Amber and Blood (Dragonlance: The Dark Disciple, Book 3) by Margaret Weis

By Margaret Weis

The darkish Disciple's tale, now complete!

In this paperback version of the concluding quantity of the darkish Disciple trilogy, Mina learns the reality approximately herself and the negative wisdom drives her insane. Rhys, the monk of Majere, followed through his puppy Atta and the kender Nightshade, is given the harmful project of guarding the crazed god, escorting her on an extended, unusual trip to the mysterious position referred to as Godshome, the place Mina hopes to discover the reply to the riddle of her life. Their course is fraught with peril, for the undead cherished have the desire to make Mina their chief, whilst the loss of life knight Krell desires to grab her and Galdar attempts to convey Mina to her so much hated enemy.

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The carriage crossed the river at nightfall and began a mile-long gentle ascent that ended at Budwiel’s gate. The wind picked up and seemed to blow right through the carriage walls. Erika put her head out the window and looked toward the dots of light that marked the city walls. Soon they’d be in Adro and beyond the influence of Nikslaus and his Longdogs. They would finally be safe. She looked toward Norrine. The girl slept soundly in the corner of the carriage, wrapped in furs. She stirred and let out a whimper.

The old driver had taken a bullet in the arm, but it had missed the bone and she managed to dig it out with her knife. Treating bullet wounds wasn’t common to a noblewoman’s tutoring, but Santiole had taught her enough. Erika was forced to push Santiole and Tirel in a ditch and cover them with snow, with the hope of recovering the bodies come spring. For Duglas and his companions, she dragged their bodies over two hundred yards and dumped them into a deep crevasse, along with Duglas’ infernal air musket.

She asked. She shook violently, and the hands kept their grip until she was able to calm down. Lord Pensbrook, her father, eventually stepped away from her and she took the chance to look around. She was in the sitting room of the family’s Budwiel townhouse. Father stood beside her, wearing only his pajamas. He was a tall man with a broad chest and a neatly trimmed, black goatee. “It’s me, my dear,” father said, taking her by the hand. ” The corners of his eyes wrinkled in concern. “Your father carried you inside.

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