By Glen Cook
Sooner than there has been Black corporation, there has been the Dread Empire, an omnibus assortment the 1st 3 Dread Empire novels: A Shadow of All Night's Falling, October's child and All Darkness Met.
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Extra resources for A Cruel Wind: A Chronicle of the Dread Empire
Soon shoots sprouted. Varth helped with the weeding, planted stakes for the tomatoes, and threw stones at birds threatening the melons. The old woman thought he would make a fine farmer some day. He seemed to have a love for tending life. When summer came and the melons fattened, the tomatoes reddened, and the squash grew into green clubs, Varth helped with the harvesting, packing, and the loading of Royal's wagon. The old woman opposed his return to Ilkazar, but Royal thought he had forgotten.
There another bailiff tried to block their way. Leaning forward to look at their faces, he discovered the naked steel in their hands. " he cried. He scurried back, tried to close the door. But Brock and Turran used their shoulders, burst in over his sprawling form. Jerrad offered him a hand up after planting a boot on his sword. Councilmen panicked. Fat burghers threatened to skewer one another as they scrambled for weapons while retreating to the farthest wall. Their ineffectual guardian joined them.
The plaza was less grim than usual, although, apparently, the boy hadn't come to see the leavings of executions. Looking small and fragile, he studied the Palace's fortifications. As Royal entered the square, Varth started for a postern gate. The sentry there was a gruff-looking, middle-aged veteran who stopped him and asked his business. He was still trying to coax Varth into answering when Royal arrived. "Pardon, Sergeant. I was minding my stall too close. " "Oh, no trouble, no trouble. They'll do that.