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249 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1996
"Blade! Let me say how honored I am to be chosen to even touch, let alone carry, such valuable magical items. I'll be telling my grandchildren and great-grandchildren about this! Eh, eh?"Unfunny attempts at comedy are not the worst thing about this book.
"And hopefully even your not-so-great grandchildren, unless they've been sent to bed early, Pryce quipped feebly. Before the barkeep could summon up a forced laugh, Covington continued.
He tried to somersault away, but as he began to dive forward, something hard, heavy, and painful smashed into the back of his head. There was sudden, incredible pressure, and then he felt his brain shift, crashing into the inner side of his forehead.It's like the author was struggling to meet the word count quota. On that note, this book is significantly shorter than the typical FR novel standard by perhaps 15,000-20,000 words. Subpar and under-edited writing quality is not the worst thing about this book.
He felt as if Berridge Lymwich had hit him full with her inquisitrix spell. He was blinded by white. Then the white suddenly swirled with grey. Then black dots emerged from the gathering haze, growing larger and larger until the white was gone and the gray was swallowed up.
Then all was black, and blacker still, until he fell into the blackest pit of all.
Gheevy Wotfirr gave Berridge Lymwich a meaningful look as he passed. The halfling then slipped between the burly Azzoparde Shreders and the shapely Sheyrhen Karkober at the port bow. The inquisitrix looked down the deck to see that the stopped, jowly Matthaunin Witterstaet stood near Dearlyn Ambersong, both of who were watched over by the gaunt Asche Hartov, who lived up to his name by appearing positively ashen.This takes place about a ship captained by Renwick Scottpeter, with a figurehead carved by Minsha Tyrpanninq. Superior Wendchrix Turzihubbard is also aboard. The terrible names are not the worst thing about this book.
