Juliet Marillier - Heart's Blood
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- Название:Heart's Blood
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
chapter one
chapter two
chapter three
chapter four
chapter five
chapter six
chapter seven
chapter eight
chapter nine
chapter ten
chapter eleven
chapter twelve
chapter thirteen
chapter fourteen
chapter fifteen
Summer
About the Author
ALSO BY JULIET MARILLIER
THE SEVENWATERS NOVELS
Daughter of the Forest
Son of the Shadows
Child of the Prophecy
Heir to Sevenwaters
SAGA OF THE LIGHT ISLES
Wolfskin
Foxmask
THE BRIDEI CHRONICLES
The Dark Mirror
Blade of Fortriu
The Well of Shades
FOR YOUNG ADULTS
Wildwood Dancing
Cybele’s Secret
ROC
Published by New American Library,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700,Toronto,
Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)
Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
Penguin Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2,
Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)
Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell,
Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)
Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre,
Panchsheel Park, New Delhi - 110 017, India
Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632,
New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)
Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue,
Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa
Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices:
80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
Published by Roc, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
Previously published in a Macmillan Publishers Australia Pty. Ltd. edition.
First Roc Printing, November 2009
Copyright © Juliet Marillier, 2009
Calligraphy by Gaye Godfrey-Nicholls of Inklings Calligraphy Studio
All rights reserved
REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data:
Marillier, Juliet.
Heart’s blood/Juliet Marillier.
p. cm.
eISBN : 978-1-101-14924-9
I.Title
PR9619.3.M26755H43 2009
823.‘.92—dc22 2009022217
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
http://us.penguingroup.com
To Saskia and Irie,
with love
Acknowledgments
Gaye Godfrey-Nicholls of Inklings Calligraphy Studio provided expert guidance on all aspects of scribing. John Aris helped me with the Latin invocation. The members of my writers’ group assisted me through this book’s bumpy road to completion, sharing practical advice, moral support and strong coffee. My multiskilled family helped with everything from brainstorming to proofreading. My editors, Anne Sowards at Penguin, Julie Crisp at Tor UK, and Mary Verney at Pan Macmillan Australia, worked cooperatively to produce a single editorial report, making my life much easier. My agent, Russell Galen, continued to provide excellent support. A big thank you to all.
The characters and events in this book are fictitious
and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
chapter one
at a place where two tracks met, the carter brought his horse to a sudden halt.
“This is where you get down,” he said.
Dusk was falling, and mist was closing in over a landscape curiously devoid of features. Apart from low clumps of grass, all I could see nearby was an ancient marker stone whose inscription was obscured by a coat of creeping mosses. Every part of me ached with weariness.“This is not even a settlement!” I protested. “It’s—it’s nowhere!”
“This is as far west as your money takes you,” the man said flatly. “Wasn’t that the agreement? It’s late. I won’t linger in these parts after nightfall.”
I sat frozen. He couldn’t really be going to leave me in this godforsaken spot, could he?
“You could come on with me.”The man’s tone had changed.“I’ve got a roof, supper, a comfortable bed. For a pretty little thing like you, there’s other ways of paying.” He set a heavy hand on my shoulder, making me shrink away, my heart hammering. I scrambled down from the cart and seized my bag and writing box from the back before the fellow could drive off and leave me with nothing.
“Sure you won’t change your mind?” he asked, eyeing me up and down as if I were a prime cut of beef.
“Quite sure,” I said shakily, shocked that I had been too full of my woes to notice that look in his eye earlier, when there were other passengers on the cart. “What is this place? Is there a settlement close by?”
“If you can call it that.” He jerked his head in the general direction of the marker. “Don’t know if you’ll find shelter. They’ve a habit of huddling behind locked doors at night around here, and with good reason. I’m not talking about troops of armed Normans on the road, you understand, but . . . something else.You’d far better come home with me. I’d look after you.”
I slung my bundle over my shoulder. On the tip of my tongue was the retort he deserved: I’m not so desperate , but I was not quite brave enough to say it. Besides, with only four coppers left and the very real possibility that pursuit was close behind me, I might soon be reduced to accepting offers of this kind or starving.
I stooped to examine the weathered stone, keeping a wary eye on the carter. He wouldn’t attack me, would he? Out here, I would scream unheard. The stone’s inscription read Whistling Tor . An odd name. As I traced the moss-crusted letters, the man drove away without another word. The drum of hoof beats and the creak of wheels diminished to nothing. I took a deep breath and ordered myself to be strong. If there was a sign, there must be a settlement and shelter.
I headed off along the misty track to Whistling Tor. I had hoped to reach the settlement quite quickly, but the path went on and on, and after a while it began to climb.As I made my way up, I could see through the mist that I was walking into ever denser woodland, the dark trunks of oak and beech looming here and there above a smothering blanket of bushes and briars. My shawl kept catching on things. I wrenched it away with my free hand, the other holding tight to my writing box. I stumbled. There were odd stones on the path, pale, sharp-edged things that seemed set down deliberately to trip the unwary traveler.
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