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Kate Elliott is the author of more than a dozen epic novels. Her novel King’s Dragon was a finalist for the Nebula Award and The Golden Key (co-written with Melanie Rawn and Jennifer Roberson) was a World Fantasy Award finalist. Born in Oregon, she lives in Hawaii.Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:
Marit was pretty sure she had been murdered. She recalled vividly the assassin’s dagger that had punctured her skin, thrust up under her ribs, and pierced her heart. Any reeve—and Marit was a reeve—could tell you that was a killing blow, a certain path to a swift death. In the moment when life must pass over into death and the spirit depart the body, the misty outlines of the Spirit Gate unfold. The passage between this world and the other world had opened within her dying vision. But her spirit had not made the journey.
She woke alone, sprawled naked on a Guardian altar with only a cloak for a covering. Her eagle was dead. She knew it in the same way you know an arm is missing without looking to see: Your balance is different. Her eagle was dead, so she must be dead, because no reeve survived the death of her eagle.
Yet that being so, how could she stand up, much less stagger to the edge of a drop-off so sheer she hadn’t noticed it because she was disoriented? She stepped into thin air before she knew she’d mistaken her ground, and she was falling, falling, the wind whistling in her ears. The earth plunged up to meet her.
Then she woke, sprawled naked on a Guardian altar with only a cloak for covering, and realized she had been dreaming.
Sitting, she rubbed her eyes. The place in her dream had been a narrow ledge without even a wall to warn of the drop-off. This place was high and exposed, an expanse of glittering stone untouched by vegetation. She rose cautiously and ventured to the highest point on the bluff. She stood at the prow of a ridgeline. The vista was astonishing: In front lay a lowland sink dropping away to a wide cultivated plain that extended toward a distant suggestion of water; to her right spread a pulsing green riot of forest so broad she could not see the end of it; behind, ragged hills covered with trees formed a barrier formidable not because of their height but because they were wild. The wind streamed over the ridge, rumbling in her ears.
She knew right where she was: on the southernmost spur of the Liya Hills, an excellent spot for thermals that an eagle and her reeve could spiral on for hours with a view of the Haya Gap. The vast tangled forest known as the Wild lay to the south, and the lowland plain that bordered the arm of the ocean known as the Bay of Istria ran east.
She knew right where she was.
Aui! She was standing on a Guardian altar.
So far nothing had happened to her. But that didn’t change the unalterable fact that she had broken the boundaries that forbade all people, even reeves, from entering the sacred refuges known as Guardian altars. She had broken the boundaries, and now she would be punished according to the law.
That being so, what had happened to her lover, Joss, who had after all been the one who had persuaded her to follow him up to an altar?
There was only one way to find out: walk to the main compound of Copper Hall, which lay about midway between the cities of Haya and Nessumara, and find out what was going on.
The altar wasn’t so difficult to get down from after all. A stair carved into rock switchbacked down the stone face and into a sinkhole that twisted to become an ordinary musty cave with a narrow mouth hidden by vegetation. She ducked under the trailing vines of hangdog and pushed through a thicket of clawed beauty whose thorns slipped right off the tempting fabric of the cloak. Clusters of orange flowers bobbed around her, which struck her as odd because clawed beauty only bloomed in the early part of the year, during the season of the Flower Rains, and that was months away.
Except for the rest of the afternoon and the following days it rained in erratic bursts as she trudged through the woodland cover. The trails she followed became slick with puddles and damp leaves. She slopped alongside cultivated lands. Farmers, bent double in ankle-deep water, transplanted young rice plants. Women dragged hoes through flooded fields, skimming off the weeds and setting them aside for animal fodder. The sun set and rose in its familiar cycle. As she moved toward the coast and low-lying land, the dykes and edges had their own distinctive flora: pulses, soya, hemp, with ranks of mulberries on the margins. She kept her cloak wrapped tightly around her, but anyway people were too busy to notice her.
Soon enough paths joined cart tracks that joined wagon roads that met up with the broad North Shore Road. Although the original Copper Hall had been built on the delta, the main compound was now sited about forty mey south of Haya on one of a series of bluffs overlooking the Bay of Istria with a lovely vantage and good air currents swirling where land met sea.
