Thirteen Orphans

Thirteen Orphans

4.7 7
by Jane Lindskold

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As evocative and moving as Charles de Lint's Newford books, with the youthful protagonists and exciting action of Mercedes Lackey's fantasies, Thirteen Orphans makes our world today as excitingly strange and unfamiliar as any fantasy realm . . .and grants readers a glimpse of a fantasy world founded by ancient Chinese lore and magic.

As far as college


As evocative and moving as Charles de Lint's Newford books, with the youthful protagonists and exciting action of Mercedes Lackey's fantasies, Thirteen Orphans makes our world today as excitingly strange and unfamiliar as any fantasy realm . . .and grants readers a glimpse of a fantasy world founded by ancient Chinese lore and magic.

As far as college freshman Brenda Morris knows, there is only one Earth and magic exists only in fairy tales.

Brenda is wrong.

A father-daughter weekend turns into a nightmare when Brenda's father is magically attacked before her eyes. Brenda soon learns that her ancestors once lived in world of smoke and shadows, of magic and secrets.

When that world's Emperor was overthrown, the Thirteen Orphans fled to our earth and hid their magic system in the game of mah-jong. Each Orphan represents an animal from the Chinese Zodiac. Brenda's father is the Rat. And her polished, former child-star aunt, Pearl—that eminent lady is the Tiger.

Only a handful of Orphans remain to stand against their enemies. The Tiger, the Rooster, the Dog, the Rabbit . . . and Brenda Morris. Not quite the Rat, but not quite human either.

Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly

Lindskold (Through Wolf's Eyes) delivers an enjoyable but unremarkable series launch. Brenda Morris, an innocent quarter-Chinese college student, is abruptly thrust into the hidden world of the Thirteen Orphans, descendants of magicians who take the forms of Chinese zodiac animals and draw magic from the game of mah-jongg. Brenda fights valiantly against otherworld elements who seek to steal the Orphans' power, but indulges in a painfully juvenile crush on a killer who attacks her father. From a fascinating premise, the narrative stalls repeatedly under the weight of awkward exposition, explanation of magic and mah-jongg and analysis of offscreen events. Stiff, unrealistic dialogue interrupts crisp, clean narrative prose. The only sparkle comes from mysterious assassins Flying Claw and Righteous Drum. After this serviceable setup, readers will mostly hope for the interesting sequel promised by the abrupt conclusion. (Nov.)

Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
VOYA - Bonnie Kunzel
The author of the Firekeeper series introduces a fascinating new fantasy premise with this work. In China's distant past, twelve advisors, each imbued with the spirit of a Chinese Zodiac animal, fled to this world with their emperor, who embodied a thirteenth animal, the Cat. For generations, these Thirteen Orphans kept secret their mystical heritage, which involves drawing magic from the ancient Chinese game of mah-jong. But a new assailant has begun to attack them, stripping them of their animal spirits, their magic, and all knowledge of who and what they once were. Brenda Morris, heir to the Rat, is assisting her father in his investigation of an old friend's disappearance when he becomes the next victim. Brenda recognizes the embodiment of the Tiger in the young man who attacked her father. Rather than calling the police, she turns to another tiger for help, the ancient one embodied by her aunt. Brenda is able to take her father's place by calling upon unheard of powers for an untrained heir. Assisted by the few remaining orphans who are still intact, she manages to capture her father's assailant by turning the spell he casts back on him. By the time his memory returns, Brenda is more than halfway in love with him, but the battle is just beginning. Fans of Charles De Lint and Jim Butcher will enjoy this intricate, beautifully written urban fantasy and will wait impatiently for the next installment. Reviewer: Bonnie Kunzel
Library Journal

When 19-year-old Brenda Morris witnesses what appears to be a magical attack against her father, she uncovers the secret history of her family and 12 others, each former inhabitants of the world of Smoke and Shadows and now exiled to Earth after the overthrow of their emperor. The Thirteen Orphans, as the exiles and their descendants are called, are named after the houses of the Chinese Zodiac plus the Cat, and the ancient Chinese game of mah-jongg hides their magic, which must be recovered before Orphans are destroyed and their way home closed forever. This new series launch by the author of the "Firekeeper" series (e.g., Through Wolf's Eyes) deftly mingles the fascination of the mah-jongg tiles and the animal lore of the Chinese Zodiac with a modern tale of discovery and danger. This urban fantasy should appeal to fans of Charles de Lint and Jim Butcher and is an excellent choice for most libraries.

