"Katya Reimann - Tielmaran 2-A Tremor in the Bitter Earth" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reimann Katya)

A Tremor In The Bitter Earth
The Tielmaran Chronicles, Book 2
Katya Reimann
1998

ISBN 0-312-86008-0

Fixed page breaks and obvious line breaks.

The Tielmaran Chronicles
Wind from a Foreign Sky
A Tremor in the Bitter Earth

In memory of William Pomerance and L. Parker Lesley Two wise men

Acknowledgments
My first thanks must go to the members of my writersтАЩ group: Paul Ferrari, Ed Seksay, Jill Smith, and
Cecilia Tan. They challenged me, supported me, and didnтАЩt stint their criticism. I owe much to their help.
Second books pose new challenges: thanks also go to Jim Frenkel, my editor, for helping me face
them; and to my agent, Shawna McCarthy, for taking the time to explain.
Other friends were a tremendous support. Leah Bateman, with great humor and patience, put up with
the most.
Lastly, I owe thanks to Tom Doherty. His support helped make this book happen.
тАФK.A.R.




Book One
Prologue
TullierтАЩs first arrow killed the fair-haired knight. His second, loosed as he broke clear of the
brush, took the neatly liveried groom high in the shoulder but did not finish him. That took a third arrow.
By then Corbulo, TullierтАЩs journey-master, already had three kills to the boyтАЩs two, and heтАЩd paralyzed
the serversтАЩ lady with a special black-tipped dart.
тАЬQuickly now!тАЭ Corbulo urged.
The two assassins, novice and journey-master together, rushed down the slight incline to close on
their prey.
Tullier, running full out, quivered with ill-controlled excitement. The ambush had gone so
easilyтАФevery detail, every reaction, anticipated by his master. Smooth as an exercise, steady as a
practiced form, yet here were five corpses on the ground, the tang of blood in the air, and the strange
bedraggled-looking Tielmaran lady, Destra Vanderive, with her tangle of brown hair and her
sun-darkened skin, lying paralyzed against the bole of the great chestnut.
The assassins reached the broad shadow of the chestnut. The big tree where the Tielmarans had
made their picnic had given no shelter, and the ambush had come without warning. That showed in the
blank expressions on the dead knightsтАЩ faces, their empty sword hands.
Destra Vanderive heaved her willow-thin body against the tree, struggling without success to gain her
feet. Her dark eyes were wild with fright. Her younger son, stiff with shock, buried his head in her skirts
and suckled her limp hand, as if hiding his face meant that nothing could harm him.
His brother, a bare handspan shorter than Tullier, met them at the edge of the treeтАЩs shade, brave but
helpless.