.'</p>
<p>'Your rates were high? I see. Hmm. Inform your two companions, then, that an aversion to trouble will yield substantial bonuses to their pay.'</p>
<p>Gruntle managed to avoid gaping. 'Uh, that should solve the problem, sir.'</p>
<p>'Excellent. Inform Harllo thus, then, and send him on his way.'</p>
<p>'Yes, sir.'</p>
<p>The door swung shut.</p>
<p>As it turned out, Harllo was already returning to the carriage, fishing pole in one massive hand, a sad sandal-sole of a fish clutched in the other. The man's bright blue eyes danced with excitement.</p>
<p>'Look, you sour excuse for a man – I've caught supper!'</p>
<p>'Supper for a monastic rat, you mean. I could inhale that damned thing up one nostril.'</p>
<p>Harllo scowled. 'Fish soup. Flavour —'</p>
<p>'That's just great. I love mud-flavoured soup. Look, the thing's not even breathing – it was probably dead when you caught it.'</p>
<p>'I banged a rock between its eyes, Gruntle —'</p>
<p>'Must have been a small rock.'</p>
<p>'For that you don't get any —'</p>
<p>'For that I bless you. Now listen. Stonny's getting drunk —'</p>
<p>'Funny, I don't hear no brawl —'</p>
<p>'Bonuses from Keruli if there isn't one. Understood?'</p>
<p>Harllo glanced at the carriage door, then nodded. 'I'll let her know.'</p>
<p>'Better hurry.'</p>
<p>'Right.'</p>
<p>Gruntle watched him scurry off, still carrying his pole and prize. The man's arms were enormous, too long and too muscled for the rest of his scrawny frame. His weapon of choice was a two-handed sword, purchased from a weaponsmith in Deadman's Story. As far as those apish arms were concerned, it might be made of bamboo. Harllo's shock of pale blond hair rode his pate like a tangled bundle of fishing thread. Strangers laughed upon seeing him for the first time, but Harllo used the flat of a blade to stifle that response. Succinctly.</p>
<p>Sighing, Gruntle returned to where Emancipor Reese stood waiting. 'Lead on,' he said.</p>
<p>Reese's head bobbed. 'Excellent.'</p>
<hr>
<p>The carriage was massive, a house perched on high, spoked wheels. Ornate carvings crowded the strangely arched frame, tiny painted figures capering and climbing with leering expressions. The driver's perch was canopied in sun-faded canvas. Four oxen lumbered freely in a makeshift corral ten paces downwind from the camp.</p>
<p>Privacy obviously mattered to the manservant's masters, since they'd parked well away from both the road and the other merchants, affording them a clear view of the hummocks rising on the south side of the road, and, beyond it, the broad sweep of the plain.</p>
<p>A mangy cat lying on the buckboard watched Reese and Gruntle approach.</p>
<p>'That your cat?' the captain asked.</p>
<p>Reese squinted at it, then sighed. 'Aye, sir. Her name's Squirrel.'</p>
<p>'Any alchemist or wax-witch could treat that mange.'</p>
<p>The manservant seemed uncomfortable. 'I'll be sure to look into it when we get to Saltoan,' he muttered. 'Ah,' he nodded towards the hills beyond the road, 'here comes Master Bauchelain.'</p>
<p>Gruntle turned and studied the tall, angular man who'd reached the road and now strode casually towards them. Expensive, ankle-length cloak of black leather, high riding boots of the same over grey leggings, and, beneath a loose silk shirt – also black – the glint of fine blackened chain armour.</p>
<p>'Black,' the captain said to Reese, 'was last year's shade in Darujhistan.'</p>
<p>'Black is Bauchelain's eternal shade, sir.'</p>
<p>The master's face was pale, shaped much like a triangle, an impression further accented by a neatly trimmed beard. His hair, slick with oil, was swept back from his high brow. His eyes were flat grey – as colourless as the rest of him – and upon meeting them Gruntle felt a surge of visceral alarm.</p>
<p>'Captain Gruntle,' Bauchelain spoke in a soft, cultured voice, 'your employer's prying is none too subtle. But while we are not ones to generally reward such curiosity regarding our activities, this time we shall make an exception. You shall accompany me.' He glanced at Reese. 'Your cat seems to be suffering palpitations. I suggest you comfort the creature.'</p>
<p>'At once, master.'</p>
<p>Gruntle rested his hands on the pommels of his cutlasses, eyes narrowed on Bauchelain. The carriage springs squeaked as the manservant clambered up to the buckboard.</p>
<p>'Well, Captain?'</p>
<p>Gruntle made no move.</p>
<p>Bauchelain raised one thin eyebrow. 'I assure you, your employer is eager that you comply with my request. If, however, you are afraid to do so, you might be able to convince him to hold your hand for the duration of this enterprise. Though I warn you, levering him into the open may prove something of a challenge, even for a man of your bulk.'</p>
<p>'Ever done any fishing?' Gruntle asked.</p>
<p>'Fishing?'</p>
<p>'The ones that rise to any old bait are young and they don't get any older. I've been working caravans for more than twenty years, sir. I ain't young. You want a rise, fish elsewhere.'</p>
<p>Bauchelain's smile was dry. 'You reassure me, Captain. Shall we proceed?'</p>
<p>'Lead on.'</p>
<p>They crossed the road. An old goat trail led them into the hills. The caravan camp this side of the river was quickly lost to sight. The scorched grass of the conflagration that had struck this land marred every slope and summit, although new green shoots had begun to appear.</p>
<p>'Fire,' Bauchelain noted as they walked on, 'is essential for the health of these prairie grasses. As is the passage of bhederin, the hooves in their hundreds of thousands compacting the thin soil. Alas, the presence of goats will spell the end of verdancy for these ancient hills. But I began with the subject of fire, did I not? Violence and destruction, both vital for life. Do you find that odd, Captain?'</p>
<p>'What I find odd, sir, is this feeling that I've left my wax-tablet behind.'</p>
<p>'You have had schooling, then. How interesting. You're a swordsman, are you not? What need you for letters and numbers?'</p>
<p>'And you're a man of letters and numbers – what need you for that well-worn broadsword at your hip and that fancy mail hauberk?'</p>
<p>'An unfortunate side effect of education among the masses is lack of respect.'</p>
<p>'Healthy scepticism, you mean.'</p>
<p>'Disdain for authority, actually. You may have noted, to answer your question, that we have but a single, rather elderly manservant. No hired guards. The need to protect oneself is vital in our profession —'</p>
<p>'And what profession is that?'</p>
