By David Dalglish
From USA this day bestselling writer David Dalglish
[b]"Prove so you might stand opposed to the darkness and live."
In booklet #4 of the Shadowdance sequence, Haern is the King's Watcher, born an murderer purely to turn into the town of Veldaren's protector opposed to the thief guilds.
When Lord Victor Kane assaults the town, decided to stamp out all corruption, overseas gangs pour in amidst the chaos in an try and overthrow the present lords of the underworld.
And whilst a mysterious killer referred to as the Widow starts off mutilating thieves, paranoia engulfs the town. Haern understands somebody is in the back of the turmoil, pulling strings. If he doesn't discover who -- and shortly -- his liked urban will burn.
Light or darkness: the place will the road be drawn?
Fantasy writer David Dalglish spins a story of retribution and darkness, and an underworld achieving for final energy during this fourth novel of the Shadowdance sequence, formerly published as Blood of the Underworld.
Read or Download A Dance of Shadows (Shadowdance, Book 4) PDF
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Additional resources for A Dance of Shadows (Shadowdance, Book 4)
It was a clear sign of secrets to anyone who saw. This had better be important. ” Seaine’s voice was calm, but her hands still gripped her shawl in fists. She stood very straight, towering over Yukiri, though she was not much above average height herself. “It’s more than a month, almost two, since Elaida came to me, and nearly two weeks since you found Pevara and me. If the Black Ajah knew about me, I would be dead by now. Pevara and I would have been dead before you and Doesine and Saerin ever walked in on us.
Which infuriated her no end, because it let all who saw know she had special reason to be alone with Meidani. Even if the Black Ajah took no notice, and the Light send there was no reason they should, too many sisters spied on other Ajahs these days, and in spite of the Three Oaths, the tales they carried somehow grew in the carrying. With Elaida apparently trying to force the Ajahs into line by brute force, those tales too often resulted in penances, and the best to be hoped for was that you could pretend to have chosen to take it on for reasons of your own.
It might also be useful, if the other camps were as careless, and if no one corrected the mistake. He puffed irritably through his mustaches. If he had been going to fight the besiegers. A glance showed him the wagons halfway back to the Tar Valon Gate with their escort of Guardsmen, the wagon drivers lashing their teams as if pursuit were breathing down their necks. Or maybe it was just the officer with the sash, who was waving his sword over his head for some reason. “There’ll be no dancing today,” he said.