By Steven Erikson
It's an indisputable fact: supply evil a reputation and everyone’s chuffed. supply it names and…why, they’re even happier.
Intrepid necromancers Bauchelain and Korbal Broach, scourges of civilization, raisers of the useless, reapers of the souls of the residing, devourers of desire, betrayers of religion, slayers of the blameless, and modest personifications of evil, have much to respond to for and solution they are going to. often called the Nehemoth, they're pursued via numerous self-professed defenders of decency, sanity, and civilization. in any case, due to the fact while does evil thrive unchallenged? good, often—but now not this time.
Hot on their heels are the Nehemothanai, avowed hunters of Bauchelain and Korbal Broach. within the corporation of a bunch of artists and pilgrims, stalwart Mortal Sword Tulgord Vise, pious good Knight Arpo Relent, stern Huntsman Steck Marynd, and 3 of the redoubtable Chanter brothers (and their lone sister) locate themselves confronted with the most harsh of decisions. The mythical Crack’d Pot path, a stretch of harsh desert among the Gates of Nowhere and the Shrine of the detached God, has develop into a tortured course of deprivation.
Will honor, ethical probity, and advantage end up champions within the face of brutal necessity? No, in fact now not. Don’t be silly.
At the publisher's request, this identify is being bought with no electronic Rights administration software program (DRM) utilized.
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Extra info for Crack'd Pot Trail (Bauchelain and Korbal Broach, Book 4)
Ride after him, and if you do not overtake him on the road, proceed to his estate and remain with him until we send for him. Don’t let him out of your sight. He is mazed with fear, and might bolt – might even rush to Conan in a panic, and reveal the whole plot, hoping thus to save his own hide. ” The slave bowed, hiding the hate in his eyes, and did as he was bidden. Ascalante turned again to his wine. Over the jeweled spires was rising a dawn crimson as blood. II When I was a fighting-man, the kettle-drums they beat, The people scattered gold-dust before my horse’s feet; But now I am a great king, the people hound my track With poison in my wine-cup, and daggers at my back.
My Ring – stolen from me –” Steel glittered in the Stygian’s hand and with a heave of his great dusky shoulders he drove the dagger into the baron’s fat body. Dion’s high thin squeal broke in a strangled gurgle and his whole flabby frame collapsed like melted butter. A fool to the end, he died in mad terror, not knowing why. Flinging aside the crumpled corpse, already forgetful of it, Thoth grasped the ring in both hands, his dark eyes blazing with a fearful avidness. ” he whispered in terrible exultation.
Ascalante, king of Aquilonia! ” The Stygian shrugged his broad shoulders. “There was a time,” he said with unconcealed bitterness, “when I, too, had my ambitions, beside which yours seem tawdry and childish. To what a state I have fallen! ” “You laid your trust in magic and mummery,” answered Ascalante carelessly. ” “Wits and swords are as straws against the wisdom of the Darkness,” growled the Stygian, his dark eyes flickering with menacing lights and shadows. ” the fiendish hatred of the Stygian glittered for an instant redly in his eyes.