<p>They'd descended onto a well-trodden path winding between the hills. Bauchelain paused, smiling as he regarded Gruntle. 'You entertain me, Captain. I understand now why you are well spoken of among the caravanserai, since you are unique among them in possessing a functioning brain. Come, we are almost there.'</p>
<p>They rounded a battered hillside and came to the edge of a fresh crater. The earth at its base was a swath of churned mud studded with broken blocks of stone. Gruntle judged the crater to be forty paces across and four or five arm-lengths in depth. A man sat nearby on the edge of the rim, also dressed in black leather, his bald pate the colour of bleached parchment. He rose silently, for all his considerable size, and turned to them with fluid grace.</p>
<p>'Korbal Broach, Captain. My ... partner. Korbal, we have here Gruntle, a name that is most certainly a slanting hint to his personality.'</p>
<p>If Bauchelain had triggered unease in the captain, then this man – his broad, round face, his eyes buried in puffed flesh and wide full-lipped mouth set slightly downturned at the corners, a face both childlike and ineffably monstrous – sent ripples of fear through Gruntle. Once again, the sensation was wholly instinctive, as if Bauchelain and his partner exuded an aura somehow tainted.</p>
<p>'No wonder the cat had palpitations,' the captain muttered under his breath. He pulled his gaze from Korbal Broach and studied the crater.</p>
<p>Bauchelain moved to stand beside him. 'Do you understand what you are seeing, Captain?'</p>
<p>'Aye, I'm no fool. It's a hole in the ground.'</p>
<p>'Amusing. A barrow once stood here. Within it was chained a Jaghut Tyrant.'</p>
<p>'Was.'</p>
<p>'Indeed. A distant empire meddled, or so I gather. And, in league with a T'lan Imass, they succeeded in freeing the creature.'</p>
<p>'You give credence to the tales, then,' Gruntle said. 'If such an event occurred, then what in Hood's name happened to it?'</p>
<p>'We wondered the same, Captain. We are strangers to this continent. Until recently, we'd never heard of the Malazan Empire, nor the wondrous city called Darujhistan. During our all too brief stay there, however, we heard stories of events just past. Demons, dragons, assassins. And the Azath house named Finnest, which cannot be entered yet, seems to be occupied none the less – we paid that a visit, of course. More, we'd heard tales of a floating fortress, called Moon's Spawn, that once hovered over the city —'</p>
<p>'Aye, I'd seen that with my own eyes. It left a day before I did.'</p>
<p>Bauchelain sighed. 'Alas, it appears we have come too late to witness for ourselves these dire wonders. A Tiste Andii lord rules Moon's Spawn, I gather.'</p>
<p>Gruntle shrugged. 'If you say so. Personally, I dislike gossip.'</p>
<p>Finally, the man's eyes hardened.</p>
<p>The captain smiled inwardly.</p>
<p>'Gossip. Indeed.'</p>
<p>'This is what you wanted to show me, then? This ... hole?'</p>
<p>Bauchelain raised an eyebrow. 'Not precisely. This <em>hole</em> is but the entrance. We intend to visit the Jaghut tomb that lies below it'</p>
<p>'Oponn's blessing to you, then,' Gruntle said, turning away.</p>
<p>'I imagine,' the man said behind him, 'that your master would urge you to accompany us.'</p>
<p>'He can urge all he likes,' the captain replied. 'I wasn't contracted to sink in a pool of mud.'</p>
<p>'We've no intention of getting covered in mud.'</p>
<p>Gruntle glanced back at him, crooked a wry grin. 'A figure of speech, Bauchelain. Apologies if you misunderstood.' He swung round again and made his way towards the trail. Then he stopped. 'You wanted to see Moon's Spawn, sirs?' He pointed.</p>
<p>Like a towering black cloud, the basalt fortress stood just above the south horizon.</p>
<p>Boots crunched on the ragged gravel, and Gruntle found himself standing between the two men, both of whom studied the distant floating mountain.</p>
<p>'Scale,' Bauchelain muttered, 'is difficult to determine. How far away is it?'</p>
<p>'I'd guess a league, maybe more. Trust me, sirs, it's close enough for my tastes. I've walked its shadow in Darujhistan – hard not to for a while there – and believe me, it's not a comforting feeling.'</p>
<p>'I imagine not. What is it doing here?'</p>
<p>Gruntle shrugged. 'Seems to be heading southeast —'</p>
<p>'Hence the tilt.'</p>
<p>'No. It was damaged over Pale. By mages of the Malazan Empire.'</p>
<p>'Impressive effort, these mages.' </p>
<p><em>(Continues...)</em> Excerpted from Memories of Ice by Steven Erikson. Copyright © 2001 Steven Erikson. Excerpted by permission of Tom Doherty Associates. <br>All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.<br>Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site. --This text refers to the mass_market edition.</p>
<h3>About the Author</h3>
<p>Steven Erikson is an archaeologist and anthropologist and a graduate of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. His Malazan Book of the Fallen series, including <em>The Crippled God</em> , <em>Dust of Dreams</em> , <em>Toll the Hounds</em> and <em>Reaper’s Gale</em> , have met with widespread international acclaim and established him as a major voice in the world of fantasy fiction. The first book in the series, <em>Gardens of the Moon</em> , was shortlisted for a World Fantasy Award. The second novel, <em>Deadhouse Gates</em> , was voted one of the ten best fantasy novels of 2000 by SF Site. He lives in Canada. --This text refers to the mass_market edition.</p>
<h3>From the Back Cover</h3>
<p><strong>Praise for</strong> Deadhouse Gates <strong>:</strong><br>“Vast in scope, almost frighteningly fecund in imagination, and rich in sympathy, his work does something that only the rarest of books can manage: it alters the reader’s perceptions of reality.” – Stephen R. Donaldson --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.</p>
<h3>From Publishers Weekly</h3>
<p>Starred Review. Battle dominates the gripping third installment of Canadian Erikson's projected 10-volume series ( <em>Gardens of the Moon</em> , etc.), set in the land of Malazan and featuring a host of gods, grunt soldiers, wizards and undead. Ganoes Paran is now captain of the Bridgeburners, part of Dujek Onearm's army that's trying to fight off the vile forces of the Pannion Domin. The author vividly details the horrors of hand-to-hand combat along with the cannibalistic tendencies of the Tenescowri (or peasant) rabble that fight for the Pannion Domin. The most intriguing new character is Itkovian, a commander of the mercenary Grey Swords who finds, after the battle of Capustan, that his god has deserted him. For a giant fantasy series, this is tightly written, with no repetitious dialogue or exposition. Erikson ranks near the top of the epic fantasy pantheon. <br>Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.</p>