—Jackie Cassada
School Library Journal

Adult/High School

Nineteen-year-old Brenda Morris lives a comfortable life bounded by a loving family, good friends, and her college studies. One summer night, though, after a young man dressed like a Chinese warrior attacks her father and uses magic to alter his memories, Brenda learns that she is descended from one of 13 nobles who fled another world to seek refuge on Earth. Now, after almost a century, the heirs of those exiles are under attack. Brenda joins with a handful of other descendants in a desperate attempt to save their heritage. Yet she also finds herself drawn to the attacker. Who is friend, and who is foe? Lindskold has created a convincing tale of a young woman entering adulthood, assuming responsibility for herself and for others, and making sometimes-wrenching decisions. Action is brisk in the first and last thirds of the book, while the middle concentrates on developing relationships between the characters and providing background information. The story is nevertheless an attention-grabber throughout. It ends with questions and conflicts still unresolved, while the unexpected arrival of a new character sets up the next book in what promises to be an engrossing series. Recommend this one to teens who enjoy urban fantasies by authors such as Charles de Lint, Jim Butcher, or Lilith Saintcrow.-Sandy Schmitz, Berkeley Public Library, CA

From the Publisher
"Lindskold is a writer with strong world building skills and a knack for intricate yet comprehensible plots." —Romantic Times BOOKreviews

"Exhilarating. Exciting." —Publishers Weekly (starred review) on Wolf Captured

Product Details

Tom Doherty Associates
Publication date:
Breaking the Wall Series, #1
Edition description:
First Edition
Product dimensions:
4.14(w) x 6.80(h) x 1.10(d)
Age Range:
14 - 18 Years

Read an Excerpt

Thirteen Orphans

By Jane Lindskold

Tom Doherty Associates

Copyright © 2008 Jane Lindskold
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4299-3631-6


Brenda Morris shifted uneasily in the passenger seat of the car her father had rented at the airport.

"Move the seat back if you're not comfortable," her father said without removing his gaze from the road. "The manual is in the glove compartment if the controls don't make any sense."

Obediently, Brenda pulled out the manual and leafed through the glossy pages, but her discomfort was something other than physical. Indeed, the car seat was comfortable to the point of ridiculousness, the result of a double upgrade her father had finagled at the rental counter. He was good at things like that. The strange thing was that people always liked Gaheris Morris, even when he'd just taken advantage of them.

Brenda's mother frequently said her husband and her eldest were alike in their ability to make people like them. Although she always said this with a smile, the comparison usually made Brenda uncomfortable. It didn't seem quite right that people should admire you for being smart enough to take advantage of them.

Brenda slid the manual back into the glove compartment, and leaned back in the seat without making any adjustments.

Her father glanced over at her.

"It's all right if you change the seat, Breni."

"I'm fine."

He shrugged one shoulder and turned his attention back to the road. "If you say so. I just can't figure out where you put all that leg. You seem to grow an inch every couple of months."

"Not quite every." She laughed. "Actually, I'm not growing nearly as fast as I did in high school. I did need to buy new jeans last week."

"I know." Her father gave a mock sigh of exasperation. "I saw the credit-card bill."

I just wish the rest of me would catch up with my legs, Brenda thought. I'm tired of being flat-chested. Other girls complain about their hips and big butts, but at least they don't get taken for a boy from the back. I think the only thing that saves me from being embarrassed more often is the length of my hair.

Brenda liked her dad a lot, but she wasn't going to say something like that out loud. He was a man, after all, and he'd probably be embarrassed.

Or worse, he'd say something witty, and she'd be the one to get embarrassed.

So she turned her gaze out the window. She could see enough to know that northern California was a lot different from South Carolina.

My hair wouldn't save me here, she thought as she watched two men with ponytails bike by on a side path. I'd have to wear a skirt all the time, and then I'd look like a stretched-out nine-year-old, or worse, a boy in drag.

