Betrayal ...treachery ... treason. A year has passed since Kalli
escaped from the Ferrasium, but the High Priest's stranglehold is
tightening and his tentacles are extending to encompass all of
Keymett. As Pharaoh's royal barges sail toward Wasset to celebrate
the Jubilee Festival, the High Priest is poised like an arachnid in
his nest, waiting to hatch his plans. Kalli must unlock the secrets
of the Golden Scarab before all of Keymett falls under the High
Priest's dominion, but who can she trust? Excerpt: Bells jangled
above his head as Seraphis parted the beaded curtain at the shop's
entrance. Bottles, colors of every hue, lined the shelves from
floor to ceiling of the small space. Dark shapes floated within
some of the jars and Seraphis saw eyeballs, tails, and scales
suspended within. Scents of aniseed, sulphur, and camphor mingled
in his nostrils. He coughed. The shopkeeper, a man of middle years,
bowed and the tassel on top of his box hat swung in an arc. He
swept his arm toward his wares. "Noble sir, how may I be of
assistance?" The High Priest kept his hood up, shrouding his
features and flicked a gold coin at the shopkeeper. "I seek
Moorak." The man snatched the coin from the air faster than a
lizard's tongue catching a drowsy fly. The coin disappeared inside
his robes as if he was a magician. He pointed to a doorway almost
hidden in the shadows at the rear of the shop. "The last door on
the left. Knock seven times." The corridor was smothered in shadows
and smelt of decay. A rat scurried away from his footsteps. The
last door was solid and studded with iron spikes. He rapped exactly
seven times, stood back and waited, drumming his fingers against
his upper arm. Moments later, he heard a series of bolts being
drawn and the door groaned open a crack. "Moorak?" Chains rattled
and the door opened further. A hand crippled into a claw and tipped
with yellow fingernails motioned him inside. Moorak secured the
door behind Seraphis before shuffling to the work bench. A
cauldron, blackened with soot, bubbled above the fire pit, belching
green fumes. Seraphis' eyes watered. He blinked rapidly and tried
to mask his surprise. Moorak was a woman. She was fair of face, but
mottled skin, pitted and burnt, sheathed both her forearms. She
must have become accustomed to her customers' reactions to her
ruined arms as she glanced down and shrugged. "My art demands some
sacrifice." Moorak shooed a toad off a chair and offered the seat
to her visitor. "What service do you require?" Seraphis ignored the
seat and paced, tugging his earlobe. "A slow-acting poison to stop
the heart, but leaves no trace." Moorak nodded. "How do you want to
administer it? By ingestion, a few drops trickled on food? Or
slipped into a drink, or by touch?" "Touch?" "I have recently
acquired a rare but expensive ingredient that can be smeared upon
items, but it takes one to two days to work. The reactions vary
dependent on the dosage. With a high dose, the victim succumbs to a
failed heart, while lighter doses produce flu-like symptoms and
kills the sufferer by dissolving their internal organs. It leaves
no residue and isn't contagious, but heed my warning; there is no
antidote. The slightest touch kills. " Seraphis smiled. "Perfect."
Scroll up and grab your copy of Golden Scarab today. Contains adult
themes.
General
Imprint: |
Createspace Independent Publishing Platform
|
Country of origin: |
United States |
Series: |
The Windflowers Trilogy, 2 |
Release date: |
February 2014 |
First published: |
February 2014 |
Authors: |
Wendy Scott
|
Dimensions: |
229 x 152 x 13mm (L x W x T) |
Format: |
Paperback - Trade
|
Pages: |
224 |
ISBN-13: |
978-1-4954-2521-9 |
Categories: |
Books >
Fiction >
Genre fiction >
Myth & legend told as fiction
|
LSN: |
1-4954-2521-5 |
Barcode: |
9781495425219 |
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