Honor's Paradox (ARC) PDF
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Honor’s Paradox-ARC P.C. Hodgell Advance Reader Copy Unproofed BAEN BOOKS by P.C. HODGELL CHRONICLES OF THE KENCYRATH The God Stalker Chronicles (omnibus containing God Stalk and Dark of the Moon) Seeker’s Bane (omnibus containing Seeker’s Mask and To Ride a Rathorn) Bound in Blood Honor’s Paradox HONOR’S PARADOX This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental. Copyright © 2011 by P.C. Hodgell All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form. A Baen Books Original Baen Publishing Enterprises P.O. Box 1403 Riverdale, NY 10471 www.baen.com ISBN 13: 978-1-4516-3762-5 Cover art by Clyde Caldwell Maps by P.C. Hodgell First Baen printing, December 2011 Distributed by Simon & Schuster 1230 Avenue of the Americas New York, NY 10020 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data t/k 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 Pages by Joy Freeman (www.pagesbyjoy.com) Printed in the United States of America I would like to thank all the fine folk who have responded to my LiveJournal entries at http://tagmeth.livejournal.com with everything from literary criticism to encouragement to information on parasitical fish. A special thanks to those who have given me permission to use their poetry in the current work: Tiel Aisha Ansari—“Massacre at Gothregor” Cindy Duckert—“Shwupp” Ry Herman—“What the Dead Know” Paul Howat—“Ashe’s Limerick” Paula Lieberman—“The Three Lordans” Scott Life—“The Highlord Calls” CHAPTER I Songs in the Night Winter 64 I “Gerridon Highlord, Master of Knorth, a proud man was he. The Three People held he in his hand—Arrin-ken, Highborn, and Kendar—by right of birth and might.” The Tentir cadets listened intently as the haunt singer Ashe limped back and forth before the great hall’s fireplace. Flames outlined her black-robed form. A hood overshadowed her face, but they caught glimpses of its haggard lines as she turned. She chanted hoarsely rather than sang and accompanied herself with a small lyre on which she struck chords apparently at random. The song itself was as old as the Fall, three thousand years ago. Some believed every word of it. Others thought that the Singers’ cherished prerogative of the Lawful Lie had played a role in its composition or at least in its transformation over the millennia. So much had been lost in the flight to this world, Rathillien, that much of the past has become garbled. So, at least, many claimed, the Caineron loudest of all. “Wealth and power had he, and knowledge deeper than the Sea of Stars.” This too was old news: so had their lords. The self-styled Highborn had ruled over the lowly Kendar almost without restraint since the withdrawal of the catlike Arrin-ken who had served as their judges and mediators. Some lords were good, others . . . demanding. “The gentle brush of our lord’s whim,” as another old song put it; “The crack of his displeasure.” “But he feared death.” Eyes jerked up at a discordant note and a sudden squawk from Higbert. The tip of Ashe’s little finger had broken off as she struck her lyre and had flipped into the Caineron’s mug of cider. He threw both vessel and contents aside, perhaps by accident into the lap of Gorbel, his lord’s heir. Gorbel retrieved the partial digit and returned it to the singer without comment. “My thanks, Lordan,” said Ashe, pocketing it. “I will sew it back on later.” The cadets watched this transfer intently, reminded, as if any need be, that the haunt singer was herself neither alive nor quite dead. As would-be randon, death was to become a way of life for them, both their own and that of anyone under their command. Would they be strong enough to make such mortal decisions? An honorable death bought freedom—from their lords’ dominion, from their hated Three-Faced God who had set them such an
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