The Lark and the Wren
nóv. 1994 · Bardic Voices Bók 1 · Baen Publishing Enterprises
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19 umsagnir
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Um þessa rafbók
A GHOST OF A CHANCE
A voice, an icy, whispering voice, came out of the darkness from all around her; from everywhere, yet nowhere. It could have been born of her imagination, yet Rune knew the voice was the Ghost's, and that to run was to die. Instantly, but in terror that would make dying seem to last an eternity.
"Why have you come here, stupid child " it murmured, as fear urged her to run away. "Why were you waiting here For me Foolish child, do you not know what I am What I could do to you "
Rune had to swallow twice before she could speak, and even then her voice cracked and squeaked with fear.
"I've come to fiddle for you-sir " she said, gasping for breath between each word, trying to keep her teeth from chattering.
The Ghost laughed, a sound with no humor in it, the kind of laugh that called up empty wastelands and icy peaks. "Well, then, girl. Fiddle, then. And pray to that Sacrificed God of yours that you fiddle well, very well. If you please me, if you continue to entertain me until dawn, I shall let you live, a favor I have never granted any other. But I warn you-the moment my attention lags, little girl-you'll die like all the others and you will join all the others in my own private little Hell."
At the publisher's request, this title is sold without DRM (Digital Rights Management).
A voice, an icy, whispering voice, came out of the darkness from all around her; from everywhere, yet nowhere. It could have been born of her imagination, yet Rune knew the voice was the Ghost's, and that to run was to die. Instantly, but in terror that would make dying seem to last an eternity.
"Why have you come here, stupid child " it murmured, as fear urged her to run away. "Why were you waiting here For me Foolish child, do you not know what I am What I could do to you "
Rune had to swallow twice before she could speak, and even then her voice cracked and squeaked with fear.
"I've come to fiddle for you-sir " she said, gasping for breath between each word, trying to keep her teeth from chattering.
The Ghost laughed, a sound with no humor in it, the kind of laugh that called up empty wastelands and icy peaks. "Well, then, girl. Fiddle, then. And pray to that Sacrificed God of yours that you fiddle well, very well. If you please me, if you continue to entertain me until dawn, I shall let you live, a favor I have never granted any other. But I warn you-the moment my attention lags, little girl-you'll die like all the others and you will join all the others in my own private little Hell."
At the publisher's request, this title is sold without DRM (Digital Rights Management).
Einkunnir og umsagnir
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19 umsagnir
Um höfundinn
Mercedes Lackey, author of the bestselling Heralds of Valdemar and Bardic Voices series, began life as a child and has been attempting to rectify that error ever since. Named for actress Mercedes McCambridge, she has been trying with no success to get the Benz automobile authorities to recognize the natural link between her name and theirs, and offer her the use of an M100 or some variety of high-end sports car for gratis. This, too, has had a distinct lack of success. Other than writing she can be found at various times prying the talons of the birds of prey she is attempting to nurse back to health out of her hands, endangering her vision by creating various forms of Art Beadwork, and cross-stitching dragons, gryphons, and other semi-mythological fauna. At the moment, her hair is red, her favorite color is green, and she is covered by various members of her flock of pet parrots, cockatoos and macaws, all of which are trying to help her type8shgalal-akejbejks9ife.
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