<h3>From Booklist</h3>
<p>On the continent Genabackis, a postapocalyptic society is ruled by the Pannion Domin, who include an excess prophet, the Panion Seer, and an empress worse than Leona Helmsley. Necessity is making allies of mercenaries and semiregular armies that once, under such rubrics as Dujek Onearm's Host and Whiskeyjack's Bridgeburners, fought to the death. To survive, these warriors need not only to keep peace among themselves but also to make peace, despite numerous bloody battles, with other bands, hosts, and ethnic groups. And they need to address the matter of an entire race of the undead, the T'lan Imass, on its way to do battle, besides which there are yet more potent and unnatural factors threatening survival. The long volume is the third in a saga that owes a good deal to Tolkien, but many may find the size of its canvas and cast, its vivid details, and the emotional intensity of its action appealing in ways that Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time is appealing. <em>Roland Green</em><br><em>Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved</em> --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.</p>
<h3>From the Inside Flap</h3>
<p>A triumph of storytelling and the latest thrilling chapter in Steven Erikson?s magnificent fantasy. </p>
<p>The ravaged continent of Genabackis has given birth to a terrifying new empire: the Pannion Domin. A boiling tale of corrupted blood, it seethes across the land, devouring all who fail to heed the Word of its elusive prophet. In its path stands an uneasy alliance: Dujek Onearm?s Host and Whiskeyjack?s veteran Bridgeburners ? each now outlawed by the Empress ? alongside the enemies of old, including the grim forces of warlord Caladan Brood, Anomander Rake, Son of Darkness, and his Tiste Andii, and the Rhivi people of the Plains. Outnumbered by the Seer?s army of zealots and struggling to put aside their differences, it is vital they get word to potential allies, including an unknown mercenary brotherhood, the Grey Swords, who have been contracted to defend the city of Capustan against these fanatic hordes. </p>
<p>But more ancient clans too are gathering. In answer to some primal summons, the massed ranks of the undead T?Ian Imass have risen. For it would appear something altogether darker and even more malign threatens the very substance of this world. The Warrens are poisoned, and rumours abound of the Crippled God, now unchained and intent on a terrible revenge. --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.</p></div>


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<p style="font-weight: bold">Best selling author Steven Erikson returns with the latest in the morbid history of the Malazan Empire </p>
<p>In Northern Genabackis, a raiding party of savage tribal warriors descends from the mountains into the southern flatlands. Their intention is to wreak havoc amongst the despised lowlanders, but for the one named Karsa Orlong it marks the beginning of what will prove to be an extraordinary destiny. </p>
<p>Some years later, it is the aftermath of the Chain of Dogs. Tavore, the Adjunct to the Empress, has arrived in the last remaining Malazan stronghold of Seven Cities. New to command, she must hone twelve thousand soldiers, mostly raw recruits but for a handful of veterans of Coltaine's legendary march, into a force capable of challenging the massed hordes of Sha'ik's Whirlwind who lie in wait in the heart of the Holy Desert. </p>
<p>But waiting is never easy. The seer's warlords are locked into a power struggle that threatens the very soul of the rebellion, while Sha'ik herself suffers, haunted by the knowledge of her nemesis: her own sister, Tavore.<br>And so begins this awesome new chapter in Steven Erikson's acclaimed Malazan Book of the Fallen . . . </p>
<p>At the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.</p>
<h3>Review</h3>
<p>"Truly epic in scope., Erikson has no peer when it comes to action and imagination, and joins the ranks of Tolkien and Donaldson in his mythic vision and perhaps then goes one better."--SF Site on <em>House of Chains<br></em><br>"A multilayered tale of magic and war, loyalty and betrayal. Complexly drawn characters occupy a richly detailed world in this panoramic saga.."--Library Journal on <em>House of Chains</em> </p>
<p>"This is true myth in the making, a drawing upon fantasy to recreate histories and legends as rich as any found within our culture."--Interzone on <em>House of Chains</em> </p>
<h3>From Publishers Weekly</h3>
<p><em>Starred Review.</em> Longtime fans may be surprised by the fourth book in Erikson's masterful fantasy epic that began with <em>Gardens of the Moon</em> (2004), because the long opening section follows a single character, the Teblor warrior Karsa Orlong, and his companions on a gory raid through enemy territory and into the human lowlands of Northern Genabackis. The time-hopping, perspective-shifting, looping story lines typical of this Canadian author return later, as Erikson ties Karsa's actions to the ultimate showdown between the forces of the Malazan Empire and Sha'ik's Army of the Apocalypse. Against a backdrop of brutal power struggles, the stubbornly determined Karsa is able to accomplish more than even he could have imagined. Unusual among fantasy writers, Erikson succeeds in making readers empathize equally with all sides involved in his world's vast, century-spanning conflict. Newcomers will eagerly seek out previous books in the series. <em>(Aug.)</em> <br>Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.</p>
<h3>From the Inside Flap</h3>
<p>This is the awesome fourth installment in Erikson?s epic sequence. </p>
<p>*?In Northern Genabackis, before the events recounted in Gardens of the Moon, a raiding party of savage tribal warriors descend from the mountains into the flat lands. </p>
<p>For one among them, Karsa Orlong, it marks the beginning of what will prove an extraordinary destiny. Some years later, it is the aftermath of the Chain of Dogs; Coltaine is dead. </p>
<p>And now the untried new Adjunct, Tavore, must urgently raise an army able to withstand the forces of the Sha?ik?s Whirlwind that are massing in Raraku, the few remaining veterans from Coltaine?s march her only hope.?* </p>
<p>So begins the epic new novel of war, intrigue, magic and betrayal from a writer now acknowledged as one of <br>the most original, imaginative and exciting storytellers in modern fantasy. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.</p>
<h3>About the Author</h3>
