Informationen zum Autor Lynn Flewelling Klappentext With their most treacherous mission yet behind them, heroes Seregil and Alec resume their double life as dissolute nobles and master spies. But in a world of rivals and charmers, fate has a different plan.... After their victory in Aurënen, Alec and Seregil have returned home to Rhíminee. But with most of their allies dead or exiled, it is difficult for them to settle in. Hoping for diversion, they accept an assignment that will take them back to Seregil's homeland. En route, however, they are ambushed and separated, and both are sold into slavery. Clinging to life, Seregil is sustained only by the hope that Alec is alive. But it is not Alec's life his strange master wantsit is his blood. For his unique lineage is capable of producing a rare treasure, but only through a harrowing process that will test him body and soul and unwittingly entangle him and Seregil in the realm of alchemists and madmenand an enigmatic creature that may hold their very destiny in its inhuman hands.... But will it prove to be savior or monster? Leseprobe Chapter One The Stag and Otter seregil balanced precariously atop the shard-lined wall, impatiently scanning the shadowy garden below for his misplaced partner. Alec had been right behind him when he'd shimmied out the library window, or so he'd thought. Everything about this job had taken too long: finding a way in, finding the right room (for which they'd been given the wrong directions), then finding the stolen brooch in question, the possessor of whichone of the most vicious new blackmailers in Rh'mineehad very wisely kept in a casket with several dozen others. Seregil had to scrutinize each one by a lightstone's glow. If he hadn't been so fond of the young lady whose reputation hung on the success of this night's work, he'd have given up the whole damned mess hours ago. Dawn was a faint smudge above the rooftops now. A weak but welcome breeze whispered through the yellowing leaves of the garden below. It tugged at the long, stray strands of dark hair clinging, sweat-plastered, to Seregil's forehead. Summer's heat was lingering into early autumn this year. His thin linen shirt was soaked through and rank under the arms. The swath of black silk across his lower face was sticking to his lips. He just wanted to go home to a bath and clean cool sheets . . . Yet there was still no sign of Alec. "Hey! Where are you?" he called softly. He was about to risk calling out again when he heard a muttered curse from the shadow of a pear tree near the house. "I dropped it," Alec hissed, still out of sight. "Oh, please tell me you're joking!" Seregil whispered back. "Shh! They'll hear you." The telltale scrape of iron against stone came from the nearby kitchen as some early-rising servant stirred up banked coals on a hearth. Seregil climbed down the lime tree they'd used for a ladder, with every intention of collaring Alec and dragging him awayby force if need be. The younger man's dark clothing made him all but invisible in the shadows, except for his blond braid. He'd pulled off his head scarf somewhere along the way and his hair gleamed tellingly over one shoulder as he scrabbled about on hands and knees, searching frantically in the grass. "Leave it!" Stubborn as always, Alec crawled back toward the house instead, frantically brushing his hands over the clipped turf. Seregil was reaching for Alec's braid when the sound of a door opening sent them both flat on their bellies. Neither breathed as a young servant trudged by with reeking pails of night soil, passing within a few feet of where they lay. As soon as he was gone, Alec was on his feet, pulling Seregil up. "Found it! Come on." "Now you're in a hurry?" They ran for the tree. Seregil, the better climber, laced h...

Autorentext

Lynn Flewelling

Klappentext

With their most treacherous mission yet behind them, heroes Seregil and Alec resume their double life as dissolute nobles and master spies. But in a world of rivals and charmers, fate has a different plan....

After their victory in Aurënen, Alec and Seregil have returned home to Rhíminee. But with most of their allies dead or exiled, it is difficult for them to settle in. Hoping for diversion, they accept an assignment that will take them back to Seregil's homeland. En route, however, they are ambushed and separated, and both are sold into slavery. Clinging to life, Seregil is sustained only by the hope that Alec is alive.

But it is not Alec's life his strange master wants—it is his blood. For his unique lineage is capable of producing a rare treasure, but only through a harrowing process that will test him body and soul and unwittingly entangle him and Seregil in the realm of alchemists and madmen—and an enigmatic creature that may hold their very destiny in its inhuman hands.... But will it prove to be savior or monster?

Leseprobe
*Chapter One

The Stag and Otter*

seregil balanced precariously atop the shard-lined wall, impatiently scanning the shadowy garden below for his misplaced partner. Alec had been right behind him when he'd shimmied out the library window, or so he'd thought.

Everything about this job had taken too long: finding a way in, finding the right room (for which they'd been given the wrong directions), then finding the stolen brooch in question, the possessor of which—one of the most vicious new blackmailers in Rh’minee—had very wisely kept in a casket with several dozen others. Seregil had to scrutinize each one by a lightstone's glow. If he hadn't been so fond of the young lady whose reputation hung on the success of this night's work, he'd have given up the whole damned mess hours ago.

Dawn was a faint smudge above the rooftops now. A weak but welcome breeze whispered through the yellowing leaves of the garden below. It tugged at the long, stray strands of dark hair
clinging, sweat-plastered, to Seregil's forehead. Summer's heat was lingering into early autumn this year. His thin linen shirt was soaked through and rank under the arms. The swath of black silk across his lower face was sticking to his lips. He just wanted to go home to a bath and clean cool sheets . . .

Yet there was still no sign of Alec.

"Hey! Where are you?" he called softly. He was about to risk calling out again when he heard a muttered curse from the shadow of a pear tree near the house.

"I dropped it," Alec hissed, still out of sight.

"Oh, please tell me you're joking!" Seregil whispered back.

"Shh! They'll hear you."

The telltale scrape of iron against stone came from the nearby kitchen as some early-rising servant stirred up banked coals on a hearth.

Seregil climbed down the lime tree they'd used for a ladder, with every intention of collaring Alec and dragging him away—by force if need be.

The younger man's dark clothing made him all but invisible in the shadows, except for his blond braid. He'd pulled off his head scarf somewhere along the way and his hair gleamed tellingly over one shoulder as he scrabbled about on hands and knees, searching frantically in the grass.

"Leave it!"

Stubborn as always, Alec crawled back toward the house instead, frantically brushing his hands over the clipped turf. Seregil was reaching for Alec's braid when the sound of a door opening sent them both flat on their bellies. Neither breathed as a young servant trudged by with reeking pails of night soil, passing within a few feet of where they lay.

As soon as he was gone, Alec was on his feet, pulling Seregil up. "Found it! Come on."

"Now you're in a hurry?"

They ran for the tree. Seregil, the better climber, laced his fingers together and gave Alec a one-footed boost up into the lowest branches. Before he could follow, however, he heard a startled gasp behind him. Turning, he found the servant staring straight at him, empty …