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561 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 2004








“I am the Deathbringer,” he announced solemnly. “I am the Bringer of Death.”
“Whose death?” Dirk asked curiously.
“I am the Death of Reason. The Death of Enlightenment. Who are you?”
“My name is Dirk Provin.”
“Dirk? Dirk? A dirk is an insignificant blade: too small to be a weapon, too large to be a decent table knife. Just an annoying little poker with grandiose ambitions.”
The prince turned away, his attention already on another guest. Dirk watched him smiling and joking, wondering how such evil could exist in such a splendidly benign figure as Antonov Latanya
Kirsh wasn’t a bad person, he knew, just thoughtless. He didn’t stop to think about the repercussions of anything that he did, which was a dangerous trait in a prince.
To Antonov and Belagren, everything is a game. Before you get too enamored of your new friends, you might want to ask yourself what your role is, because, Dirk Provin, you’re a piece being moved about the board at their whim, just as surely as I am, you can rely on it.”
From the top of the cliffs the world appeared to be bathed in blood. The dawn was ruddy, stained crimson with red sun as it began to set in the west, chased out of the sky by the larger, brighter, yellow sun on the eastern horizon.The scarlet clouds hung heavy and thick and tasted of ash.