City of Broken Magic (Chronicles of Amicae) - Softcover

Bolender, Mirah

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1250169275 ISBN 13: 9781250169273

Verlag: Tor Trade, 2018

Inhaltsangabe

Mirah Bolender's fast-paced, adventure fantasy debut, City of Broken Magic, features a bomb squad that defuses magic weapons.

Five hundred years ago, magi created a weapon they couldn't control. An infestation that ate magic-and anything else it came into contact with. Enemies and allies were equally filling.

Only an elite team of non-magical humans, known as sweepers, can defuse and dispose of infestations before they spread. Most die before they finish training.

Laura, a new team member, has stayed alive longer than most. Now, she's the last-and only-sweeper standing between the city and a massive infestation.

Chronicles of Amicae
City of Broken Magic / The Monstrous Citadel / Fortress of Magi

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

MIRAH BOLENDER graduated with majors in creative writing and art in May 2014. A lifelong traveler, she has traveled and studied overseas, most notably in Japan, and these experiences leak into her work. City of Broken Magic is her debut fantasy novel. She currently lives in St. Paul, Minnesota.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

City of Broken Magic

By Mirah Bolender

Tom Doherty Associates

Copyright © 2018 Mirah Bolender
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-250-16927-3

Contents

Title Page, 
Copyright Notice, 
Dedication, 
Acknowledgments, 
Map, 
1. August 1233, 
2. The Two-Monther, 
3. (This Job Is) The Pits, 
4. Silver-Coin Eyes, 
5. What Do You Hate?, 
6. Silver is not Gold, 
7. Roots, 
8. Stormy Sweeper, 
9. Yesteryear, 
10. Numberface, 
11. Hitting the Grit, 
12. Kaibutsu, 
13. Two for One, 
14. Castoffs, 
15. Gods in the Rabble, 
16. Falling Feet-First, 
17. The Gin Cycle, 
18. Airedale, 
19. Derailing, 
20. Bone Polisher, 
21. Gossipmongers, 
22. The Family Business, 
23. Sickness in the Earth, 
24. Anselm, 
25. A Light in the Dark, 
26. Thunder Underground, 
27. In the Wake, 
About the Author, 
Copyright, 

CHAPTER 1

AUGUST 1233

Is he going to know?

Laura gripped the handles of her bike harder and squinted, taking in the building before her. No, she decided, no one was visible through the windows. Perfect. All she had to do was sneak in, sit down, pretend she'd been there the entire time. Late? Ha, of course not, what are you talking about? All that stood between her and impunity was that damn squeaky door; though its noise was usually unnoticeable, in the quiet of 8:30 A.M. she was sure it would reach anyone in a mile radius. She glared at it while climbing the few stairs, lugging her bike up alongside. She grabbed the handle, pushed lightly inward ... and the hinges groaned.

"Shit!" she hissed. An answering sound came from inside, and she grimaced.

"Someone's running late," a voice drawled.

She kicked the door open with no more attempt at subtlety. No bell jingled by the door, but a cheap set of wind chimes clinked as a breeze filtered in. Apart from that chime, there wasn't much decoration to be had. The place looked like it had once been a candy shop, with a long counter along three sides of the room, wood on top but glass below to display shelves there. All these shelves and the majority of the countertop were cluttered with glass bottles, tubes, and flasks. Some were held by wiry frames, others suspended above open flame, still others connected by a myriad of tubes, the entire contraption being called "the Kin system." Throughout the maze of glass, golden liquid simmered and frothed. Odds and ends were strewn about in the clear spaces, lingering close enough to the Kin to blacken, or spread amid the glass-encased shelves: papers, a stray fountain pen, small clips and fasteners. Behind the glass sat a large metallic briefcase, long lengths of wire, tools, and a mess of mismatched objects and papers. Four rickety stools were scattered about in the open space between door and counter; on the right wall hung black drapes, and in the back wall was a closed door. It was warm in the room, the bottles and flasks hissing and steaming around her and making the heat even worse than it was outside.

