A Distant Magic (Guardians, Band 3) - Softcover

Buch 3 von 3: The Guardian Trilogy

Putney, Mary Jo

 
9780345476920: A Distant Magic (Guardians, Band 3)
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0345476921 ISBN 13: 9780345476920
Verlag: Del Rey, 2008

Inhaltsangabe

Mary Jo Putney’s passionate, vivid characters and captivating stories have earned enthusiastic acclaim from reviewers and readers everywhere. Now the New York Times bestselling author weaves a new tale in the Guardian series–a dazzling romantic fantasy that takes readers not only from the elegant streets of London to a dangerously tempting Mediterranean island but across time.

Jean Macrae’s family is one of the most prominent clans of Guardians, humans whose magical powers come from nature, but Jean considers her skills modest at best. She has never been able to summon the intense, earth-altering ability that has marked the most talented Guardians, and she is content without the adventure that such skill brings . . . until the day she is confronted by a handsome stranger whose magic imprisons her on his pirate ship.

Captain Nikolai Gregorio is convinced that Jean’s father abandoned him, as a child, to slavers. Now he seeks vengeance against the Macraes, no matter the cost. But Jean soon finds his untrained magical gifts far more dangerous than his thirst for revenge, especially when they intensify her own powers to an unthinkable–and enticing–degree. And when Jean and Nikolai’s irresistible connection summons a woman from the future, they are charged with a formidable task: protect those who will oppose slavery’s evil and forever change the future of two nations. This quest will sweep Jean and Nikolai into the most fantastic of realms and try their powers beyond even what the Guardians themselves would dare. And when ultimate disaster threatens, they will stake everything on a shattering test of love that could secure the fate of generations . . . or destroy them and all they cherish.


From the Hardcover edition.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

A New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and Publishers Weekly bestselling author, Mary Jo Putney is a graduate of Syracuse University with degrees in eighteenth-century literature and industrial design. The author of more than two dozen novels, Putney has been a nine-time finalist in the Romance Writers of America RITA contests, and has won two RITAs, four consecutive Golden Leaf Awards for Best Historical Romance, and the Romantic Times Career Achievement Award for Historical Romance. Her books have been listed four times by Library Journal as among the top five romances of the year. Putney lives near Baltimore, with her nearest and dearest, both two- and four-footed. Visit the author’s websites at www.mjputney.com and www.maryjoputney.com.


From the Hardcover edition.

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Chapter 1

Valletta, Island of Malta

Autumn 1733

The two foreign gentlemen strolling through Valletta’s market square looked like they had pockets worth picking. Nikolai quietly shadowed them through the crowds, knowing they would never

notice a boy his size in the noisy throng. A dozen or more lan-

guages babbled above his head. He recognized all of them, and could make himself understood in most. Valletta was the crossroads of the Mediterranean, a place where Europe, Africa, and Asia met and exchanged their goods.

The men had the pale coloring of northern Europeans. When Nikolai got close enough to hear their conversation, he found that they spoke in English. That was one of his better languages, since his mother had had a taste for English sailors.

Other foreigners roamed the market, but these two had the air and garments of wealth—and they were fool enough to walk alone, with no guards. They’d be lucky to get back to their ship with the clothes still on their backs.

Nikolai followed the men, slipping behind a tethered donkey cart to get closer to his quarry. His talent for going unnoticed had enabled him to keep from starving in the years since his grandmother’s death, though he seldom managed to be well fed.

The taller Englishman, a powerfully built fellow whose dark red hair was heavily streaked with gray, stopped to admire the silver trinkets of a local peddler. He lifted a pair of lacy filigree earrings. “My wife will like these, I think.”

“We saw better in Greece, Macrae,” his companion observed. He was shorter and younger, with a wiry build and a dandy’s taste in clothing. “Tell me again why you were so keen to stop in Malta.”

“Worth it to walk on land again for a day or two.” Having reached an agreement with the peddler, Macrae paid for two pairs of silver earrings. “Besides, I felt there was something, or someone, worth meeting here.”

“Unlikely!” the other man snorted.

Nikolai paid little heed to the conversation, apart from gratitude that it engaged his quarry’s attention. As the taller man turned to his companion, Nikolai’s fingers reached into the fellow’s right pocket, light as a butterfly’s wings. Yes, there were coins there. . . .

Suddenly Nikolai’s wrist was caught, and he found himself skewered by piercing gray eyes. Eyes that saw him as no one had since his grandmother died.

