From the front door of the moneylender, Hamish continued up the High Mayor's Parade to an area where the trees were taller and the buildings even more somber. The front door of residence of the Ambassador of the Highlands opened just as he reached it. He was greeted by Robeart, who had arrived with Ion from the Highlands four years ago bearing the news of the death of Hamish’s mother.
“Ion said you would be arriving soon.” Robeart said in his usual, breathlessly fussy fast pace. “I’ve been perched here waiting for you ever since. I must say, dear boy, that you look positively dreadful. Must you go about dressed like that? Are you ever going to stop growing? Ion took the prince off to that dreary library of yours. Let's just leave them to it, shall we? Come, you must eat something before you go in to talk with him. Doesn’t that Groggin allow you to eat? Bend down, you are too tall for me to kiss.”
“I’m sorry that it has been so long, Robeart. Have you been keeping out of trouble?”
“That’s not funny, and you know it, young man.”
“I’m being serious, are you still having problems?”
Robeart glanced around, and then whispered to Hamish, “It’s all these damn girls they’ve saddled us with, Hamish. Now that you’re gone, and we’re here, every country lump thinks to place their daughters with us so they can gain a safe introduction to the city life. We’re overrun. And the things they get up to ... don’t get me started on it.”
“And the other problems?”
“That was just your nasty friends. After what you did to them, I think most people think Ion and I are the normal Highlanders. Anyway, I’ve began studying the Blade again.”
“You did tell me that you were once interested in becoming a Blademaster.”
“At the time I think it was just vanity. I was too young then. My life was too complicated. Now, since I’ve settled, old age you know, I find the discipline very soothing. You might find it would help you as well.”
“You're only 25 years old,” Hamish reminded Robeart. “You're not old. You're only halfway through your first Prime years.”
“A man has but one year to decide to live, two years as a babe, four years of childhood, eight years of youth, twice 16 years as a Prime, and then 16 years of Senority,” Ion recited. “You are the one that told me only 5 of 10 births survive to their adulthood, and only 2 of the remaining survive to their Seniority. I am closer to the end of my life than the beginning.”
“I know you are better with your maths than to conclude that,” Hamish laughed.
“I can count your 16 years as one year too many to be a youth,” Robeart acknowledged.
“I think the Blade and I have parted company,” Hamish said, remembering the subject of the conversation. “I only just made it to Master of Iron, you know, before the accident. I would need another two years before I could even become a Master of the Blade. There is also that little problem that I have yet to be Spoken For. I couldn’t become an Initiate without being Spoken For first.”
“You are a Highlander. Your Prime will be achieved through the Testing. You can not be Spoken For here in Riversea. This is not your place.”
“Maybe both ... ?”
“No.”
Two maids, almost hiding behind the kitchen door, caught Hamish’s eye, but Robeart shooed them back to work. “They are incorrigible, I tell you.”
“I think I’ll have to visit more often.”
“Don’t you dare, young man.” And then Robeart sighed. “Actually, you’d be our savior. Once the word got out, we’d have worried mothers rescuing their daughters, and then blissful peace.”
“Some day you’ll have to introduce me to the person you have heard all these stories about.”
“Don’t play so coy with me, Hamish. I have the confidence of many of the better class tradeswomen these days, you know. They all have their eye on you over at the Riverseaton Market.”
Hamish laughed, “Now there is a trustworthy bunch of gossips.”
“Gossips they may be, Hamish, but I’ve heard things from them before I’ve heard them from the High Mayor. Anyway, it helps Ion if someone is listening to the word on the streets. He’s not very practical, but most men aren’t. We’ve heard about your Miss Prurience.”
“It’s Prudence, and she is not mine.”
“I would say not. You don’t drink too much there do you? That Inn is not a good place for a young man.”
“I wish I was able to drink,” Hamish said. “It’s hard to be a brewer without tasting every so often.”
“Some good comes out of all bad things. You’re looking much better,” Robeart said. “It’s only a small scar.”
“I know the joke ... it just shows where my brain used to be. Hello, Acting Ambassador,” Hamish said to Ion, who had just joined them. “We’re on our way to breakfast, sir. How is Falkyr?”
“The son of t’Fhar is reading the Codes of King t’Weis as you suggested. He says it is written in an archaic dialect of Islander. Is the Guide with you?”
“No sir, I left him at the Castleton Inn.”
“Was that wise?”
“I’ll check when I leave here, sir. I asked the master to see if Curtis would be available to teach him the Game.”
