Ian Irvine - A Shadow on the Glass (The View from the Mirror, #1)

Karan of Gothryme: Her wild talents are born of a tragic, cursed heritage. They herald an unknown destinyany give her an unexpected ability to stay alive

Master Llian of the Zain: A brilliant prodigy, his voice is his magic, his memory is his strengthbut his ambition is his doom

Maigraith: An austere orphan raised by the uncanny Faellem, her distant coldness masks terrible painand a more terrible power

The Whelm: Relentless and ghastly, they exist only to servebut have long forgotten who their master is

Lord Yggur of Fiz Gorgo: The conqueror/sorcerer may be a mad tyrantor a hero cruelly wronged

Magister Mendark of Thurkad: Paternal and petulant, compassionate and cruel, avuncular and egomaniacal, the most powerful mancer has ruled wicked Thurkad for millenniaand plans to hold on forever

A great find! Irvine writes beautifully refreshing, complicated, and compelling.

Kate Elliott, author of Kings Dragon

WARNER BOOKS EDITION

Copyright 1998 by Ian Irvine

Maps copyright 1998 by Ian Irvine

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

This edition is published by arrangement with Penguin Books Australia, Ltd.

Aspect name and logo are registered trademarks of Warner Books, Inc.

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First eBook Edition: October 2009

ISBN: 978-0-446-56759-6

To my legion of faithful readers,
companions on the long march,
who never faltered though having to
wait nine years for the ending.
But most especially to

Nancy and Eric

A grain in the balance will determine which individual shall live and which shall diewhich variety or species shall increase in number, and which shall decrease, or finally become extinct.

DARWIN, THE ORIGIN OF SPECIES

Contents

Among the many people who have read drafts for me over the years and helped this novel to find its true home, I would particularly like to acknowledge the counsel and kindness of John Rummery, John Cohen, Van Ikin and Nancy Mortimer.

To all the warm-hearted people at Penguin Books, especially my publisher Erica Irving, thank you for your enthusiasm for the work and for providing the resources to make the series as good as it could possibly be. I would also like to thank Alex Skovron for meticulous proofreading, Barrie Frieden-Collins for cover-art concepts, Mark Sofilas for the wonderful covers, and Selwa Anthony, my agent.

To my editor Kay Ronai, it has been a privilege and a pleasure to work with you. Most of all, I would like to thank Anne Irvine.

I t was the final night of the Graduation Telling, when the masters and students of the College of the Histories at Chanthed told the Great Tales that were the very essence of human life on Santhenar. To Llian had fallen the honor and the peril of telling the greatest tale of allthe Tale of the Forbidding. The tale of Shuthdar, the genius who made the golden flute but could not bear to give it up; who had changed the Three Worlds forever.

The telling was perilous because Llian was from an outcast race, the Zain, a scholarly people whose curiosity had led them into a treacherous alliance in ancient times. Though their subsequent decimation and exile was long ago, the Zain were still thought ill of. No Zain had been honored with a Graduation Telling in five hundred years. No Zain had even been admitted to the college in a hundred years, save Llian, and that was a curious affair in itself.

So, his tale must best them all, students and masters too. Succeed and he would graduate master chronicler, a rare honor. No one had worked harder or agonized more to make his tale. But even a perfect telling would bring him as many enemies as admirers. Llian could sense them, willing him to fail. Well, let them try. No one knew what he knew. No one had ever told the tale this way before.

Once there were three worlds, Aachan, Tallallame and San-thenar, each with its own human species: Aachim, Faellem and us, old human. Then, fleeing out of the void between the worlds came a fourth people, the Charon. They were just a handful, desperate, on the precipice of extinction. They found a weakness in the Aachim, took their world from them and forever changed the balance between the worlds.

The Great Tales all began with that introduction, for it was the key to the Histories. Llian took a deep breath and began his tale.

In ancient times Shuthdar, a smith of genius, was summoned from Santhenar by Rulke, a mighty Charon prince of Aachan. And why had Rulke undertaken such a perilous working? He would move freely among the worlds, and perhaps the genius of Shuthdar could open the way. So Shuthdar labored and made that forbidden thing, an opening device, in the form of a golden flute. Its beauty and perfection surpassed even the dreams of its makerthe flute was more precious to him than anything he had ever made. He stole it, opened a gate and fled back to Santhenar. But Shuthdar made a fatal mistake. He broke open the Way between the Worlds

The tale was familiar to everyone in the hall, but the crowd were silent and attentive. Llian did not relax for a moment. The story was hours long, and before it was done he would need every iota of his tellers voice, that almost magical ability of great talesmiths to move their audience to any emotion they desired. It was an art that could not be taught, though the masters tried hard enough.

Llian met the eyes of the assembly, one by one, as he told the tale. Everyone in the room knew that he spoke just to them.

The opening shocked Aachan, that frigid world of sulphurcolored snow, oily bogs and black luminous flowers, to its core. The Charon hunted Shuthdar to Santhenar, bringing with them a host of Aachim, that they had enslaved at the dawn of time. All came naked and empty-handed, for any object taken from one world to another might mutate in treacherous ways. The Charon must leave behind their constructs, mighty engines of transformation or destruction, and rely on older powers.

And Tallallame, its rain-drenched forests and towering mountains the antithesis of Aachan, was also threatened by the opening. The Faellem, a small, dour folk for whom the universe was but an illusion made by themselves, selected their best to put it right. Faelamor it was who led them so proudly to Santhenar. Neither did they bring any weapons. Their powers of the mind were such that on their own world they needed nothing more.

Shuthdar was hunted across the lands and down the grinding centuries, fleeing through gate after gate, and wherever he went he brought strife. But finally he was driven into a trap