The Winter of the Witch
A Novel
(Sprache: Englisch)
Following their adventures in The Bear and the Nightingale and The Girl in the Tower, Vasya and Morozko return in this stunning conclusion to the bestselling Winternight Trilogy, battling enemies mortal and magical to save both Russias, the seen and the...
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Following their adventures in The Bear and the Nightingale and The Girl in the Tower, Vasya and Morozko return in this stunning conclusion to the bestselling Winternight Trilogy, battling enemies mortal and magical to save both Russias, the seen and the unseen.Reviewers called Katherine Arden's novels The Bear and the Nightingale and The Girl in the Tower "lyrical," "emotionally stirring," and "utterly bewitching." The Winternight Trilogy introduced an unforgettable heroine, Vasilisa Petrovna, a girl determined to forge her own path in a world that would rather lock her away. Her gifts and her courage have drawn the attention of Morozko, the winter-king, but it is too soon to know if this connection will prove a blessing or a curse.
Now Moscow has been struck by disaster. Its people are searching for answers-and for someone to blame. Vasya finds herself alone, beset on all sides. The Grand Prince is in a rage, choosing allies that will lead him on a path to war and ruin. A wicked demon returns, stronger than ever and determined to spread chaos. Caught at the center of the conflict is Vasya, who finds the fate of two worlds resting on her shoulders. Her destiny uncertain, Vasya will uncover surprising truths about herself and her history as she desperately tries to save Russia, Morozko, and the magical world she treasures. But she may not be able to save them all.
Advance praise for Winter of the Witch
"Katherine Arden's Winternight Trilogy isn't just good-it's hug-to-your-chest, straight-to-the-favorites-shelf, reread-immediately good, and each book just gets better. The Winter of the Witch plunges us back to fourteenth-century Moscow, where old gods and new vie for the soul of Russia, and fate rests on a witch girl's slender shoulders. Prepare to have your heart ripped out, loaned back to you full of snow and magic, and ripped out some more."-Laini Taylor
Lese-Probe zu „The Winter of the Witch “
1.Marya Morevna
Dusk at the end of winter, and two men crossed the dooryard of a palace scarred by fire. The dooryard was a snowless waste of water and trampled earth; the men sank to their ankles in the muck. But they were speaking intently, heads close together, and did not heed the wet. Behind them lay a palace full of broken furniture, smoke-stained; the screen-work smashed on the staircases. Before them lay a charred ruin that had been a stable.
Chelubey disappeared in the confusion, said the first man bitterly. We were busy saving our own skins. A smear of soot blackened his cheek, blood crusted in his beard. Weary hollows, like blue thumbprints, marred the flesh beneath his gray eyes. He was barrel-chested, young, with the fey energy of a man who has driven himself past exhaustion to a surreal and persistent wakefulness. Every eye in the dooryard followed him. He was the Grand Prince of Moscow.
Our skins, and a little more, said the other man a monk with a touch of grim humor. For, against all hope, the city was mostly intact, and still theirs. The night before, the Grand Prince had come close to being deposed and murdered, though few people knew that. His city had nearly burned to ash; only a miraculous snowstorm had saved them. Everyone knew that. A swath of black gashed the heart of the city, as though the hand of God had fallen in the night, dripping fire from its nails.
It was not enough, said the Grand Prince. We may have saved ourselves, but we made no answer for the treachery. All that bitter day, the prince had reassuring words for every man who caught his eye, had calm orders for the men wrangling his surviving horses and hauling away the charred beams of the stable. But the monk, who knew him well, could see the exhaustion and the rage just beneath the surface. I am going out myself, tomorrow, with all that can be spared, the prince said. We will find the Tatars and we will kill them.
Leave Moscow now, Dmitrii
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Ivanovich? asked the monk, with a touch of disquiet.
A night and a day without sleep had done nothing for Dmitrii s temper. Are you going to tell me otherwise, Brother Aleksandr? he asked, in a voice that made his attendants flinch.