"Dad, why are we here?"

"You mean in California, or has the local vibe given rise to existential thoughts?"

Brenda swallowed a grin. She'd tried to ask her father the reason for this trip several times over the preceding week. Gaheris Morris traveled on business a lot, and he hadn't felt the need to take his eldest and only daughter with him on other trips. When he'd gone out earlier to meet with a client, he'd left her back at the hotel, so he wasn't indoctrinating her into the family mercantile business as a prelude to some sort of summer internship.

Each time Brenda had asked, Dad had found a way to put her off or distract her. She wasn't going to let him do it this time, even if that line about existential thoughts was a pretty good one.

"I mean here in California, at this time, heading wherever it is we're heading."

Dad sighed deeply. He drove in silence for a long moment, but Brenda held her breath, refusing to say anything he might use to turn the conversation in another direction. Only after he had navigated a complicated turn did he speak.

"We're going to see an old friend ..." He interrupted himself. "Actually, 'old' isn't the right word. Albert Yu is about my age, mid-forties. 'Friend' isn't exactly right either. We've had plenty of disagreements. How about this: We're going to see someone I've known just about my entire life, and the reason we're going is because I want you to meet him."

"Albert Yu?" Brenda frowned. "I don't think I've ever heard you mention him."

"No ... I probably wouldn't. Like I said, I've known him pretty much all my life, but we ..."

He paused again. Brenda found herself startled to silence by her usually articulate father's strange inability to say whatever it was that was on his mind.

"Brenda," he began again, "humor me, would you? One of the reasons I brought you here was to meet Albert before I talked about him, before I biased you in any way. Just because ..."

He almost visibly bit off his words in midstream.

"Would you humor me, Breni?"

Brenda had a distinct feeling that she was being "gotten around," the way her dad got around so many people, but what could she do? Besides, seeing Dad so flustered had her flustered. She had to admit that she was now eager to meet this Albert Yu so she could figure out what it was about him that made Dad so edgy.

"Okay," she said, "but I'll hit you up for something later."

"Anything," he promised in the tone that indicated he meant it, "as long as it isn't chocolate."

On that startling note, he fell silent. Except for comments on their surroundings, he maintained that silence for the rest of the drive.

Brenda had no idea what she had expected their destination to be, but a high-class, higher-end, high-tech shopping plaza was not it. The buildings were crafted from exposed steel set with sweeping sheets of tinted glass. Most were smoke grey, but interspersed with these were randomly placed strips of bronze or gold. Roofs rose at odd angles that reminded Brenda of old science-fiction illustrations of cities of the future, yet there was a feeling of "village" about the complex as well, created by meandering paths between buildings, immaculately groomed potted plants, and individual storefronts with signs swinging over their doors.

There was plenty of parking, but Dad didn't pull into any of the available spaces. Instead he guided the rental car down service alleys meant to be overlooked, so that mundanities like trash disposal and stock delivery would never smear this retail paradise.

"Does Albert Yu work here?" Brenda asked as her dad pulled the car into a space near a series of door-lined alcoves.

"He ... does, in a way. He has an office here. Look, sugarplum, no more questions for now, all right?"

Brenda blinked. Her father had stopped calling her "sugarplum" sometime when she was in high school. This Albert Yu must really have him rattled.

"Right, Dad."

When they got out of the car, Dad moved more slowly than usual, checking and double-checking locks, glancing at his watch more than once. When he started moving, though, he strode along swiftly enough that, long legs or not, Brenda had to trot to keep up.

He led the way to one of the door-lined alcoves, and selected the central door. It must have been unlocked, because he was swinging it open almost before Brenda caught up. She had time enough to glimpse the legend "Your Chocolatier" written on the door with gold ink in a thin, elegant script before her father was inside and heading up the stairs.

The stairway was so startling that Brenda could hardly make herself ascend the treads. She'd done her time in retail and knew that elegance rarely extended behind the scenes. Here, however, instead of grey painted metal and harsh lighting was a narrow stairway paneled in ebony. Light so dim that it hardly qualified as such reflected off tiny silver nailheads bordering wall panels and stair treads. When the door at the base of the stairwell swung soundlessly shut behind her, Brenda had the impression that she was walking through the night sky, held up only by the stars.

