Karen Miller - Kingmaker, Kingbreaker 01 by The Innocent Mage

Author:The Innocent Mage [Mage, The Innocent]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-03-22T12:28:03+00:00

Gar choked. ‘Or Wilier.’ He burst out laughing, all the strain and despair of the last week draining from his face.

Relieved for the moment, dreading the future, Asher laughed with him.

In the aftermath of the announcement that His Majesty had that very morning been pronounced once more fine and dandy by the royal physician Pother Nix, the Green Goose was crammed to the rafters with celebration and a damned fine tune from Humperdy’s Band. No sooner had the sun gone down and the last shop shut its doors than the inn began to fill with cheerful Olken ready to raise a mug or many to the king’s good health and the Wall’s longstanding.

Not that there’d been any fear for the Wall, of course. Everybody knew the king was a powerful strong magician who’d never let that Wall fall down. And anyway, there was always Princess Fane, ready to be WeatherWorker as soon as was needful. And if that wasn’t a reason for celebration, then just what bloody well was?

Dathne waited and watched as Matt fought through the heaving, hilarious crowd to the bar for a fresh mug each of ale. Despite the good news about the king she was in no mood for smiling.

After a year without visions, Prophecy was back.

She’d dreamed last night of evil eyes, waiting, and a wind of fury blowing every tree in the Black Woods bare.

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Of stars bleeding scarlet as they fell from the sky, and the sound of women weeping.

The stubborn silence had continued for so long since her last vision she’d begun to doubt all that had at first felt so clear and certain. If Asher were truly the Innocent Mage, why had Prophecy abandoned her, Jervale’s Heir, leaving her ignorant and blind? Where was calamity? What had happened to the Final Days? Had she been wrong after all?

Wait, Veira had counselled her. After six hundred and forty-four years, what is one more? Prophecy unfolds itself according to its own desires, child. Not ours. You were not wrong. Asher is the one, and his time will come. Wait.

So she’d waited. Waited and waited and waited, filling her days with work and her nights with schooling Asher as best she could, without revealing anything, in whatever arts and knowledge she thought might help him in the hidden days to come. And after a little while had got well used to waiting. To laughing. To his company. So that waiting had stopped feeling like waiting … and instead began to feel like happiness.

Now at long last the waiting was over, and all she could do was long for the silence and nights empty of dreams. For after the dream that had woken her screaming into the dark, there burned in her mind a new knowledge. An understanding that here now were the Final Days, counting down to chaos. That the last year had been a kind of gestation, and bloody childbirth waited hungrily, its time almost come. The knowledge sat on her shoulder like a

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