Rules of Ascension: Book One of Winds of the Forelands
David B. Coe
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
But though most Qirsi live normal lives, and some even serve lords as advisors, all is not well in the realm. There is a Weaver in the Forelands again, secretly sowing seeds of rebellion against the physically hardier but unmagical Eandi.
Lord Tavis of Curgh, raised to succeed his father as duke, and engaged to the beautiful Lady Brienne of Kentigern, seems bound for greatness. But just as his life seems complete, he is accused of a horrific act. Little can Tavis know that the Weaver is using him as a pawn in a vast plot.
Now, only a Qirsi gleaner can help Tavis survive his doom, reclaim his good name, and prevent a devastating civil war in the Forelands.
fit through. It would have been easier as well to merely shatter the grate with one push of power, but Grinsa was right: if they didn’t repair the grate, Tavis’s escape might be discovered too soon. As first minister to the duke of Curgh, Fotir was valued as much for his wisdom and his knowledge of Eibithar and the other kingdoms of the Forelands as he was for his Qirsi abilities. Occasionally, a dream offered him some glimpse of the future that he shared with Javan, and one could claim that his
than the duke knew. “I want nothing one way or another,” she said at last. “If by going to Kentigern the duke can prevent a civil war, then by all means he should go. But only if the danger to him isn’t too great.” She gave a thin smile. “That’s why I told him to speak with you, swordmaster. Who better to decide what’s safe for him and what isn’t?” “Do you think this message is a trick of some sort?” Kearney asked, forcing them both to look at him again. “It bothers me that isn’t signed,”
Xaver felt far less certain of this, but he wasn’t about to say so to his duke or the soldiers. After trying one or two keys, the man opened the duke’s door, eyeing Javan with just a touch of fear, as if he expected the duke to attack him immediately. “We’ll need our weapons as well,” Javan said, stepping into the corridor. The guard opened the door to Fotir and Xaver’s chamber before facing the duke again. “I don’t know where they are, my lord,” he said. “Then any weapons will do.” The
that you keep such company.” Fotir grinned and inhaled the sweet smoke of the Uulranni pipeweed. “He’s hardly a friend. And I give my duke no reason to doubt my loyalty.” “That’s very wise. I’m much the same way.” The minister took a long breath. “I will admit, though: there are times I wish I could live in a Qirsi kingdom, serving a Qirsi lord.” The minister smiled at Fotir’s expression. “You find my candor unsettling, cousin?” “I guess I should find it refreshing,” Fotir said, smiling as
said nothing; her expression didn’t even change. She just stared at him. Yet Tavis felt as though she were screaming at him, calling him a butcher, imploring Bian to torment him for the rest of time. When finally she looked away and walked out of sight, he sagged. Had the guards not been holding him, he would have fallen to the floor. “Come on,” one of the guards said, shaking Tavis roughly to get him to stand on his own again. The two men started forward, compelling Tavis to do the same.