<p>Steven Erikson is an archaeologist and anthropologist and graduate of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. He recently returned to Canada after a number of years in the UK and now lives in Winnipeg. His first fantasy novel, <strong>Gardens of the Moon</strong> , was shortlisted for a World Fantasy Award and the second, <strong>Deadhouse Gates</strong> , was voted “one of the ten best fantasy novels of the year”. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.</p>
<h3>Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.</h3>
<p><strong>Chapter One<br></strong><br>Children from a dark house choose shadowed paths.<br>—Nathii Folk Saying </p>
<p>The dog had savaged a woman, an old man and a child before the warriors drove it into an abandoned kiln at the edge of the village. The beast had never before displayed an uncertain loyalty. It had guarded the Uryd lands with fierce zeal, one with its kin in its harsh, but just, duties. There were no wounds on its body that might have festered and so allowed the spirit of madness into its veins. Nor was the dog possessed by the foaming sickness. Its position in the village pack had not been challenged. Indeed, there was nothing, nothing at all, to give cause to the sudden turn. </p>
<p>The warriors pinned the animal to the rounded back wall of the clay kiln with spears, stabbing at the snapping, shrieking beast until it was dead. When they withdrew their spears they saw the shafts chewed and slick with spit and blood; they saw iron dented and scored. </p>
<p>Madness, they knew, could remain hidden, buried far beneath the surface, a subtle flavour turning blood into something bitter. The shamans examined the three victims; two had already died of their wounds, but the child still clung to life. </p>
<p>In solemn procession he was carried by his father to the Faces in the Rock, laid down in the glade before the Seven Gods of the Teblor, and left there. </p>
<p>He died a short while later. Alone in his pain before the hard visages carved into the cliff-face. </p>
<p>This was not an unexpected fate. The child, after all, had been too young to pray. </p>
<p>All of this, of course, happened centuries past. </p>
<p>Long before the Seven Gods opened their eyes. </p>
<p>*Urugal the Woven's Yea </p>
<p>1139 Burn's Sleep* </p>
<p>They were glorious tales. Farms in flames, children dragged behind horses for leagues. The trophies of that day, so long ago, cluttered the low walls of his grandfather's longhouse. Scarred skull-pates, frail-looking mandibles. Odd fragments of clothing made of some unknown material, now smoke-blackened and tattered. Small ears nailed to every wooden post that reached up to the thatched roof. </p>
<p>Evidence that Silver Lake was real, that it existed in truth, beyond the forest-clad mountains, down through hidden passes, a week - perhaps two - distant from the lands of the Uryd clan. The way itself was fraught, passing through territories held by the Sunyd and Rathyd clans, a journey that was itself a tale of legendary proportions. Moving silent and unseen through enemy camps, shifting the hearthstones to deliver deepest insult, eluding the hunters and trackers day and night until the borderlands were reached, then crossed - the vista ahead unknown, its riches not even yet dreamed of. </p>
<p>Karsa Orlong lived and breathed his grandfather's tales. They stood like a legion, defiant and fierce, before the pallid, empty legacy of Synyg - Pahlk's son and Karsa's father. Synyg, who had done nothing in his life, who tended his horses in his valley and had not once ventured into hostile lands. Synyg, who was both his father's and his son's greatest shame. </p>
<p>True, Synyg had more than once defended his herd of horses from raiders from other clans, and defended well, with honourable ferocity and admirable skill. But this was only to be expected from those of Uryd blood. Urugal the Woven was the clan's Face in the Rock, and Urugal was counted among the fiercest of the seven gods. The other clans had reason to fear the Uryd. </p>
<p>Nor had Synyg not proved masterful in training his only son in the Fighting Dances. Karsa's skill with the bloodwood blade far surpassed his years. He was counted among the finest warriors of the clan. While the Uryd disdained use of the bow, they excelled with spear and atlatl, with the toothed-disc and the black-rope, and Synyg had taught his son an impressive efficiency with these weapons as well. </p>
<p>None the less, such training was to be expected from any father in the Uryd clan. Karsa could find no reason for pride in such things. The Fighting Dances were but preparation, after all. Glory was found in all that followed, in the contests, the raids, in the vicious perpetuation of feuds. </p>
<p>Karsa would not do as his father had done. He would not do . . . <em>nothing.</em> No, he would walk his grandfather's path. More closely than anyone might imagine. Too much of the clan's reputation lived only in the past. The Uryd had grown complacent in their position of pre-eminence among the Teblor. Pahlk had muttered that truth more than once, the nights when his bones ached from old wounds and the shame that was his son burned deepest. </p>
<p style="font-style: italic">A return to the old ways. And I, Karsa Orlong, shall lead. Delum Thord is with me. As is Bairoth Gild. All in our first year of scarring. We have counted coup. We have slain enemies. Stolen horses. Shifted the hearthstones of the Kellyd and the Buryd. </p>
<p style="font-style: italic">And now, with the new moon and in the year of your naming, Urugal, we shall weave our way to Silver Lake. To slay the children who dwell there. </p>
<p>He remained on his knees in the glade, head bowed beneath the Faces in the Rock, knowing that Urugal's visage, high on the cliff-face, mirrored his own savage desire; and that those of the other gods, all with their own clans barring 'Siballe, who was the Unfound, glared down upon Karsa with envy and hate. None of their children knelt before them, after all, to voice such bold vows. </p>
<p>Complacency plagued all the clans of the Teblor, Karsa suspected. The world beyond the mountains dared not encroach, had not attempted to do so in decades. No visitors ventured into Teblor lands. Nor had the Teblor themselves gazed out beyond the borderlands with dark hunger, as they had often done generations past. The last man to have led a raid into foreign territory had been his grandfather. To the shores of Silver Lake, where farms squatted like rotted mushrooms and children scurried like mice. Back then, there had been two farms, a half-dozen outbuildings. Now, Karsa believed, there would be more. Three, even four farms. Even Pahlk's day of slaughter would pale to that delivered by Karsa, Delum and Bairoth. </p>
