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Lying atop my rafter, I wept in horror, that any D’Angeline could so betray his country, and I wept in fury, for the sheer, arrogant idiocy of it. Below me, Waldemar Selig folded the letter and tapped it against his palm once more, grinning at his thanes. "It is an interesting offer," he said, "and one that would greatly increase our status. But I have a better idea!" He waved the letter in the air. "This Kilberhaar, he is a cunning man and a bold fighter, but he does not know the Skaldi if he thinks we are fool enough to settle for a piece, when the whole is there for the taking! If you agree, I will answer this man, and say we will take his offer and he may lay his plots. Enough men will we send to the southern passes that he thinks we have done so; and we will take ground and hold it, then retreat, and draw the D’Angelines into the passes, which can be held only by a handful, so they never need guess our true numbers." He shoved the letter back into his belt and his hands sketched the movements in the air. "Then we will come in numbers through the northern pass, and we will fall upon Kilberhaar when he thinks to make the false parley! And it shall be we who sweep down upon the rearguard of the D’Angeline army and trap them against the mountains, and we who prevail!"

They were all on their feet then, roaring approval, so that the hall thundered with it. I clung to the rafter and shuddered. Waldemar Selig waited for them to settle.

"What do you say?" he asked, when it was quiet enough to make himself heard. "Shall we do it?"

There was no question of it; they were for it, the men shouting and stamping, rattling their swords. I saw here or there, among the women, quieter faces as they began to think of the reality of war and the numbers who would be killed. Hedwig was among them, I was glad to see. Still, none spoke against it. For the part of the men, they were all for setting out the next day. It took some doing for Selig to calm them.

"We cannot fight this war in winter," he said rationally, once they would listen. "I have read books." He paused to let that sink in and impress them; few Skaldi had seen a book, and most knew only futhark if any written tongue at all, simple symbols carved on wood and stone. "I have read books by the greatest tacticians of Hellas and Tiberium. One thing all agree upon, that an army travels on its belly. If we are to hold the passes, we cannot do it starving and freezing, on mounts we cannot feed. It must wait until summer, when the hunting is rich and the crops coming, with good grazing and no need to build the fires high at night. Let every man go forth from the Allthing and prepare for this day. Let the forges begin to work, that every man be keenly armed. Let every woman count the household stores, and make plans to supply our campaign. Do you say it shall be so? Then we will vote upon it."

I was surprised that they did this, after the loud acclaim, but they did. Selig was clever; King some had named him and he would even call himself, but he was yet uncrowned. Needless to say, the vote passed without dissent.

"If you have quarrels among yourselves," he said then, softly, "let it be a matter of pride to settle them now. We must go into this conflict as brethren all, a glorious army. We do not go as squabbling tribesmen. Who has a case that would be heard before the All thing?" There was some shuffling; there were quarrels, no doubt. Anyone could see it. Waldemar Selig’s gaze swept the crowd. "You, Mottul of the Vandalü? It is said Halvard killed your sister-son. Do you accuse him?"

These were Skaldic matters, and of no concern to me; by the pricking of the hair on the back of my neck, I knew it was time to withdraw. I began to wriggle backward along the rafter, using my knees and elbows as best I could. It was a great deal more difficult than going forward, and my skirts encumbered my progress. Melisande’s diamond hung free from about my throat, bumping against the wood; I was terrified that the glitter of it would give me away. It seemed an eternity before I was safely above the storeroom, and peered over the edge to see Joscelin tracking my progress with worried eyes.

"Get down!" he hissed at me, holding up his arms. Now that I was out of sight of the Skaldi, the shock of what I’d witnessed struck me, and I found myself trembling. Still, there was nothing else for it. I clung to the rafter by my fingertips, lowering my body until I felt Joscelin’s hands graze my ankles. "Let go," he whispered, and I did, falling to slide through his grasp until his hands caught me hard about the waist, and he set me down carefully on the barrel.

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Kushiel’s Dart
Kushiel’s Dart

The land of Terre d'Ange is a place of unsurpassing beauty and grace. It is said that angels found the land and saw it was good… and the ensuing race that rose from the seed of angels and men live by one simple rule: Love as thou wilt.Phèdre nó Delaunay is a young woman who was born with a scarlet mote in her left eye. Sold into indentured servitude as a child, her bond is purchased by Anafiel Delaunay, a nobleman with very a special mission…and the first one to recognize who and what she is: one pricked by Kushiel's Dart, chosen to forever experience pain and pleasure as one.Phèdre is trained equally in the courtly arts and the talents of the bedchamber, but, above all, the ability to observe, remember, and analyze. Almost as talented a spy as she is courtesan, Phèdre stumbles upon a plot that threatens the very foundations of her homeland. Treachery sets her on her path; love and honor goad her further. And in the doing, it will take her to the edge of despair…and beyond. Hateful friend, loving enemy, beloved assassin; they can all wear the same glittering mask in this world, and Phèdre will get but one chance to save all that she holds dear.Set in a world of cunning poets, deadly courtiers, heroic traitors, and a truly Machiavellian villainess, this is a novel of grandeur, luxuriance, sacrifice, betrayal, and deeply laid conspiracies. Not since Dune has there been an epic on the scale of Kushiel's Dart-a massive tale about the violent death of an old age, and the birth of a new.

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