Chapters (39)
- Title Page
- Copyright Notice
- PROLOGUE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- TOR BOOKS BY JACQUELINE CAREY
- PRAISE FOR JACQUELINE CAREY
- GODSLAYER
- Copyright Page
For a long time, he did not answer. The marrow-fire burned soundless, shedding brightness throughout the Chamber of the Font; in its midst, Godslayer hung like a suspended wail, pulsing. Darkness gathered around the Shaper like stormclouds and his eyes sparked a slow, inexorable red.
“No,” he said at last. “Not all. Not Tanaros.”
It gladdened her heart to hear it in a manner that filled her with uneasiness. How far had she fallen, how deeply had this touched her, that the kindness of Tanaros Kingslayer could make her glad? The Sunderer’s lies undermined the foundation of her certainty. Could there be another capable of bringing the Prophecy to fruition, another daughter of the House of Elterrion? Malthus kept his counsel close …
No. No. To believe as much was to open a door onto despair. Satoris Banewreaker was the Prince of Lies, and behind the courtly courtesies General Tanaros extended was a man who had throttled his wife and slain his sovereign. There were no other truths that mattered.
In the garden, a mortexigus flower shivered untouched and loosed its pollen.
Oh, Aracus! Cerelinde thought in despair. I need you!
EIGHTEEN
EIGHTEEN
THANKS TO MERONIN FIFTH-BORN, Lord of the Seas, the winds blew fair from Port Eurus and Haomane’s Allies arrived safe on Pelmaran soil, where they were met by a deposition from Regent Martinek. Borderguard, Seaholders, Midlanders and Vedasians, not to mention the Host of the Ellylon—it was a difficult thing, establishing preeminence among them.
Out of necessity, all bowed to the Pelmaran regent.
“We need him,” shrewd Duke Bornin murmured to Aracus Altorus. “We need all of them, else we will not prevail against the Sorceress.”
So it was that Aracus, the last scion of House Altorus and king-in-exile of the West, bent his red-gold head in courteous acknowledgment, and all who followed him followed suit save only the Rivenlost, those of the Host of the Ellylon, who held themselves second in stature to none of the Lesser Shapers.
“Right.” Martinek’s captain, whose name was Rikard, rode up and down the lists, surveying them with a keen eye. “We’re bound for Kranac, then. Is there anyone among you who has trouble acknowledging his honor’s sovereignty in the third district of Pelmar?”
He halted his mount before Aracus Altorus, raising dark brows.
“Captain.” Aracus’ voice was steady. “I am here for one reason only: To assure the safe return of my Lady Cerelinde. All else is naught to me.”
“And you?” Rikard paused before Lorenlasse of Valmaré, who commanded the Host of the Ellylon. “What of you, my fine Ellyl lord?”