"Dad?" she said softly.

"Here," he said. "Come on. It's strange, but nothing to be afraid of, pretty even, in its way."

Brenda had to agree. She concentrated on forgetting her surroundings and let her feet carry her up as she would have at home. In moments, she was behind her father, close enough to catch his familiar scent, one that mingled sharp aftershave and the mustard he inevitably slathered on almost anything he ate.

She heard Dad rap his knuckles against the door, but instead of someone coming to answer the door, it swung open of its own accord. Fleetingly, Brenda thought this was another element of the mysterious Mr. Yu's eccentricities. Then her father stepped forward and exclaimed in wordless shock.

Brenda slipped past him and into an office that was, in its own way, as odd as the stairway. She had no attention for the peculiarities of the decor because, like her father's, her attention was riveted by the empty room, and the evidence that it was probably not empty by choice of the occupant.

A table showing what at first glance looked like a mah-jong game in progress dominated the room, as an executive desk might a more usual office. This table had been shoved to one side. It was too large and too heavy to have been knocked over, but some of the tiles had been spilled from the squared-off wall that still stood mostly intact on a cloth at the table's center.

Other pieces of furniture had been moved roughly aside. Papers had spilled from stacks on cabinets to drift on the thick Oriental carpet that covered most of the polished hardwood floor. A chair was shoved into a corner.

Brenda had watched enough television to know that you didn't interfere with a crime scene, so she was almost hurt when her father said sharply, "Don't touch anything!"

Then he pulled out his cell phone, but instead of hitting 911 or Operator or something, he punched in a string of at least ten numbers. She heard the faint sounds of someone answering on the other end.

"Pearl Bright, please," her father said briskly. He waited a moment, then said, "Auntie Pearl?"

His next words, to Brenda's complete astonishment, were in fluid, unmistakable Chinese. She knew that Auntie Pearl — one of her father's oldest friends — was part Chinese, but Dad had never spoken to Pearl Bright in that language before, at least in Brenda's hearing.

Brenda knew enough Chinese to thank a waitress or follow the occasional line of dialogue in a foreign film, but that was it. She recognized the sound, though, because her parents had a fondness for foreign films and always insisted on watching them subtitled. She'd never had the least hint that Dad understood a word of what was being said, but here he was quavering and fluting away like a native.

Deciding she'd had enough of weirdness and miracles, Brenda steadfastly turned her back on her father and tried to figure out what had happened in this room.

She'd thought of the room as an office, because that's what her father had led her to expect, but it was certainly unlike any office she had seen before.

Her first impression had been that the room was windowless, but now she saw that it had windows, front and back. The one in the rear was smoky grey, clearly one of the exterior panels of the building itself. It began about seven feet from the floor, then angled upward sharply to become part of the ceiling for about three feet, before a more standard, solid ceiling took over.

The front window was even stranger. At first glance it was more grey, nearly opaque glass, but as Brenda stared at it, she realized that what she had taken for dim reflections of herself and her father were actually people moving around on the other side. She studied them for a moment before turning to her father.

Gaheris Morris was pocketing his cell phone, his expression mingling concern and relief.

"Dad, there are people out there! A shop, I think."

Dad nodded. "That's right. That's the shopfront for Your Chocolatier, Albert's business."

"He sells candy?"

"He sells candy the way Ferrari sells cars. Your Chocolatier is where movie stars and millionaires buy their Valentine chocolates. Individual truffles can cost twenty dollars or more. A box small enough to fit in your jacket pocket can set you back two hundred dollars."

His tone held respect tempered with something Brenda couldn't quite identify. Resentment? Envy?

"That window," Dad went on, "is one-way glass. There's a control somewhere that makes it almost clear — from this side only."

"I guess he doesn't trust his employees," Brenda said. "I'm not sure I'd blame him. They could eat about five hundred dollars' worth in about two minutes."

"Actually, Albert claims the window is for market research, not spying. It enables him to see what attracts shoppers, what turns them off. Employees are coached to step on a button when prize clients come in. Then Albert can use the window to see who is there, and 'accidentally' come out to greet them."