It had been years since she had walked to the turning for Copper Hall. Once Flirt had chosen her, she had always flown. The paved roadbed was raised on a foundation and surfaced with cut stones fitted together as cunningly as a mosaic, flanked by margins of crushed stone. From an eagle, you didn’t notice the remarkable skill and craftsman’s work, or the stone benches set at intervals as a kindly afterthought. From an eagle, one’s view of the roads turned from textured ramps of earth, gravel, and paving stone into the all-important solid lines linking cities and towns and temples.
She trudged past the triple-gated entrance to a temple dedicated to Ilu, the Herald. The gatekeeper slouched on a wooden bench under a thatched lean-to, staring disinterestedly at the road. His dog whined, ears flat, and slunk under the bench. She wrapped her cloak more tightly, but no one—not the gatekeeper and none of the folk walking along the road—paid the slightest attention to her. Salt spray nipped the air. Fish ponds lined the rocky shore. The bay gleamed gray-blue in late-afternoon light, waves kicking against the seawall.
On the seaward edge the land rose into a series of high bluffs while the road curved inland past rice fields lined with reeds and salt grass. As the sun set, she found an empty byre to shelter in against the night rains, its straw mildewed. She didn’t really sleep; she lay with eyes closed and thoughts in a tangle, never quite coming into focus.
She woke at dawn and rose and walked, and at last saw the stout stone pillar carved with a hood and feather in relief and the huge wooden perch, freshly whitewashed, that marked the turning to Copper Hall. She was home.
Wiping tears from her eyes, she plodded up the long slope toward the high ground, feeling more and more winded, as if all the life and spirit were being drained out of her. As if she was afraid. How would she be greeted by her comrades at the reeve hall? She had broken the boundaries. She would have to accept punishment.
Aui! She had to find out what had happened to Joss, protect him if she could or back him up on his reckless decision to investigate the Guardian’s altar in Liya Pass. Hadn’t he been right? Wasn’t it true that something was terribly wrong?
No person in the Hundred had stood before a Guardian at an assizes since her long-dead grandfather was a boy. Anyway, an old man’s memory might be suspect. The meticulous records stored in Sapanasu’s temples recording the proceedings of assizes courts where Guardians had presided might, in fact, be explained as a conventional form used by the clerks and hierophants of the Lantern to account the decisions made by wandering judges who were otherwise perfectly human.
Many said the Guardians had abandoned the Hundred. Others said the Guardians had never existed, that they were only characters sung in the Tales. Yet on the Guardian’s altar up on the Liya Pass, she and Joss had discovered bones—the bones of a murdered Guardian, maybe, because a pelvis could have been splintered in that way only by a tremendous fall or a massive blow.
But all the tales agreed that Guardians couldn’t die.
The reeve hall was a huge compound surrounded by fields and orchards and open ground where a pair of reeves—relatively new ones, by the look of their tentative maneuvers—were learning to harness up under the supervision of a patient fawkner. She didn’t recognize the young reeves, but she was pretty sure the fawkner was her good friend Gadit, although she was holding her body at a canted angle, as if her right shoulder was stiff from injury.
High watchtowers stretched up as little more than scaffolding. She did not recognize the pair of very young men lounging on gate duty, but their bored faces and listless chatter irritated her. They did not bother to challenge her, and they ought to have; she was an unlikely sight, with her naked feet and calves and a cloak clutched tightly around her body, yet she walked through the gate unremarked. She would have words with Marshal Alard about their lackadaisical attitude.
It was difficult to remain annoyed in the familiar environs she loved: the wide-open land-side parade ground with its chalk-laced dusty earth; the low storehouses side by side in marching order; the barracks and eating hall sited where the high ground dipped, making a bit of a windbreak; the high lofts set back to either side, and beyond them the seaward parade ground that overlooked the cliff and the choppy bay.