<p style="font-style: italic">So I vow, beloved Urugal. And I shall deliver unto you a feast of trophies such as never before blackened the soil of this glade. Enough, perhaps, to free you from the stone itself, so that once more you will stride in our midst, a deliverer of death upon all our enemies. </p>
<p style="font-style: italic">I, Karsa Orlong, grandson of Pahlk Orlong, so swear. And, should you doubt, Urugal, know that we leave this very night. The journey begins with the descent of this very sun. And, as each day's sun births the sun of the next day, so shall it look down upon three warriors of the Uryd clan, leading their destriers through the passes, down into the unknown lands. And Silver Lake shall, after more than four centuries, once again tremble to the coming of the Teblor. </p>
<p>Karsa slowly lifted his head, eyes travelling up the battered cliff-face, to find the harsh, bestial face of Urugal, there, among its kin. The pitted gaze seemed fixed upon him and Karsa thought he saw avid pleasure in those dark pools. Indeed, he was certain of it, and would describe it as truth to Delum and Bairoth, and to Dayliss, so that she might voice her blessing, for he so wished her blessing, her cold words . . . <em>I, Dayliss, yet to find a family's name, bless you, Karsa Orlong, on your dire raid. May you slay a legion of children. May their cries feed your dreams. May their blood give you thirst for more. May flames haunt the path of your life. May you return to me, a thousand deaths upon your soul, and take me as your wife.</em> </p>
<p><em>From the Paperback edition.</em> --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.</p>
<h3>From the Back Cover</h3>
<p>In Northern Genabackis, just before the events recounted in Gardens of the Moon," a tribal raiding party descends into the southern flat lands intent on wreaking havoc. But for the one named Karsa Orlong it marks the beginning of what will prove an extraordinary destiny. <br>Some years later, Tavore, recently appointed Adjunct to the Empress, has arrived in the last Malazan stronghold on Seven Cities. New to command, she must hone twelve thousand soldiers, into a force capable of confronting the massed hordes of the seer Sha'ik's Whirlwind who lie in the heart of the Holy Desert. <br>But waiting is never easy. The tribal chiefs are locked in a power struggle that threatens the very soul of the rebellion, while Sha'ik herself is haunted by the knowledge of her nemesis, Tavore, her own sister... <br>So begins this awesome epic novel of war, intrigue, magic and betrayal from a writer regarded as one of the most original and exciting storytellers in fantasy today. --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.</p>
<h3>From Booklist</h3>
<p>The fourth volume of the Malazan Book of the Fallen takes place some years after the death of the famous Seventh Army commander, Coltaine. Now Tavore, adjunct to the empress, is trying to assemble the army's surviving veterans and a ragtag collection of tribes, wanderers, and recruits into a viable fighting force. Not far away, the seer Sha'ik, Tavore's sister, is trying to organize a successful rebellion out of equally disparate elements, including warlords, sorcerers, and renegades. Despite a fairly complex array of subplots that support the rather dark tone of the story, it is the duel between the sisters and the abundantly detailed world Erikson has built that really carry the book. Indeed, with the help of the glossary and cast of characters Erikson provides, this book is enjoyable even without previous acquaintance with the Malazan tales. So it will please the already acquainted, and may inspire the unacquainted to read its predecessors, <em>Gardens of the Moon</em> (1999), <em>Deadhouse Gates</em> (2000), and <em>Memories of Ice</em> [BKL Ap 15 02]. <em>Roland Green</em><br><em>Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved</em> --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.</p></div>


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<p>After decades of internecine warfare, the tribes of the Tiste Edur have at last united under the Warlock King of the Hiroth. There is peace--but it has been exacted at a terrible price: a pact made with a hidden power whose motives are at best suspect, at worst, deadly. </p>
<p>To the south, the expansionist kingdom of Lether, eager to fulfill its long-prophesized renaissance as an Empire reborn, has enslved all its less-civilized neighbors with rapacious hunger. All, that is, save one--the Tiste Edur. And it must be only a matter of time before they too fall--either beneath the suffocating weight of gold, or by slaughter at the edge of a sword. Or so destiny has decreed. <br>Yet as the two sides gather for a pivotal treaty neither truly wants, ancient forces are awakening. For the impending struggle between these two peoples is but a pale reflection of a far more profound, primal battle--a confrontation with the still-raw wound of an old betrayal and the craving for revenge at its seething heart. </p>
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<p>The Sixth Book of the epic Malazan Book of the Fallen from bestselling author Steven Erikson. In The Bonehunters, in the ever decimating Malazan Empire, a war is brewing between mortal and immortals, gods and mages, that will decide once and for all who shall exist and who shall perish. The Seven Cities Rebellion has been crushed. Sha'ik is dead. One last rebel force remains, holed up in the city of Y'Ghatan and under the fanatical command of Leoman of the Flails. The prospect of laying siege to this ancient fortress makes the battle-weary Malaz 14th Army uneasy. For it was here that the Empire's greatest champion Dassem Ultor was slain and a tide of Malazan blood spilled. A place of foreboding, its smell is of death. But elsewhere, agents of a far greater conflict have made their opening moves. The Crippled God has been granted a place in the pantheon, a schism threatens and sides must be chosen. Whatever each god decides, the ground-rules have changed, irrevocably, terrifyingly and the first blood spilled will be in the mortal world. A world in which a host of characters, familiar and new, including Heboric Ghost Hands, the possessed Apsalar, Cutter, once a thief now a killer, the warrior Karsa Orlong and the two ancient wanderers Icarium and Mappo--each searching for such a fate as they might fashion with their own hands, guided by their own will. If only the gods would leave them alone. But now that knives have been unsheathed, the gods are disinclined to be kind. There shall be war, war in the heavens. And, the prize? Nothing less than existence itself... Here is the stunning new chapter in Steven Erikson magnificent Malazan Book of the Fallen--hailed as an epic of the imagination and acknowledged as a fantasy classic in the making. </p>
