By Lee Arthur Chane
Read or Download Magebane PDF
Similar literary books
The Age of Reason: Being an Investigation of True and Fabulous Theology
AGE OF REitfSON half I it's been my goal, for a number of years previous, to post my suggestions upon faith. i'm good conscious of the problems that attend the topic, and from that attention, had reserved it to a extra complicated interval of existence. T meant it to be the final delivering I should still make to my fellow-citizens of all countries, and that at a time while the purity of the reason that prompted me to it, couldn't admit of a question, even by means of those that may well disapprove the paintings.
The Pregnant Widow (Vintage International)
A riotous, bitingly humorous, and supremely shrewdpermanent novel from one among our so much designated voices within the English language. The yr is 1970, and Keith Nearing, a twenty-year-old literature scholar, is spending his summer season holiday in a fortress on a mountainside in Italy. The Sexual Revolution is in full-swing—a old second of extraordinary opportunity—and Keith and his associates are instantly stuck up in its chaotic, ecstatic throes.
- Fatal Attraction
- A William Butler Yeats encyclopedia
- The political theory of John Wyclif
- Jean Genet
- Maurice Dufault, Vice Principal
Additional info for Magebane
The hallway outside her ran left and right, turning at either end to form the two wings of the manor house that wrapped the central Great Hall in their embrace. There were broad, curving staircases at either end as well, leading down to the main floor. Doors opened only off the side of the corridor where her room was located. The other side of the hall was punctuated by tall, vertical slits, about two hands’ breadth in width, filled with delicate wooden latticework. As Brenna pulled on her coat, she glanced idly down through one of those slits into the Great Hall, expecting to see it empty and dark.
The Moon Ball? ” The mageservant didn’t say a word. Brenna would have been terrified if it had, since it was essentially a marionette, animated by magic and programmed to perform the same rote tasks day after day. Its round wooden face, on which the magical symbol that enchanted it glowed faintly blue, remained half-turned away. For a moment Brenna considered smashing something on the floor—one of the delicate pieces of glass fruit decorating her mantelpiece, perhaps—just to get its attention and watch it scurry to clean up the mess, but as usual, the impulse passed before she acted on it.
Out she went into the snowy rear courtyard, with its own locked gate to the outside world and other doors leading into the manor, one into the kitchen storeroom, one into the dry goods storeroom, and a third into a central hallway that ran to the back of the Great Hall. Over the course of the winter the swirling wind had pushed the snow into deep drifts, some as high as Brenna’s head, all around the walls, but had left the worn cobblestones in the center exposed, though covered with ice. Sometime since she had looked out through the window of her room the snow had stopped falling.