Karen Miller - The Riven Kingdom (The Godspeaker Trilogy)

Books by Karen Miller

Kingmaker, Kingbreaker

The Innocent Mage

The Awakened Mage

The Godspeaker Trilogy

Empress

The Riven Kingdom

Hammer of God

Writing as K. E. Mills

The Accidental Sorcerer

Witches Incorporated

Wizard Squared

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters,places, and incidents are the product of the authors imaginationor are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, orpersons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright 2008 by Karen Miller

Excerpt from Hammer of God copyright 2008 by Karen Miller

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S.Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced,distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in adata base or retrieval system, without the prior written permission ofthe publisher.

Map by Mark Timmony

Orbit

Hachette Book Group

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New York, NY 10017

Visit our Web site at www.orbitbooks.net

Orbit is an imprint of Hachette Book Group, Inc. The Orbit name and logo is a trademark of Little, Brown Book Group Ltd.

First eBook Edition: September 2008

ISBN: 978-0-316-039857

Tim Holman and Darren Nash: my champions!

The super-fantastico Orbit US/UK team: where would I be without you, guys?

Julia Denos, cover artist, and Peter Cotton, designer: you both rock! And Mark Timmony, whos cursed with my maps.

My selfless and dedicated beta readers: Glenda, Mark, Elaine, Pete and Mary.

Ethan, my agent, who copes admirably with this control-freaking writer.

My dear friends, who put up with my extended absences as I write.

The fans whove been so kind to email and say my books have entertained them.

The booksellers who point new readers my way.

Lastly, my parents, who still dont get what it is that I do but continue to support me anyway.

In Memoriam

Robert Jordan, author of the genre-changing Wheel of Timeseries, who departed this world too soon, leaving many broken heartsbehind him.

For Glenda Larke, a great writer

and even greater friend.

T he King of Ethrea was dying.

Rhian sat by her fathers bedside, holding his frail hand inhers and breathing lightly. Her world was a glass bubble; if shebreathed too deeply it would shatter, and her with it.

This isnt fair, this isnt fair, this isnt fair...

Droning in the privy bedchamber corner, the Most VenerableJustinone of Prolate Marlans senior clergy, sentenced topraying for her fathers soul. His shaved head was bowed over hisprayer beads, click-click-clicking through his fingers till she thoughtshe would scream.

I wish youd get out. I wish youd go away. Wedont want you here. This is our time, we dont have somuch that we can share.

She had to bite her lip hard to quell fresh tears. Shed weptso often lately she felt soggy, like moss. And what was the point ofweeping anyway? Weeping wouldnt save her father. He was broken,he was slipping away.

I will be an orphan soon.

Shed been half an orphan for ten years now. Without theportraits on the castle walls she might not even remember QueenIldas sweet face. A frightening thought, to lose her mothertwice. Was she destined to lose her brothers twice as well? Ranald andSimon were dead only two months, she still heard their voices on theedge of sleep. She thought it was likely, and after them her fathertwice. All these double bereavements. Where was God in this? Was hesleeping? Indifferent?

Mama, the boys, and now dear Papa. I know Im theyoungest, natures law dictates Id be the last one left ... but not this soon! Do you hear me, God? Its too soon!

As though sensing her rebellion, the venerable paused in hisbead-clicking and droning. Highness, the king will likely sleepfor hours. Perhaps your time would be better spent in prayer.

She wanted to say, I think youre praying enough for both of us, VenJustin.But if she said that hed tell her personal chaplain, Helfred,and Helfred would tell Prolate Marlan, and Marlan would be unamused.

It wasnt wise, to stir Marlan to anger.

So she said, her heart seething, I do pray, VenJustin. Every breath I take is a prayer.

VenJustin nodded, not entirely convinced. Admirable,Highness. But surely the proper place for your prayers is the castlechapel.

He may be a Most Venerable, but still he lacked the authority tocommand a kings daughter. She looked again at her fatherscadaverous face with its jaundiced skin pleated over fleshless bone, sohe would not see her anger. Her voice she kept quiet, sweet andunobjectionable. Be a lady, be a lady, be always a lady.

I will go to the chapel by and by. For now, VenJustin,even if he is asleep I know His Majesty takes comfort from mypresence.

Click-click-click went VenJustins prayer beads. He picked up his droning where hed left off.

On his mountain of pillows, her father stirred. Beneath hispaper-thin eyelids his eyes shifted, restless. The pulse in his throatbeat harder. Ranald, he muttered. Ranald, my boy ... Im coming. Im coming. His voice, oncetreacle-dark and smooth as silk, rasped like rusted wire.Ranald, my good son... His exhaled breath became agroan.

A basin of water and a soft cloth sat near at hand, on the bedsidecabinet. Gently, Rhian moistened her fathers cheeks and lips.Its all right, Papa. Dont fret. Im here.Please try to rest.

Ranald! said her father, and opened his eyes. Sorecently the deepest blue, clear and clean as a summer sky, now theywere rheumy, their whites stained yellow with the failing of his liver.For a horrible moment they were clouded, confused. Then he rememberedher, and sighed. Rhian. I thought I heard Ranald.

She dropped the cloth back in the basin and took his hand again. Hisfingers felt so brittle. Hold him too tightly and hed break intopieces. I know, Papa. You were dreaming.

A single tear trailed through his grey stubble. I nevershould have let Ranald go voyaging with Simon, he whispered.I was selfishly indulgent, I cared more for Ranald loving methan I did for what was best, and now they are dead. My heir is deadand so is his brother. I have failed the kingdom.

It was by now a familiar refrain. Rhian kissed his cold hand.Thats nonsense, Papa. Every great mans sons goabroad. Your father didnt forbid you the world, even though youwere the heir. You could never have denied your sons thatadventure. Ranald and Simon had bad luck, thats all. Itsnot your fault. You arent to blame.

In the corner, VenJustins beads clicked louder. The Church frowned on superstitious beliefs like luck. She spared the man a warning glance. Venerable or not, she wouldnt have him upsetting her father.

Rhian.

Yes, Papa?

His fingers tried to squeeze hers. My good girl. What will become of you when Im gone?

She could answer that, but not in front of Most Venerable Justin.Not in front of anyone who would carry her words straight back toHelfred and Marlan. Hush, Papa, she said, and smoothedher other hand over his thinning hair. Dont tire yourselftalking.

But he was determined to fret. I should have seen youbetrothed, Rhian. I have failed you as I failed your brothers.

A single name rang like a bell in her heart. Alasdair. Butthere was no point thinking of him. He was returned to duchy Linfoi andhis own ailing father... and besides, shed not yet come nearto softening the king towards him.

Papa, Papa, do not excite yourself, she soothed.You need to rest. God will take care of me. Anotherglance, over her shoulder. Isnt that so,VenJustin?