A Taste of Magic - Hardcover

Norton, Andre; Rabe, Jean

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 0765315270 ISBN 13: 9780765315274

Verlag: Tor Books, 2006

Inhaltsangabe

"The Green Ones favored me this day."

Thus begins A Taste of Magic, the latest magical world creation by Andre Norton.

Wisteria is magically attuned to the world around her. Her senses relish the tastes of magic that the wonders of nature offer. But the peacefulness of her backwoods existence is shattered when her village is attacked by the raiding force of the bellicose Lord Purvis, who leaves only this twenty-something magic wielder and an adolescent lass as the inadvertent survivors.

Wisteria has pledged herself to a mission. Now she and her young ward must brave the wilds beyond their home in pursuit of the ravager who destroyed everyone near and dear to their hearts.

The woman with the Taste of Magic now has a taste for vengeance, and the blood oath she has pledged must be satisfied with the life of Lord Purvis.

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorinnen und Autoren

Andre Norton was the Grand Dame of Science Fiction and Fantasy whose creations include Witch World and Beast Master. She died in 2005.

Jean Rabe is the author of the Finest trilogy and numerous books for TSR/WOTC. She lives in Kenosha, Wisconsin.

Andre Norton was the Grand Dame of Science Fiction and Fantasy whose creations include Witch World and Beast Master. She died in 2005.

Jean Rabe is the author of the Finest trilogy and numerous books for TSR/WOTC. She lives in Kenosha, Wisconsin.

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A Taste of Magic

By Norton, Andre

Tor Books

Copyright ©2006 Norton, Andre
All right reserved.
ISBN: 0765315270

Chapter One

 
THE GREEN ONES FAVORED ME THIS DAY.
 
A brace of curl-horns, mates I’d tracked to a shallow den, lay across Dazon’s saddle. No room for me to ride, they were so large! I knew they would pleasantly fill all of our bellies this evening and the next.
 
For the past five Oath Marks, and all the days between, our hunting had been disappointing. We’d been ranging farther north of the village and into the darkest parts of the Sabado Forest. Our families were proud and not known for depending on the elaborate rituals of either the Dawn Priests or the Sun Sisters, but lately there had been talk of seeking spiritual aid for our hunt. Perhaps if the Green Ones favored me again tomorrow, such prayers—and their expensive offerings—would not be necessary.
 
Lady Ewaren, our House Lady, was a weaver, and so I bowed my head respectfully as I led Dazon out of the thickest section of woods and past a large glow-spider resting in a dew-sprinkled net. Many minutes later the trees thinned considerably more, longleaf pines and mature persimmons giving way to a scattering of sweetbays and young elms, signaling my approach to the Village Nar. The afternoon sun stretched through the scant branches and warmed my face and bare arms. I closed my eyes and took a few blissful moments to enjoy this spring day, and to listen to the birdsong and the other small sounds of this undisturbed place—the chitter of ground squirrels and gray backs, the soft chirp of insects.
 
Abruptly a bellow shattered the natural melody. The bellow came again and again. I recognized it as a cow demanding milking. The village cattleman was not one to be tardy to his work and ignore our small herd. So I quickened my strides out of concern and curiosity, tugging my horse to a faster pace until we cleared the woods completely. The recently sown fields and the hedge of high brush that walled the Village Nar came into view.
 
I stopped in midstep, listening to the repeated bellows and smelling fire and burnt meat. I tentatively opened my mouth and extended my tongue to confirm the scents.
 
I am a docent of Bastien t’Ikkes, a once-royal guard and near-fabled Moonson who saved the Emperor’s life during a bear hunt many years past. His injuries from that incident forced his retirement, his courage earned him a pension and a home in this village, and his patience garnered me the post as his student.
 
Bastien taught me how to fight with a sword and knives and how to taste the breeze and scent for danger and other things, which was what I did now.
 
The tip of my tongue registered an unpalatable acridity, the distinctive taste of death and the lingering scents of fear and desperation.
 
There’d been a raid while I was hunting!
 
Our village is filled with farmers, hunters, and weavers, not warriors. Peaceful people! My heart seized with fear. I dropped the reins, knowing Dazon would follow me, and I rushed through a gap in the brush.
 
