By David Dalglish
From USA Today bestselling writer David Dalglish
It's been 5 lengthy years because the urban realized to fear...
In e-book #2 of the Shadowdance sequence, the struggle among the thief guilds and the robust allegiance often called the Trifect has slowly diminished. Now simply the mysterious Haern is left to salary his inner most conflict opposed to the guilds within the guise of the Watcher - a vicious killer who understands no limits. but if the son of Alyssa Gemcroft, one of many 3 leaders of the Trifect, is thought murdered, the slaughter starts anew. Mercenaries flood the streets with one objective in brain: locate and kill the Watcher.
Peace or destruction; each battle should have its end.
Fantasy writer David Dalglish spins a story of retribution and darkness, and an underworld achieving for final power.
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Additional info for A Dance of Blades (Shadowdance, Book 2)
It was a queer thought, unsettling. Suddenly she felt as though she had not known her father at all. “Who is Tansy, my lord? Do you want me to send for her, Father? Where would I find the woman? ” 36 GEORGE R. R. MARTIN Lord Hoster groaned. ” His hand groped for hers. “You’ll have others . . ” Others? Catelyn thought. Has he forgotten that Ned is gone? Is he still talking to Tansy, or is it me now, or Lysa, or Mother? When he coughed, the sputum came up bloody. He clutched her fingers. “. . be a good wife and the gods will bless you .
Tully men did not surrender easily, no matter the odds. After she entrusted the parchment to the maester’s care, Catelyn went to the sept and lit a candle to the Father Above for her own father’s sake, a second to the Crone, who had let the first raven into the world when she peered through the door of death, and a third to the Mother, for Lysa and all the children they had both lost. Later that day, as she sat at Lord Hoster’s bedside with a book, reading the same passage over and over, she heard the sound of loud voices and a trumpet’s blare.
ARYA he sky was as black as the walls of Harrenhal behind them, and the rain fell soft and steady, muffling the sound of their horses’ hooves and running down their faces. They rode north, away from the lake, following a rutted farm road across the torn fields and into the woods and streams. Arya took the lead, kicking her stolen horse to a brisk heedless trot until the trees closed in around her. Hot Pie and Gendry followed as best they could. Wolves howled off in the distance, and she could hear Hot Pie’s heavy breathing.