The city cannot do without you, said the monk. There are dead to mourn; there are granaries lost, and animals and warehouses. Children cannot eat vengeance, Dmitrii Ivanovich. The monk had no more slept than the Grand Prince; he could not quite mask the edge in his own voice. His left arm was wrapped in linen where an arrow had gone into the muscle below the shoulder, and been dragged through and out again.
The Tatars attacked me in my own palace, after I had made them welcome in good faith, retorted Dmitrii, not troubling to keep the rage from his reply. They conspired with a usurper, they fired my city. Is all that to go unavenged, Brother?
The Tatars had not, in fact, fired the city. But Brother Aleksandr did not say so. Let that mistake be forgotten; it could not be mended now.
Coldly, the Grand Prince added, Did not your own sister give birth to a dead child in the chaos? A royal infant dead, a swath of the city in ashes the people will cry out if there is not justice.
No amount of spilled blood will bring back my sister s child, said Sasha, sharper than he meant. Clear in his mind was his sister s tearless mourning, worse than any weeping.
Dmitrii s hand was on the hilt of his sword. Will you lecture me now, priest?
Sasha heard the breach between them, scabbed over but unhealed, in the prince s voice. I will not, said Sasha.
Dmitrii,
A night and a day without sleep had done nothing for Dmitrii s temper. Are you going to tell me otherwise, Brother Aleksandr? he asked, in a voice that made his attendants flinch.
The city cannot do without you, said the monk. There are dead to mourn; there are granaries lost, and animals and warehouses. Children cannot eat vengeance, Dmitrii Ivanovich. The monk had no more slept than the Grand Prince; he could not quite mask the edge in his own voice. His left arm was wrapped in linen where an arrow had gone into the muscle below the shoulder, and been dragged through and out again.
The Tatars attacked me in my own palace, after I had made them welcome in good faith, retorted Dmitrii, not troubling to keep the rage from his reply. They conspired with a usurper, they fired my city. Is all that to go unavenged, Brother?
The Tatars had not, in fact, fired the city. But Brother Aleksandr did not say so. Let that mistake be forgotten; it could not be mended now.
Coldly, the Grand Prince added, Did not your own sister give birth to a dead child in the chaos? A royal infant dead, a swath of the city in ashes the people will cry out if there is not justice.
No amount of spilled blood will bring back my sister s child, said Sasha, sharper than he meant. Clear in his mind was his sister s tearless mourning, worse than any weeping.
Dmitrii s hand was on the hilt of his sword. Will you lecture me now, priest?
Sasha heard the breach between them, scabbed over but unhealed, in the prince s voice. I will not, said Sasha.
Dmitrii,
... weniger
Autoren-Porträt von Katherine Arden
Katherine Arden
Bibliographische Angaben
- Autor: Katherine Arden
- 2019, 384 Seiten, Maße: 16 x 24 cm, Gebunden, Englisch
- Verlag: Del Rey
- ISBN-10: 1101885998
- ISBN-13: 9781101885994
- Erscheinungsdatum: 11.01.2019
Sprache:
Englisch
Pressezitat
[Katherine] Arden s gorgeous prose entwines political intrigue and feminist themes with magic and folklore to tell a tale both intimate and epic, featuring a heroine whose harrowing and wondrous journey culminates in an emotionally resonant finale. Publishers Weekly (starred review)Katherine Arden s Winternight Trilogy isn t just good it s hug-to-your-chest, straight-to-the-favorites-shelf, reread-immediately good, and each book just gets better. The Winter of the Witch plunges us back to fourteenth-century Moscow, where old gods and new vie for the soul of Russia and fate rests on a witch girl s slender shoulders. Prepare to have your heart ripped out, loaned back to you full of snow and magic, and ripped out some more. Laini Taylor
Luxuriously detailed yet briskly suspenseful . . . a striking literary fantasy informed by Arden s deep knowledge. Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
Visceral descriptions of battle, an atmospheric sense of place, and some truly heartbreaking moments of loss make this a gut-wrenching read, but there s ample hope and satisfaction to be found as Vasya chooses her own unique path to triumph. Booklist
Exciting, moving, and beautifully written, this is a story readers will savor. Library Reads
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