Who attacked us? And why?
 
I saw no one.
 
The gate to the courtyard swung in the wind.
 
Near Willum t’Jelth’s house I spotted a snorter stretched on a frame over a now-smoldering fire, more than half of its carcass hacked away. I heard the bellow again, and I slipped along the hedge to the north, drawing upon all the stealthy skills Bastien had taught me and trying to force down the dread threatening to overwhelm me.
 
“Willum? Gerald?”
 
No answer.
 
I raised my voice. “Maergo? Lady Ewaren? Lady Ewaren!”
 
Now I could see a section of the yard beyond the gate, the Great House and its various attendant buildings essentially forming the walls of the courtyard. Inside, a large cow tramped across the soft loam of a newly seeded herb garden and continued to bellow loudly, two smaller ones trailing behind it. Another cow leaned against the side of the Great House. The sun caught on shards of metal protruding from its black hide, as numerous as the pins in Lady Ewaren’s sewing pillow. Blood dripped from its wounds. I vowed to end its suffering—after I saw to the village.
 
I looked elsewhere, cupping my hands over my eyes, shutting out the light and focusing on my wyse-sense and on my tongue and what the wind was telling me.
 
Death.
 
The wind spoke of death and suffering and confusion.
 
I thought I saw a foot and a torn piece of material just under the shadow of a jutting second story.
 
A foot . . .
 
“Willum! Maergo! Lady Ewaren!”
 
Loosening the web of my backpack, I sat it on the ground and placed my blowpipe and quiver of bolts next to it. I did not want to be encumbered when I faced the enemy, but I wanted to be prepared. I drew the longest of my knives and fought to keep my senses sharp. Fear and grief threatened to overwhelm me.
 
It was easy to suspicion all manner of horrid things, especially after seeing the throwstars in the cow’s side and finding no one outside and no one to answer my call. I wanted more than suspicion to work with, and so struggling desperately to keep panic at bay, I again tasted the air, urging my tongue to find the scents.
 
Blood—blood is always strong enough to make itself known first. There was more blood than I had ever scented before. And I picked up a touch of sweat—of men and mounts—and the fire I smelled earlier, and ashes. Then I strained my senses to the limit, barely able to reach and identify emotions. I tasted terror, pain, and hate. And above all of that, I tasted my own horror, choking and dreadfully nauseating.
 
“Willum.” My voice grew weak, a whisper. “Lady Ewaren.”
 
Still, nothing stirred in the village.
 
The foot I spied in the distance did not move, and somehow I knew it belonged to a corpse. How many dead? I knew I would have to search the entire village to learn what had happened. My stomach churned with the grisly possibilities, and my heart hammered with each step I took. I was feeling faint from the scents and the notion that I wouldn’t find a soul alive, that everyone I knew and loved had been brutally butchered.
 
But slain by whom? Slain why?
 
And why had I gone hunting so early this morning? Had I lingered, I could have defended this place.
 
“Willum!”
 
The coughing sickness had taken Bastien this past winter. The village had no guards, the elders thinking Bastien’s presence enough protection. But after his death, the elders still took no steps for defense, thinking our world oh so peaceful and safe, and thinking that I could be sufficient defense, given the skills Bastien had taught me. Too, there had been no rumors of invasion from the Twisted Lands, and Lady Ewaren seemed held in favor with the neighboring countries to the west—even though it was said she was descended from the long-outlawed House of Alchura.
 
I sheathed my knife and tugged a long, thin chain free from my belt. I preferred it as a weapon because of its reach. Then I started down a gentle slope, making use of the shadows from buildings to provide me some cover. Within heartbeats I stood in the gate road. Once more I tongue-tested, finding more blood, ashes, terror, and hate....

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Tor Books
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2006
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0765315270
• ISBN 13: 9780765315274
• Einband: Gebundene Ausgabe
• Anzahl der Seiten: 303
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: Procter & Gamble Service GmbH, Braun; https://in.pg.com/contact-us/; ; Sulzbacher Str. 40-50; Schwalbach/Ts.; 65824; Deutschland