Crown Thief (The Tales of Easie Damasco)

Crown Thief (The Tales of Easie Damasco)

David Tallerman

Language: English

Pages: 416

ISBN: 0857662503

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

Meet Easie Damasco: Thief, swindler and lately, reluctant hero.
But whatever good intentions Damasco may have are about to be tested to their limits, as the most valuable - and dangerous - object in the land comes within his light-fingered grasp.  Add in some suicidally stubborn giants, an old enemy with dreams of empire and the deadliest killers in two kingdoms on his heels, and Damasco's chances of staying honest - or even just surviving - are getting slimmer by the hour.
File Under: Fantasy [ Run Easie Run | A Big Help | Not again! | Prince of Thieves ]

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prodigy. Then, as if shaking himself from a dream, he said, "Once we're inside, you do what I tell you. That's my condition." "Agreed." "You take no chances." "Absolutely not, Guard-Captain." He sighed, a sound of utter, wearied defeat. "Then thank you, Marina. It will be a pleasure to travel with you again." Maybe the man was learning after all. Over the next four days, we retraced the route through the Castoval we'd taken so recently – and what seemed a lifetime ago. In one

margins. Whichever it was, I hoped I'd never have to rely on it again. Because Synza wasn't the type to miss twice. I had to get moving. But where? There was little hope of covering my tracks when I'd left a gaping hole in some old woman's roof, and limping and bedraggled, I'd struggle to melt into even the most dishevelled of crowds. If Synza was determined to find me, the best I could hope for was to delay him. I started walking. I'd no particular course in mind, except to move in the

giants would even have waited here. Despite everything I'd learned about them and their society, despite everything I'd witnessed, it was hard to imagine any people could be so bound by tradition. Surely, once a day or two had passed with no sign of Moaradrid and no fresh instructions, they'd have began to question? If not then, surely when the last of Moaradrid's army packed up and left? Alvantes caught up and watched Saltlick and the former chieftain for a while, with obvious irritation.

Ludovoco. Who knew what nest of political vipers we might have stumbled into? Using the tiny portion of my mind still functioning, I heaped Alvantes's belongings into the saddlebag, put both bags back as I'd found them. It was tricky to remember how to walk, but I managed it. I left the cabin, climbed the stairs to the deck. Alvantes gave me a brief glance of suspicion but said nothing. "Shall we go?" I asked. I felt as if I was trying to talk around a mouth full of treacle, but if either

cue, the doors behind me swung open, to clatter against the walls. I'd thought the Patriarch's face had already grown as pale as human features could, so I was pleasantly surprised when he managed to blanch another shade. I probably had the cudgel Alvantes carried to thank for that. I was pleased he hadn't lost the last night's unexpected gift for theatre. "Would an irate guard-captain serve instead?" I asked. I didn't give the Patriarch a moment to even consider replying. "Not good

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