Her boss sat on a stool just behind the Kin machine. He looked at her through the steam, partially obscured and in a position to block the drapes, as was his wont. No wonder Laura hadn't seen him through the windows. Clae Sinclair was fairly young to be running his own business. Laura didn't know his exact age, but he couldn't be any older than thirty. His face was arranged in a look of nigh-permanent bored tranquillity, though when he was angry, it showed in his eyes. He bore three small scars on his face: two on the rise of his left cheekbone, one above his eyebrow; other scars marred his hands and lurked out of sight under his sleeves. Otherwise he was fairly attractive, shorter than the average man, with dark hair curled loosely to frame his face and hanging about halfway down his neck. His eyes were nearly as dark. On the job Laura had heard some other women twittering loudly about his looks, but for her he held all the appeal of a flowering cactus.

While he practically teemed with quirks, there was one so intertwined with his existence that it seemed just as ingrained as all his scars: the black drapes he sat in front of. No one was permitted to venture beyond them or even catch a glimpse of whatever was there. He guarded these drapes with a zeal hard to detect but terrifying to witness the scarce times it hit full force, and this had garnered the attention of some neighbors (who of course talked, and the whole thing was distorted and spread). When people weren't talking about his attitude or latest stunts, they muttered about black curtains. What could he be hiding? A treasure, a monster, an heirloom? Nothing at all? Could it be the cause of his madness? It was rumored that he killed someone who tried to get behind those drapes. The one time someone had mentioned it to his face he'd smiled — actually smiled — and snapped his pocket watch closed with the most menacing click Laura had ever heard. This was the only "proof," so it remained only jeering hearsay. These simple scraps of fabric were the eternal conundrum of the neighborhood. Laura didn't know what was there, and was somewhat obsessed with the mystery herself.

Laura took her sweet time leaning her bike against the only open wall and taking a seat.

"Good morning," she muttered.

Clae didn't reply, just looked at her with that same blank expression. The flasks and tubes continued to spit, and smoke wreathed around him to make a halo above his head.

"I'm not going to make excuses."

"I wouldn't listen to them anyway."

Of course not. "Sorry."

"Don't let it happen again. This job is time-sensitive. There's a reason we have hours."

Laura knew time was important, and the implication that she didn't made her fist her hands in her lap. She tried not to make any other sign of anger, though. She hoped one day she'd master the same serenity Clae had, so when she was angry it carried that much more weight.

"Right. What are we doing today?"

"There's an infestation in the Second Quarter," he replied, finally taking his eyes off her to look at the pseudo chemistry lab around them. "Judging by the description in the report, it's been working away for nearly two months now."

"Two months?" Laura felt her face pale. She'd never encountered a monster that strong.

"It seems to have taken root in a house, eaten the insides."

"And the people inside?"

"I did just say it ate the insides."

Laura felt nauseous. "How big is it, exactly?"

"It's overtaken the entire house, and Second Quarter houses are usually much larger than the Third ones."

"Damn," she breathed.

Clae slid off his stool and pulled the briefcase from under the counter, setting it on his vacated seat. He stalked around the room, picking up little glass and metal containers, tipping some golden mixture from the Kin into them. These he snapped into corresponding slots in the briefcase. As he did this he spoke, and Laura paid rapt attention.

"All entrances to the building will probably be sealed off, so the creature can hide from the light. It took advantage of the early morning to bulk up its defenses."

She remembered another time with only a month's growth, where tables were pressed to the windows and couldn't be moved.

"We'll have to attack through an entrance it hasn't noticed. We may not be able to use bombs or anything highly destructive though, as that may damage the root amulet and make the situation worse."

He pulled out one of the...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Tor Trade
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2018
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 1250169275
• ISBN 13: 9781250169273
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 400
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: gpsr@libri.de; gpsr@libri.de; ; Europaallee 1; Bad Hersfeld; 36244; Deutschland