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Chapters (70)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. Map
  5. Epigraph
  6. BEGINNINGS
  7. PART I
  8. ONE
  9. TWO
  10. THREE
  11. FOUR
  12. FIVE
  13. SIX
  14. SEVEN
  15. EIGHT
  16. NINE
  17. TEN
  18. ELEVEN
  19. TWELVE
  20. THIRTEEN
  21. FOURTEEN
  22. FIFTEEN
  23. SIXTEEN
  24. SEVENTEEN
  25. EIGHTEEN
  26. NINETEEN
  27. TWENTY
  28. TWENTY-ONE
  29. TWENTY-TWO
  30. TWENTY-THREE
  31. TWENTY-FOUR
  32. TWENTY-FIVE
  33. TWENTY-SIX
  34. TWENTY-SEVEN
  35. TWENTY-EIGHT
  36. TWENTY-NINE
  37. THIRTY
  38. THIRTY-ONE
  39. THIRTY-TWO
  40. THIRTY-THREE
  41. THIRTY-FOUR
  42. THIRTY-FIVE
  43. THIRTY-SIX
  44. PART II
  45. THIRTY-SEVEN
  46. THIRTY-EIGHT
  47. THIRTY-NINE
  48. FORTY
  49. FORTY-ONE
  50. FORTY-TWO
  51. FORTY-THREE
  52. FORTY-FOUR
  53. FORTY-FIVE
  54. FORTY-SIX
  55. FORTY-SEVEN
  56. FORTY-EIGHT
  57. FORTY-NINE
  58. FIFTY
  59. FIFTY-ONE
  60. FIFTY-TWO
  61. FIFTY-THREE
  62. FIFTY-FOUR
  63. FIFTY-FIVE
  64. FIFTY-SIX
  65. FIFTY-SEVEN
  66. TRICKSTER
  67. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  68. Also by Susan Dennard
  69. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  70. Newsletter Sign-up

It was wrong, so wrong. A violation she’d never imagined herself committing. A step too far as the Puppeteer, and no matter how much she told herself it was to protect Safi, she couldn’t stop the guilt from sludging through her.

“I’m sorry,” Iseult whispered. “I’m so, so sorry.” She tugged at the Threads and moved Safi’s head. A swivel left, a swivel right. Wind and clouds, cold and creaking wood. Hell-Bards made of shadow. A man with wild violent Threads. Spinning cloth, glowing Airwitch power, and mountains slipping by.

“I’m sorry,” Iseult said again, and this time, she released Safi. Heat stifled through her, despite the eternal cold of the Loom. Wrong, wrong—she had done something irredeemably wrong. Because you are a monster and it is all you can do.

“What did you see?” Corlant asked, his head crooking down to Iseult’s like a vulture sizing up its prey. “What did you find, Iseult?”

“A flying machine.” Her voice scraped out, raw with inner heat and inner hate. “Safi is with three Hell-Bards, and they are coming this way.” Iseult did not mention the fifth person, angry and brooding and powerful in his own way. She didn’t know why, but the words stayed stuffed in her throat. The Fool card still to be played.

“Excellent,” Corlant said. His long fingers laced into a triumphant fist. “You truly were born to do this. Now let us leave the Loom and find a way to bring them to us, shall we?” His fingers unwound. He offered her a hand.

And she swallowed. The last thing she wanted was to touch him, in the Loom or in real life. But she also needed him to believe her a willing student and willing daughter.

She took his hand, corpse-like and foul.

It was only as the world of the Dreaming melted away and warmth—real, living warmth—caressed in that Iseult wondered if perhaps Corlant had already known about Leopold on the machine. If perhaps Leopold was the one who’d told Corlant about the stolen Threadstones.

Wicked Cousin and Trickster. Old Ones forgotten, Paladins returned.

FORTY-TWO

Kahina possessed the blade and glass. Exactly what Ryber had feared would happen, exactly what Stix had believed, in all her overconfidence, would not.

The Hammer handed Kahina the broken blade, and she held it toward the light that roiled off Ryber’s cage of flames. Orange and white glittered on the steel. Kahina smiled. It was not a gloating smile, nor even a delighted one, but rather a smile of relief.