Jute can break into any house, climb any wall, and steal anything--and he just got hired for what he thinks is an easy burglary job. The only problem is, if he succeeds, the Thieves Guild is going to murder him. He just doesn't know that. Not yet.
Being a thief always came easy for him, but it's a lot harder now, particularly when everyone wants him dead. Hiding out in the city of Hearne, Jute finds some strange allies in an old wizard and a talking hawk. Together, they uncover an ancient secret of terrifying power.
All Jute needs to do is stay alive long enough to figure out why there's a price on his head, why a deadly shadow is stalking him, and why the dark is haunting his dreams. Also, why on earth is
the wind talking to him?
The Hawk and His Boy is the first book in the Tormay Trilogy. The three books of the trilogy have sold a combined figure of a little over 70,000 copies so far, primarily for Kindle on Amazon. The three books have been ranked as high as the mid-hundreds on the overall Amazon best-sellers list, and they have also been ranked as high as the top twenty on the Epic Fantasy best-sellers list on Amazon.
"Exuberant and entertaining writing, memorable characters and generally interesting setting with much expansion potential - are things that catapult a novel to favorite, "I want next book now" status, and "The Hawk and His Boy" has them..." --Fantasy Book Critic review
CHAPTER ONE
DOWN THE CHIMNEY
The man raised his fist again.
“No shirking,” he said. “If you know what’s good for you.”
The boy dabbed at his cut lip and then touched the wall. His fingertips were greasy with blood. The alley they stood in was narrow, but the moon shone down from overhead, glimmering on the stones of the wall. The sweet scent of selia blossoms filled the air.
“Hurry up.”
“I need to get a feel for it first,” said the boy sullenly.
Only a fool would climb without trying to understand a wall first. No telling what would be there. Ward spells woven into the stones. Holds and ledges that were illusions, melting away once your weight was on them. He leaned his forehead against the wall and closed his eyes. The stones were still warm from the day’s sunlight. And something else.
“The wall’s warded,” said the boy. “It’s listening to us.”
“So be silent.”
The boy cinched the knapsack on his back tight and began to climb. He was the best of the Juggler’s children. The tiniest edge of rock was a foothold or a handhold to him. If he had been given a wall reaching up to the sky, he could have climbed it. Even up to the stars.
He listened as he climbed. Wavering focus could result in injury or death. Eight feet above the ground, he heard the first whispers of the ward spells contracting, weaving themselves tighter and waiting for the intruder. He froze into silence. He thought of the emptiness of sky, where even the wind blows in silence. He recalled a memory of night, mute with stars and darkness. The wards relaxed, hearing the same silence inside the boy. They became still, waiting for a real intruder, someone of noisy flesh and blood, not this shadow of a boy.
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Italian
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Already translated.
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Portuguese
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Already translated.
Translated by Elaine Cristina Albino de Oliveira
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Author review: Elaine is completely professional to work with: responsive, quick, and her translation is of high quality. |
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by Olalla Martínez Rodríguez and Isaac Álvarez Veiga
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