Game 24, round 4 -- the book
Ok, the next book is newish fantasy, Kari Sperring's Living With Ghosts -- I bought it yesterday and haven't even started it!
Here's the blurb:
Gracielis, the failed assassin priest turned courtesan and spy, wants to deny his strange abilitiies, yet he cannot ignore the ghostly presence that shadows him or the sorceress who rules him. Thiercelin wants his wife's love but all her time and energy are devoted tot he preservation of Merafi and its ruler. Valdarrien, slain in a duel, wants to find his lost love and to live again. And the loyal soldier Joyain just wants a quiet life.
But in the ancient city of Merafi, you don't always get what you want.
For centuries, Merafi's safety and prosperity have relied on a pact sealed in blood between its first king and the land's elemental forces. The city should be immune to the powers inherited by Gracielis and his race, and opaque to ghosts and mystical creatures. But now a sorceress and a prince have broken the pact. The city's river is raging, its floodwaters bearing plague, supernatural violence, and destruction. Fantastical creatures walk the night. The dead -- some of them -- are trying to return. The rational, irreligious Merafiens no longer believe in elemental powers and are blind to their sudden danger.
Trapped by the vows binding him to the sorceress, Gracielis fears for those he has come to love ...
Desperate to prove himself to his wife, Thiercelin takes ever greater risks ...
In the nighttime streets, Joyain fights deadly mist wraiths ...
And as death and disaster spread, the magic protecting Merafi weakens -- and Valderrien's ghost grows ever stronger ...
The Excerpt:
Thiercelin could not sleep. It was, he was aware, nobody's fault but his own, yet for all that he could not escape a vague sense of resentment. He lay in Gracielis' bed and wriggled, staring into the gloom. The room was lit only by the dying fire. Before it, Gracielis stretched out. THe had his back to Thiercelin and his blanket pulled up to his chin. Probably, he was asleep. Thiercelin turned over again and suppressed a sigh. Think of nothing. Think of something neutral . . . Not of tomorrow's duel, not of Yvellaine. Remember Valdin, that time in the Old Palace, fighting in a gallery. How he cursed the polish on the floors! Of course, it was different with swords; such duels took longer. A pistol shot . . . Don't think about it. His opponent -- what was his name? -- Lievrier was a cavalryman. Had to be a fair shot, then. Maybe better used to muskets. . .Thiercelin should not have drunk so much today, risked a hangover. River bless that Gracielis had made him eat. One thing Yvellaine would not have to reproach herself with. . . . Don't think about it.
Poll
Lines due Saturday at midnight, London time.
Here's the blurb:
Gracielis, the failed assassin priest turned courtesan and spy, wants to deny his strange abilitiies, yet he cannot ignore the ghostly presence that shadows him or the sorceress who rules him. Thiercelin wants his wife's love but all her time and energy are devoted tot he preservation of Merafi and its ruler. Valdarrien, slain in a duel, wants to find his lost love and to live again. And the loyal soldier Joyain just wants a quiet life.
But in the ancient city of Merafi, you don't always get what you want.
For centuries, Merafi's safety and prosperity have relied on a pact sealed in blood between its first king and the land's elemental forces. The city should be immune to the powers inherited by Gracielis and his race, and opaque to ghosts and mystical creatures. But now a sorceress and a prince have broken the pact. The city's river is raging, its floodwaters bearing plague, supernatural violence, and destruction. Fantastical creatures walk the night. The dead -- some of them -- are trying to return. The rational, irreligious Merafiens no longer believe in elemental powers and are blind to their sudden danger.
Trapped by the vows binding him to the sorceress, Gracielis fears for those he has come to love ...
Desperate to prove himself to his wife, Thiercelin takes ever greater risks ...
In the nighttime streets, Joyain fights deadly mist wraiths ...
And as death and disaster spread, the magic protecting Merafi weakens -- and Valderrien's ghost grows ever stronger ...
The Excerpt:
Thiercelin could not sleep. It was, he was aware, nobody's fault but his own, yet for all that he could not escape a vague sense of resentment. He lay in Gracielis' bed and wriggled, staring into the gloom. The room was lit only by the dying fire. Before it, Gracielis stretched out. THe had his back to Thiercelin and his blanket pulled up to his chin. Probably, he was asleep. Thiercelin turned over again and suppressed a sigh. Think of nothing. Think of something neutral . . . Not of tomorrow's duel, not of Yvellaine. Remember Valdin, that time in the Old Palace, fighting in a gallery. How he cursed the polish on the floors! Of course, it was different with swords; such duels took longer. A pistol shot . . . Don't think about it. His opponent -- what was his name? -- Lievrier was a cavalryman. Had to be a fair shot, then. Maybe better used to muskets. . .Thiercelin should not have drunk so much today, risked a hangover. River bless that Gracielis had made him eat. One thing Yvellaine would not have to reproach herself with. . . . Don't think about it.
Poll
Lines due Saturday at midnight, London time.