<p>At the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.</p></div>


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<p>A brutal, harrowing chapter of the Malazan Book of the Fallen from best selling author Steven EriksonAll is not well in the Letherii Empire. Rhulad Sengar, the Emperor of a Thousand Deaths, spirals into madness, surrounded by sycophants and agents of his Machiavellian chancellor. Meanwhile, the Letherii secret police conduct a campaign of terror against their own people. The Errant, once a farseeing god, is suddenly blind to the future. Conspiracies seethe throughout the palace, as the empire - driven by the corrupt and self-interested - edges ever-closer to all-out war with the neighboring kingdoms. The great Edur fleet--its warriors selected from countless numbers of people--draws closer. Amongst the warriors are Karsa Orlong and Icarium Lifestealer--each destined to cross blades with the emperor himself. That yet more blood is to be spilled is inevitable... Against this backdrop, a band of fugitives seek a way out of the empire, but one of them, Fear Sengar, must find the soul of Scabandari Bloodeye. It is his hope that the soul might help halt the Tiste Edur, and so save his brother, the emperor. Yet, traveling with them is Scabandari's most ancient foe: Silchas Ruin, brother of Anomander Rake. And his motives are anything but certain - for the wounds he carries on his back, made by the blades of Scabandari, are still fresh. Fate decrees that there is to be a reckoning, for such bloodshed cannot go unanswered--and it will be a reckoning on an unimaginable scale. This is a brutal, harrowing novel of war, intrigue and dark, uncontrollable magic; this is epic fantasy at its most imaginative, storytelling at its most thrilling. </p>
<p>At the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.</p></div>


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<p>In Darujhistan, the city of blue fire, it is said that love and death shall arrive dancing. It is summer and the heat is oppressive, but for the small round man in the faded red waistcoat, discomfiture is not just because of the sun. All is not well. Dire portents plague his nights and haunt the city streets like fiends of shadow. Assassins skulk in alleyways, but the quarry has turned and the hunters become the hunted. </p>
<p>Hidden hands pluck the strings of tyranny like a fell chorus. While the bards sing their tragic tales, somewhere in the distance can be heard the baying of Hounds...And in the distant city of Black Coral, where rules Anomander Rake, Son of Darkness, ancient crimes awaken, intent on revenge. It seems Love and Death are indeed about to arrive...hand in hand, dancing. </p>
<p>A thrilling, harrowing novel of war, intrigue and dark, uncontrollable magic, <em>Toll the Hounds</em> is the new chapter in Erikson's monumental series - epic fantasy at its most imaginative and storytelling at its most exciting. </p>
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<p>In war everyone loses. This brutal truth can be seen in the eyes of every soldier in every world...In Letherii, the exiled Malazan army commanded by Adjunct Tavore begins its march into the eastern Wastelands, to fight for an unknown cause against an enemy it has never seen. And in these same Wastelands, others gather to confront their destinies. The warlike Barghast, thwarted in their vengeance against the Tiste Edur, seek new enemies beyond the border and Onos Toolan, once immortal T'lan Imass now mortal commander of the White Face clan, faces insurrection. To the south, the Perish Grey Helms parlay passage through the treacherous kingdom of Bolkando. Their intention is to rendezvous with the Bonehunters but their vow of allegiance to the Malazans will be sorely tested. And ancient enclaves of an Elder Race are in search of salvation—not among their own kind, but among humans—as an old enemy draws ever closer to the last surviving bastion of the K'Chain Che'Malle. </p>
<p>So this last great army of the Malazan Empire is resolved to make one final defiant, heroic stand in the name of redemption. But can deeds be heroic when there is no one to witness them? And can that which is not witnessed forever change the world? Destines are rarely simple, truths never clear but one certainty is that time is on no one's side. For the Deck of Dragons has been read, unleashing a dread power that none can comprehend...In a faraway land and beneath indifferent skies, the final chapter of ‘The Malazan Book of the Fallen' has begun...At the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.</p></div>


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<p>The climax to the epic Malazan Book of the Fallen series that will determine how the world is ruled. Savaged by the K'Chain Nah'Ruk, the Bonehunters march for Kolanse, where waits an unknown fate. Tormented by questions, the army totters on the edge of mutiny, but Adjunct Tavore will not relent. One final act remains, if it is in her power, if she can hold her army together, if the shaky allegiances she has forged can survive all that is to come. A woman with no gifts of magic, deemed plain, unprepossessing, displaying nothing to instill loyalty or confidence, Tavore Paran of House Paran means to challenge the gods – if her own troops don't kill her first. </p>
<p>Awaiting Tavore and her allies are the Forkrul Assail, the final arbiters of humanity. Drawing upon an alien power terrible in its magnitude, they seek to cleanse the world, to annihilate every human, every civilization, in order to begin anew. They welcome the coming conflagration of slaughter, for it shall be of their own devising, and it pleases them to know that, in the midst of the enemies gathering against them, there shall be betrayal. </p>
<p>In the realm of Kurald Galain, home to the long lost city of Kharkanas, a mass of refugees stand upon the First Shore. Commanded by Yedan Derryg, the Watch, they await the breaching of Lightfall, and the coming of the Tiste Liosan. This is a war they cannot win, and they will die in the name of an empty city and a queen with no subjects. </p>
<p>Elsewhere, the three Elder Gods, Kilmandaros, Errastas and Sechul Lath, work to shatter the chains binding Korabas, the Otataral Dragon, from her eternal prison. Once freed, she will rise as a force of devastation, and against her no mortal can stand. At the Gates of Starvald Demelain, the Azath House sealing the portal is dying. Soon will come the Eleint, and once more, there will be dragons in the world. </p>
