bless her, calls out: “Where is Sautea?”
She leaps onto the platform, ignoring the stairs, makes straight for him, plants herself squarely on his lap and kisses his forehead. “Oh, Uncle,” she says. “I am glad to see you.”
“Where have you been?” he asks, barely able to get the words out past a tightness in his throat.
“Stuck on Ilixa for years. Oh, what a terrible place! We’ve had such adventures—but I will tell everyone later.”
He is about to ask her another question when his poor old brain catches up to his ears. “Arathé,” he says carefully. “Am I imagining things, or can I hear you talk?”
She nods, eyes sparkling. “The reason we dared Ilixa,” she says, “was partly to see if I could recover my voice. And it worked,” she adds unnecessarily, and pokes her tongue out at him.
“Hmm,” Nellas says. “Careful with that old man, girl. Much more happiness and he’ll have to lie down for a week.”
After the dramatic entrances, the rest of the ceremony goes off hitchless, though rather anti-climactically. Anomer, looking every bit the Duke, accepts the sceptre from his father, along with a curious stone in the shape of a woman’s head set on a block of wood. He and Moralye are sworn in as the Duke and Duchess of Roudhos and make the necessary promises. The crowd cheers, but is clearly somewhat distracted by the personnel on the platform.
Sautea’s heart burns in his chest.
Music is played, songs are sung, and there is dancing in the streets, but Sautea has retired his dancing feet and contents himself with tapping them on the wooden platform. When the music is over and the last speech is made, they repair to the Summer Palace and the meal and fellowship waiting for them.
And as dusk falls and a single star rises from the horizon, the gods’ apprentice leads them to the balcony above the city. There he cries, in a loud voice: “Let us take a moment to honour she who triumphed in the War Against the Gods. Rise with me and bow your heads to the one to whom we all owe our lives. Stella Pellwen.”
Kannwar bows his head, and Sautea observes that the gods can indeed weep.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’m a very lucky man. I get to make my hobby into my occupation, I get to entertain people (or perhaps frustrate or anger them) and to work on projects I’m proud of.
These books bearing my name are by no means all my own work. I have received valuable assistance from readers, editors and artists. In particular I wish to thank Dorinda and Iain for reading early drafts, Phillip Berrie for eagle-eyed continuity work, and Nicola O’Shea for outstanding editorial assistance. Nicola gets what I’m trying to do, and she works to a level of detail that puts a real shine on the manuscript. The bits that don’t work for you are probably the bits where I ignored her advice.
I’ve been fortunate to have superb cover art. You can judge these books by their covers, as they are faithful to the feel and detail of the story. My thanks to Greg Bridges and the design team. Less visible but no less important are the hundreds of enthusiastic booksellers who put these books in your hands.
I continue to owe a great debt to Stephanie Smith, my HarperCollins editor. She is patient and perceptive, and ensures I produce my best work. Thanks to all at HarperCollins Voyager Australia and New Zealand for their professionalism.
extras
meet the author
Russell Kirkpatrick’s love of literature and a chance encounter with fantasy novels as a teenager opened up a vast number of possibilities to him. The idea that he could marry storytelling and mapmaking (his other passion) into one project grabbed him and wouldn’t let go. He lives in New Zealand with his wife and two children. Find out more about Russell Kirkpatrick at www.russellkirkpatrick.com.
introducing
If you enjoyed BEYOND THE WALL OF TIME,
look out for
ORCS
by Stan Nicholls
“Look at me. Look at the orc.
“There is fear and hatred in your eyes. To you I am a monster, a skulker in the shadows, a fiend to scare your children with. A creature to be hunted down and slaughtered like a beast in the fields.
“It’s time you pay heed to the beast. And see the beast in yourself. I have your fear. But I have earned your respect.
“Hear my story. Feel the flow of blood and be thankful. Thankful that it was me, not you, who bore the sword. Thankful to the orcs; born