He fought to escape, biting Macrae’s hand and jerking free as the man released his grip with an oath. He darted toward a nearby alley. In the rank, twisting backstreets of Valletta, he could lose these great clumsy oafs in no time.

The short man snapped several unintelligible words. The air tingled oddly, and suddenly Nikolai’s limbs didn’t work. Though he wanted to run, he could barely manage to hold himself upright. He fell against the bricks of the alley wall, his breathing rough. He hadn’t felt so weak since he’d almost died of the fever that killed his mother.

Macrae entered the alley and placed his hands on Nikolai’s shoulders, then knelt so their eyes were on the same level. “We mean you no harm,” he said in fair Italian.

Nikolai spat at him, but somehow missed his mark. Macrae frowned. “He doesn’t seem to understand Italian,” he said in English. “I wish I knew that dog Arabic the locals speak.”

Nikolai didn’t bother spitting again, since it had done no good, but he growled like a mongrel. Dog Arabic indeed! Malti was the ancient tongue of the Phoenicians. Since it had never been trapped in an alphabet, it was the private speech of Malta, a mystery to stupid foreigners like this one.

The short man, who stood behind Redhead, said drily, “Are you sure you want to converse with a rabid pup like this?”

Macrae stood, releasing his grip on Nikolai’s shoulders. “Look at him with the sight, then ask me that again.”

The short man’s eyes narrowed for a moment, then opened wide. “Good God, the boy blazes with power! When he comes of age, he’ll be a formidable mage.”

“If he lives long enough and receives the proper training,” Macrae said grimly. “From the looks of him, he’s halfway to starvation.”

“Don’ talk ’bout me as if I’m no’ here!” Nikolai blurted out. “Rude!”

“The creature speaks English,” the short man said with amazement. “His accent is abominable, but he’s fluent enough.”

“He’s not a ‘creature,’ ” Macrae said irritably. “He’s a boy, probably younger than my Duncan. He’s one of us, Jasper. His power has a different flavor from any I’ve known, but it’s real and has great potential.”

“African blood, perhaps,” Jasper murmured. “There is some of that in his face and coloring as well as in the flavor of his magic.”

Nikolai’s strength was returning, but he was still trapped between the two men. Why was no one noticing this scene? People walked by in the square just a few feet away and didn’t even glance in the alley.

Mage. One of them had used the word. His grandmother had said it meant wizard or witch doctor. They’d used magic to trap him, then to ensure that no one looked their way. He scrunched his mind up like Nona had showed him and dived under Macrae’s arm in another bid for freedom.

A hard hand caught him again. “Look at that, Jasper! The boy has shields strong enough to make him disappear from mage sight!”

“Either he’s had training, or he learned that to survive,” Jasper said thoughtfully. “I begin to share your interest. But what’s to be done with a wild lad like this one?”

“Let’s start by feeding him.” The tall man caught Nikolai’s gaze. “I’m Macrae of Dunrath and this is Jasper Polmarric. You have always known you were different, haven’t you?”

Nikolai debated lying before giving a reluctant nod.

Macrae continued, “We are also different in the same way you are. Or similar, anyhow. Among our duties is to help others of our sort when there is need. At the least, you stand in need of a good meal. Will you join us? If you look at me with your mind, you’ll know I mean no harm.”

Nikolai had always been good at reading intentions, and he sensed no desire to hurt, but there was more than one kind of assault. “Won’ be your whore!”

Instead of anger, Macrae smiled. “I have no interest in dirty little boys. Except when they have the potential you do. Is there a tavern where we can get a good meal and talk in privacy?”

Nikolai nodded and led the two men through the alleys, emerging by the best tavern on the waterfront. It looked over the Grand Harbor and was a favored place for ship’s officers and merchants. Of course he’d not eaten there himself, but he sometimes scavenged leavings at the back door.

The landlord scowled when he saw Nikolai enter, but the obvious wealth of the Englishmen saved him from being thrown out. Jasper paused to order food and drink while Macrae escorted Nikolai to a quiet booth in the far corner of the taproom. Nikolai didn’t like being herded, but tantalizing scents made him willing to tolerate it. He would endure a great deal to feast on the tavern’s best.

Besides, he was curious what these men wanted of him.

Macrae sat on Nikolai’s right, Jasper Polmarric on his left. Though they didn’t crowd him,...

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Verlag
Del Rey
Erscheinungsdatum
2008
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0345476921
ISBN 13 
9780345476920
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
416
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Nicht verfügbar

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