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388 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published November 27, 2012












“Her life as a healer was over. Her life as an abomination would be brutal and devoid of sympathy or warmth, but probably short. It would be worth it, she told herself. If no other child ever had to cry the way Tulip had because the slavers had taken someone from her, it would be worth it.”② Richard Mar aka The Hunter.
“Come,” he invited. She stared at him, her eyes wide. “You want it different. Come, make it different.” “Me?” “You.”Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!! ← this is me dying. Just so you know.
“Pavel clenched up, gagged, holding it in . . . The cough exploded out of him in a gush of red. Blood burst from his nose and the corners of his mouth. The slaver dropped to all fours, retching. A clump of something wet, soft, and bloody fell out of his mouth. Across from Pavel, at the other side of the fire, another man collapsed, coughing and bleeding. Voshak roared. His voice caught, he sneezed and stared at his hand, covered with red mist and tiny chunks of flesh. The slavers fell, as if cut down at once by an invisible sickle.”④ The coolest kids ever.
“What the hell did you do?” Jack shrugged. “I stole a fish.” “Why?” “I was hungry. And bored. But mostly hungry.” Jack spread his arms. “Look, I took one small fish, then the guy started screaming, so I slapped him with it. It wasn’t my fault he tripped and fell into a stall of fruit. So I laughed, and they all started chasing me.” “And so you had this pissed-off mob chasing you. Why did you lead them my way?” Jack widened his eyes in mocking sincerity. “Because you needed a bath.”⑤ My Kaldar Mar.
“Some children are born wearing a silk shirt; you were born wrapped in melancholy. When they slapped you to make you cry, you just sighed heavily and a single tear rolled from your eye.” He dragged his finger from the corner of his left eye to his cheek. “Your first words were probably ‘woe is me.’” “My first words were ‘Kaldar, shut up!’ because you talked too much. Still do.”✨ That’s it ✨







"He was staring. All of his years as an adult male had vanished, wiped away as if they never existed, and he was a teenage boy again, awkward and dumbstruck. He gaped at her, unable to glance away, unable to make a sound, unable to do anything but stare.
He wanted her. She was an erotic dream."
That's how the slavers operated. They adopted costumes and personas, trying to make themselves larger-than-life and hoping to inspire fear. They counted on that fear. One could fight a man, but nobody could fight a nightmare.
“I want in,” the boy said.
“In on what?”
“You’re the Hunter. You’re hunting the slavers. I want in.”
“And how would you know that?” If someone had opened their mouth, he would be really put out.
Jack gave a one-shouldered shrug.
“We overhead you and Declan talking.”
“Declan’s study is soundproof.”
“Not to reanimated mice,” Jack said.
She was beautiful and radiant. He remembered the concern in her eyes. The same concern drove her now, pushing her toward acts of violence. On the surface, he'd be a fool to turn her down. She was driven by tragedy, just like him, and she would be incorruptible, just like him. He needed a blade to kill, but she could kill dozens at once empty-handed. She was Death, and she had just asked to be his ally.
"Congratulations" he (Kaldar) said, his voice dry. "You finally managed to find a woman as tragically noble as yourself. I didn't think one existed."