Most reeves must be out on patrol, since she did not recognize the few faces she saw. Two very young fawkner’s assistants scurried toward the lofts with harness draped awkwardly over their backs. A youth shuffled past holding a cook’s ladle while sneezing and wiping his nose. A young woman seated on a bench was sniveling while Marit’s dear friend and fellow reeve Kedi spoke in the tone of a man who has said the same cursed words a hundred times:
“It’s done, Barda. When...
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Book Description Little, Brown Book Group, United Kingdom, 2009. Paperback. Condition: New. Language: English . Brand New Book. Marit was pretty sure she had been murdered. She vividly recalled the assassin s dagger, and her dying vision had shown her the next world - but her spirit had not made the journey. She woke alone, sprawled on a Guardian s altar, with more questions than answers.The Guardians once ruled the Hundred, but disappeared in ages past, leaving reeves to manage the peace in their stead. But Marit finds this peace has been shattered as a desperate army ravages the land, and its leaders walk in shadow, wearing the cloaks of lost Guardians. As she searches for meanings in a changed world, Marit finds her old love Joss and the Outlander Anji struggling to maintain order amidst chaos. But her own enemies are drawing close. Marit tries to untangle the web of betrayals that connect her murder with the razing of the countryside, but she can t run forever. She will be found and there will be choices: complicity or death. Seller Inventory # AA29781841492971
Book Description Little, Brown Book Group, United Kingdom, 2009. Paperback. Condition: New. Language: English. Brand new Book. Marit was pretty sure she had been murdered. She vividly recalled the assassin's dagger, and her dying vision had shown her the next world - but her spirit had not made the journey. She woke alone, sprawled on a Guardian's altar, with more questions than answers.The Guardians once ruled the Hundred, but disappeared in ages past, leaving reeves to manage the peace in their stead. But Marit finds this peace has been shattered as a desperate army ravages the land, and its leaders walk in shadow, wearing the cloaks of lost Guardians. As she searches for meanings in a changed world, Marit finds her old love Joss and the Outlander Anji struggling to maintain order amidst chaos. But her own enemies are drawing close. Marit tries to untangle the web of betrayals that connect her murder with the razing of the countryside, but she can't run forever. She will be found and there will be choices: complicity or death. Seller Inventory # AA29781841492971
Book Description Orbit, 2009. Condition: New. Seller Inventory # GH9781841492971
Book Description Orbit. Condition: New. 2009. 2009th Edition. Paperback. Book Two in a spectacular fantasy epic - a violent struggle for land and power in a world of fabled cities, great dangers and mysterious gods. Series: Crossroads. Num Pages: 688 pages, map. BIC Classification: FM. Category: (G) General (US: Trade). Dimension: 198 x 129 x 45. Weight in Grams: 552. . . . . . Books ship from the US and Ireland. Seller Inventory # V9781841492971
Book Description Orbit, 2009. Condition: New. 2009. 2009th Edition. Paperback. Book Two in a spectacular fantasy epic - a violent struggle for land and power in a world of fabled cities, great dangers and mysterious gods. Series: Crossroads. Num Pages: 688 pages, map. BIC Classification: FM. Category: (G) General (US: Trade). Dimension: 198 x 129 x 45. Weight in Grams: 552. . . . . . . Seller Inventory # V9781841492971
Book Description Orbit, 2009. Condition: New. book. Seller Inventory # ria9781841492971_rkm
Book Description Condition: New. Bookseller Inventory # ST1841492973. Seller Inventory # ST1841492973
Book Description Little, Brown Book Group. Paperback. Condition: New. New copy - Usually dispatched within 2 working days. Seller Inventory # B9781841492971
Book Description Orbit, 2009. Paperback. Condition: New. BRAND NEW ** SUPER FAST SHIPPING FROM UK WAREHOUSE ** 30 DAY MONEY BACK GUARANTEE. Seller Inventory # mon0000410596
Book Description 2009. Paperback. Condition: New. Paperback. Marit was pretty sure she had been murdered. She vividly recalled the assassin's dagger, and her dying vision had shown her the next world - but her spirit had not made the journey. She wo.Shipping may be from multiple locations in the US or from the UK, depending on stock availability. 688 pages. 0.456. Seller Inventory # 9781841492971