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<p style="font-weight: bold">Now is the time to tell the story of an ancient realm, a tragic tale that sets the stage for all the tales yet to come and all those already told... </p>
<p>It's a conflicted time in Kurald Galain, the realm of Darkness, where Mother Dark reigns. But this ancient land was once home to many a power. and even death is not quite eternal. The commoners' great hero, Vatha Urusander, is being promoted by his followers to take Mother Dark's hand in marriage, but her Consort, Lord Draconus, stands in the way of such ambitions. The impending clash sends fissures throughout the realm, and as the rumors of civil war burn through the masses, an ancient power emerges from the long dead seas. Caught in the middle of it all are the First Sons of Darkness, Anomander, Andarist, and Silchas Ruin of the Purake Hold... </p>
<p>Steven Erikson entered the pantheon of great fantasy writers with his debut <em>Gardens of the Moon</em>. Now he returns with the first novel in a trilogy that takes place millennia before the events of the <em>Malazan Book of the Fallen and</em> introduces readers to Kurald Galain, the warren of Darkness. It is the epic story of a realm whose fate plays a crucial role in shaping the world of the Malazan Empire. </p>
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<p>Steven Erikson returns to the Malazan world with the second book in a dark and revelatory new epic fantasy trilogy, one that takes place a millennium before the events in his New York Times bestselling Malazan Book of the Fallen. Fall of Light continues to tell the tragic story of the downfall of an ancient realm, a story begun in the critically acclaimed Forge of Darkness. </p>
<p>It's a conflicted time in Kurald Galain, the realm of Darkness, where Mother Dark reigns. But this ancient land was once home to many a power... and even death is not quite eternal. The commoners' great hero, Vatha Urusander, is being promoted by his followers to take Mother Dark's hand in marriage, but her Consort, Lord Draconus, stands in the way of such ambitions. The impending clash sends fissures throughout the realm. As rumors of civil war burn through the masses, an ancient power emerges from the long dead seas. Caught in the middle of it all are the First Sons of Darkness, Anomander, Andarist, and Silchas Ruin of the Purake Hold...At the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.</p></div>


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<p>The first three tales of Bauchelain and Korbal Broach, the famed necromancers from the Malazan Book of the Fallen, collected in one volume. BLOOD FOLLOWSIn the port city of Lamentable Moll, a diabolical killer stalks the streets and panic grips the citizens like a fever. As Emancipor Reese's legendary ill luck would have it, his previous employer is the unknown killer's latest victim. But two strangers have come to town and they have posted in Fishmonger's Round a note, reeking of death-warded magic, requesting the services of a manservant... THE HEALTHY DEADThe city of Quaint's zeal for goodness can be catastophic, and no one knows this better than Bauchelain and Korbal Broach, two stalwart champions of all things bad. </p>
<p>The homicidal necromancers - and their substance-addled manservant, Emancipor Reese - find themeselves ensnared in a scheme to bring goodness into utter ruination. Sometimes you must bring down civilization...in the name of civilization. </p>
<p>THE LEES OF LAUGHTER'S ENDAfter their blissful sojourn in Lamentable Moll, the sorcerors Bauchelain and Korbal Broach - along with their manservant, Emancipor Reese -set out on the open seas aboard the sturdy ship Suncurl. Alas, there's more baggage in the hold than meets the beady eyes of the crew, and unseemly terrors awaken. For Bauchelain, Korbal Broach and Emancipor Reese, it is just one more night on the high seas, on a journey without end. </p>
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<p>It is an undeniable truth: give evil a name and everyone's happy. Give it two names and...why, they're even happier. </p>
<p>Intrepid necromancers Bauchelain and Korbal Broach, scourges of civilization, raisers of the dead, reapers of the souls of the living, devourers of hope, betrayers of faith, slayers of the innocent, and modest personifications of evil, have a lot to answer for and answer they will. Known as the Nehemoth, they are pursued by countless self-professed defenders of decency, sanity, and civilization. After all, since when does evil thrive unchallenged? Well, often—but not this time. </p>
<p>Hot on their heels are the Nehemothanai, avowed hunters of Bauchelain and Korbal Broach. In the company of a gaggle of artists and pilgrims, stalwart Mortal Sword Tulgord Vise, pious Well Knight Arpo Relent, stern Huntsman Steck Marynd, and three of the redoubtable Chanter brothers (and their lone sister) find themselves faced with the cruelest of choices. The legendary Crack'd Pot Trail, a stretch of harsh wasteland between the Gates of Nowhere and the Shrine of the Indifferent God, has become a tortured path of deprivation. </p>
<p>Will honor, moral probity, and virtue prove champions in the face of brutal necessity? No, of course not. Don't be silly. </p>
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<p>A new novella from New York Times bestselling author Steven Erikson, set in the world of the Malazan Book of the Fallen, The Wurms of Blearmouth. </p>
<p>Tyranny comes in many guises, and tyrants thrive in palaces and one-room hovels, in back alleys and playgrounds. Tyrants abound on the verges of civilization, where disorder frays the rule of civil conduct and propriety surrenders to brutal imposition. Millions are made to kneel and yet more millions die horrible deaths in a welter of suffering and misery. But leave all that behind and plunge into escapist fantasy of the most irrelevant kind, and in the ragged wake of the tale told in Lees of Laughter's End, those most civil adventurers, Bauchelain and Korbal Broach, along with their suitably phlegmatic manservant, Emancipor Reese, make gentle landing upon a peaceful beach, beneath a quaint village at the foot of a majestic castle. There they make acquaintance with the soft-hearted and generous folk of Spendrugle, which lies at the mouth of the Blear River and falls under the benign rule of the Lord of Wurms in his lovely keep. Make welcome, then, to Spendrugle's memorable residents, including the man who should have stayed dead, the woman whose prayers should never have been answered, the tax collector everyone ignores, the ex-husband town militiaman who never married, the beachcomber who lives in his own beard, and the now singular lizard cat who used to be plural, and the girl who likes to pee in your lap. And of course, hovering over all, the denizen of the castle keep, Lord—Ah, but there lies this tale. </p>