"He sounds manipulative."

"That's about right," Dad agreed. Again, Brenda caught that odd note in his voice. Dad went on, "I've reached Auntie Pearl. We're in luck. She was in the area today, and thinks she can be here in about twenty minutes or a half hour."

"Dad, why did you call Auntie Pearl?" Brenda asked, her gaze shifting to watch the ghostly forms of the staff going about their business. "Why didn't you call the police?"

"Too soon to call the police," Dad said. "We don't even know if Albert's really missing. He knew I was coming by, but something could have called him away."

Brenda looked at the messed-up office, and thought her father was being disingenuous. Albert Yu clearly valued order accented with a certain amount of beauty. The office walls held the file cabinets one would expect, but they were crafted from dark, polished wood, the fittings in mellow bronze. The wall space above the cabinets was adorned with elegantly simple ink-brush landscape paintings after the Chinese style.

There was an expensive computer workstation, but it was tucked away in a back corner. Cabinet doors were neatly folded to either side. When they were folded shut, the modern era would be gone, hidden behind polished mahogany inlaid with a pattern of cranes worked in mother-of-pearl. Waist-high cabinets that didn't precisely match, but were similar to the computer workstation in their ornate beauty, balanced the file cabinets.

"What are we going to do if someone in the shop buzzes?" she said.

"They won't," Dad said. This time his voice held absolute confidence. "Albert would have told them he was not to be disturbed, not even if the First Lady herself arrived to shop for White House party favors."

"Because we were coming?" Brenda asked, impressed despite herself.

"Because he was doing this," Dad said, sweeping his arm to indicate the mah-jong tiles scattered on the table. "Albert would not have wanted to be interrupted."

Brenda turned her gaze from ghosts in the shopwindow. "Don't tell me he was playing mah-jong by himself! You need at least three players."

"I won't," Dad said, forcing a grin. "I'll let Auntie Pearl explain. Come on. Let's go meet her."

Brenda glared at her father, but she knew she'd get nothing more from him. His gaze had fallen to the scattered tiles on the cloth-covered table. His grin had vanished, and his expression was very, very worried indeed.

Pearl Bright instructed her driver to drop her off at the main entrance of the largest building in the shopping mall that was quite proud to host Your Chocolatier.

By habit more than vanity, she inspected her reflection in the mirrored surface of the smoked-glass door as Hastings moved to hold it open for her. The reflection gave her back an older woman — no doubt of that — but an older woman who still carried herself upright and moved briskly. The elegance of her attire turned heads in this age when casual dress had gone so far that thongs were worn on both feet and backsides, doing, in her opinion, no credit to either.

"Hastings, I will phone when I wish to be picked up."

"Yes, madam," he replied with formality, standing straight as he held open the door.

He didn't tell her he had a book and a lunch in the trunk of the car, but she knew, just as she knew he would find himself a nice spot under some shady tree and spend a leisurely interlude waiting for her call. There were worse jobs, far worse, than chauffeuring a rich former movie star.


Excerpted from Thirteen Orphans by Jane Lindskold. Copyright © 2008 Jane Lindskold. Excerpted by permission of Tom Doherty Associates.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Meet the Author

JANE LINDSKOLD is the bestselling author of the Wolf series, which began with Through Wolf's Eyes and concluded with Wolf's Blood, as well as many other fantasy novels. She lives in Albuquerque, New Mexico.

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Thirteen Orphans 4.7 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 7 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
You will never look at the Chinese Zodiac the same way again.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Enjoyed the book, except for the pfotagonist, which is why I only gave it 3 stars. Brenda's behavior and attitude towards the punk who ensorcelled her fathe is both inexplicable and inexcusable. Shr is utterly shallow and I hated seeing so much of the book through her deluded and self-righteous eyes. All the other characters were great, but she was a sniveling weakling and no heroine at all.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Looks at the box, then sets in it a small silver knife an a not she found.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Lets go to the third resualt pads there
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Purrs a little, then adds another rose and a jar full of fresh-baked mouse cakes, delicious treats.