Can you steal from a god?
A witch and a thief tempt fate when they seek a god's power.
It was neither the tang of sea nor the rancidness of rotting fish, garbage and offal that roused me from my doze. Nor was it the creaking of ships at berth, the loading and off-loading of cargo, nor the movement and cries of men. No, it was none of the everyday stench and noise about the quay of Portside, that festering pustule that marks the fair cheek of uVaal, the Splendid City. It was the clinking of coin into my bowl.
"Tell me a story," the stranger said. "They say that you know of the Eyes of Gaal."
"Only thieves seek the Eyes of Gaal and their fate. Sit, and listen."
It was the night of Full Sail, the month of the Squid, when the danger of Typhoon had passed. Revelers filled the streets of Ospraa By The Sea, the only city of the Isle of Muuta, whose name means death. . . .
|Publisher:||R. E. Conary|
|File size:||177 KB|
About the Author
I write many types of stories but mainly gritty, hard-boiled novels about private detective Rachel Cord. She's a what-you-see-is-what-you-get woman who's not afraid to take chances or make mistakes and is willing to let the reader into her darkest moments as well as her accomplishments. It's her openness, more than anything, that makes her different from other hard-boiled characters. She holds nothing back. I've always liked PI stories. There's a crime to solve that invites reader participation. The main characters are mostly mavericks who won't be pigeonholed. The stories are usually first-person POV. What you see is what you get. It's the type I enjoy most as a reader. And Rachel plays fair with her readers--they know everything she does--letting them solve the mystery as quickly--often more quickly--as she does. I wanted a modern-day Cyrano de Bergerac to stride through Raymond Chandler's mean streets taking on any odds, yet humanly flawed and tender within. I got a lesbian James Rockford. Rachel's much like those tough independent women I enjoyed on afternoon TV: Hepburn, Dietrich, Roz Russell, Jean Arthur, Bette Davis, Joan Crawford. And also my mother who worked in a man's profession, yet kept her feminine side, and liked her humor served dry with a wry twist. My influences include J. A. Jance, Lawrence Block, John D. MacDonald, Stephen J. Cannell, Edmond Rostand, Raymond Chandler, Fritz Leiber, Keith Laumer, Aristophanes, Walt Whitman, Chekov, Kafka, Hemingway, Steinbeck...my list is endless because every author, whether I've read his or her works or not, whether I liked his or her works or not; every writer, every scribe, who ever typed, penned, incised a word, a line, are as much a part of me, my DNA, as the Conarys, Dames, Longs, Fullers, Cousins, Chiltons on back to that first amoeba that tweaked to life in the long forgotten primordial ooze.