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<p><em>The Fiends of Nightmaria</em> <strong>is a new novella from</strong> <em>New York Times</em> <strong>bestselling author Steven Erikson, set in the world of the Malazan Book of the Fallen.</strong> </p>
<p>The king is dead, long live King Bauchelain the First, crowned by the Grand Bishop Korbal Broach. Both are, of course, ably assisted in the running of the Kingdom of Farrog by their slowly unravelling servant, Emancipor Reese. However, tensions are mounting between Farrog and the neighboring country of Nightmaria, the mysterious home of the Fiends. Their ambassador, Ophal D Neeth Flatroq, seeks an audience with King Bauchelain, who has thus far rebuffed his overtures. But the necromancer has some other things on his plate. </p>
<p>To quell potential rebellion nearly all the artists, poets, and bards in the city have been put to death. A few survivors languish in the dungeons, bemoaning their fates. Well, just moaning in general really...and maybe plotting escape and revenge. </p>
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<h3>Review</h3>
<p>“A fast-paced, morbidly humorous adventure. Series fans will find much to love in this jam-packed, tongue-in-cheek installment.” ― <em>Publishers Weekly</em> </p>
<p>“Erikson is a master of lost and forgotten epochs, a weaver of ancient epics.” ― <em>Salon</em> </p>
<p>“Erikson has no peer when it comes to action and imagination, and joins the ranks of Tolkien and Donaldson in his mythic vision and perhaps then goes one better.” ― <em>SF Site</em> </p>
<p>“Gripping, fast-moving, delightfully dark, with a masterful and unapologetic brutality reminiscent of George R. R. Martin… Utterly engrossing.” ― <em>Elizabeth Haydon,</em> bestselling author of <em>The Symphony of Ages</em> </p>
<p>“This masterwork of imagination may be the high-water mark of epic fantasy.” ― <em>Glen Cook,</em> bestselling author of <em>The Black Company</em></p>
<p>--This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.</p>
<h3>About the Author</h3>
<p>Steven Erikson is an archaeologist and anthropologist and a graduate of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. His Malazan Book of the Fallen series, including <em>The Crippled God</em> , <em>Dust of Dreams</em> , <em>Toll the Hounds</em> and <em>Reaper’s Gale</em> , have met with widespread international acclaim and established him as a major voice in the world of fantasy fiction. The first book in the series, <em>Gardens of the Moon</em> , was shortlisted for a World Fantasy Award. The second novel, <em>Deadhouse Gates</em> , was voted one of the ten best fantasy novels of 2000 by SF Site. He lives in Canada. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.</p></div>


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<p>From the world of Avatar: The Last Airbender comes the instant USA Today and New York Times bestselling novel starring Avatar Kyoshi—now in paperback!Justice begins with one woman. After nine years of desperate searching for the next Avatar, the discovery of young, charming Avatar Yun has brought stability to the four nations—that is, until Earth Kingdom-born Kyoshi, Yun’s unassuming friend and servant, demonstrates remarkable bending during a mission to the South Pole. With the identity of the true Avatar at stake and the growing unrest among her allies turning into violence, Kyoshi is forced to flee the Avatar mansion with her fiery friend Rangi, taking little more than the metal war fans and headdress her parents left behind. It isn’t easy finding Avatar training on the run, but Kyoshi and Rangi find unlikely supporters in the daofei: ragtag criminals and outlaws living in the shadows of the Earth Kingdom. Torn between following the traditional path of an Avatar and seeking vengeance for those she has lost, Kyoshi struggles to accept her newfound power as she trains in secret. But while Kyoshi, Rangi, and her daofei friends face off against brutal underworld rivals, those who seek to control the Avatar draw ever closer to her, leaving trails of the dead in their wake. The story behind the longest-living Avatar in the history of this beloved world, The Rise of Kyoshi maps Kyoshi’s journey from a girl of humble origins to the merciless pursuer of justice still feared and admired centuries after becoming the Avatar.</p></div>


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<p style="font-weight: bold">From the world of <em>Avatar: The Last Airbender</em> comes the instant <em>USA Today</em> and <em>New York Times</em> bestselling novel starring Avatar Kyoshi--now in paperback </p>
<p>After years of searching for the next Avatar, the four nations have found peace with Avatar Yun--until Kyoshi, Yun's friend and servant, demonstrates remarkable bending abilities herself. With the identity of the true Avatar After nine years of desperate searching for the next Avatar, the discovery of young, charming Avatar Yun has brought stability to the four nations--that is, until Earth Kingdom-born Kyoshi, Yun's unassuming friend and servant, demonstrates remarkable bending during a mission to the South Pole. With the identity of the true Avatar at stake and the growing unrest among her allies turning into violence, Kyoshi is forced to flee the Avatar mansion with her fiery friend Rangi, taking little more than the metal war fans and headdress her parents left behind. <br>It isn't easy finding Avatar training on the run, but Kyoshi and Rangi find unlikely supporters in the <em>daofei</em> : ragtag criminals and outlaws living in the shadows of the Earth Kingdom. Torn between following the traditional path of an Avatar and seeking vengeance for those she has lost, Kyoshi struggles to accept her newfound power as she trains in secret. But while Kyoshi, Rangi, and her <em>daofei</em> friends face off against brutal underworld rivals, those who seek to control the Avatar draw ever closer to her, leaving trails of the dead in their wake. <br>The story behind the longest-living Avatar in the history of this beloved world, <em>The Rise of Kyoshi</em> maps Kyoshi's journey from a girl of humble origins to the merciless pursuer of justice still feared and admired centuries after becoming the Avatar. </p>
<p>Runtime: 14 hours 29 minutes</p></div>