“Curtis only plays for money.”
“Sir, money is something the Kingdomer has too much of, sir.”
“It’s nice to hear you showing some respect, but don’t overdo it. How are you getting on with Master Groggin?”
“Just last night we tasted something that will get me into the guild.”
“That’s wonderful news, Hamish,” Robeart enthused. “Its always good to have a skill.”
“Yes, Hamish, we both have understood your desire to honor your contract with the brewmaster. Although you may be worthy of the guild, you will not be applying. This year you go back to the Highlands.” Hamish turned to Robeart for appeal, but Ion said, “No, Hamish, there will be no arguments. You will be Tested in the Highlands, not Spoken For here in Riversea. You are a Highlander.”
“The orders don’t just come from Ion, Hamish,” Robeart said, “it’s - no don’t shush me, Ion - the boy has a right to know. Hamish, Ion received a letter last year ordering you back to the Highlands. He conveniently forgot to open it until after the last convoy. He gave you an extra year to work off your debt to Master Groggin, but your time is up. You’re going home. You have already missed the convoy of the Silverwater. Since you don’t want to overwinter in Freeville you’re going to have to travel on your own, and fast. You have to take the Test. You are a Highlander. You have responsibilities. The Principality of Sarzana is waiting for you. And don’t think it doesn’t need you. Your family has been absent from the Council for too many generations now.”
“Is my sister ordering me back?”
Robeart looked at Ion, who finally spoke. “No, Hamish, it’s the High Councilor himself. Hurl wants you back. He feels he owes it to you. Your family has paid a high enough price for its king-making. He was a great friend of your father, you know. It hurt him to send your father away. It was he who told me to bring your father the news about your mother. He wanted your father to hear it from family first.”
“I’ve always thought the job of Ambassador was an honor.”
“It is, Hamish, it’s become the recognition for men too powerful to be allowed to remain in the Highlands.”
“My, but we do have airs,” Robeart said. “You know as well as I do, Hamish, the job is for people who are thought to be threats to the orderly running of the Highlands. That is why Ion is sure to get the job. The Duke of Fano doesn’t like to be reminded that the wife of his little brother is another man.”
“You are being crude, Robeart,” Ion said sharply.
“I can’t believe the High Councilor is that concerned about me,” Hamish said.
“You’re probably correct Hamish,” Ion snapped
. “He probably doesn’t give a damn about you. What he does care about is Sarzana. Either you get back there and claim it as a Tested Highlander, or you lose it. You sister is only there as your regent. You have a duty to the other members of your family, the people of your birthright, and to all of the Highlands, and you don’t have much more time to hide from it. We need you as our Prince, Hamish. We need you to protect us. If you let Sarzana slip away, then we all slip away as well.”
“That reminds me,” Hamish said. “Captain Grey would like to speak with you.”
“I don’t like to say this, Hamish,” Ion said, “but that man is exactly what I will not let you become, even if I have to place you in chains. The children of Gretz - that Greta and her daughters, and Grey - and however many spawn he’s had besides that Greyling, are a shame to the Highlands. There is no honor in destroying a man’s children.”
“Don’t get him started on Greta,” Robeart warned.
“Greyling returned for the Testing,” Hamish protested.
“It’s going to be very hard for him, since he is only half Highlander,” Ion said. “But at least he did not leave it until it was too late.”
“I’m too old for the Testing, aren’t I?” Hamish asked.
“Being a Prince is going to be the hardest thing you’ll ever do, and it will never end until you die. If you can’t survive the Testing, you’ll never survive as Prince. Yes, you’re already too old to start the training.”
“I don’t have a chance then, do I?”
Ion and Robeart looked at each other, and then Robeart said, “You don’t have a virgin's hope over a long winter, if you listen to anyone’s advice. The Testing is not about what you are, but who you are inside. Ion and I both passed, so don’t think you know what the Gods will ask of you.”
“You know,” Hamish said, as a huge plate of delicacies was set in front of him. “I don’t feel so hungry anymore.”
Robeart simply said, “Eat.”
“But I just ate with the Master Banker on my way here,” Hamish protested.
“Is that why you kept me waiting at the door, you naughty boy,” Robeart said, relaxing back to his usual persona now that the topic of discussion was no longer Hamish’s future.
“How is the Master Banker,” Ion asked.
“He’s rather worried about this plan of Belthor’s to develop the New Ground.”
“Did he say why?” Ion asked.
“Belthor has asked for a loan, but not enough for his plans. The Master was wondering who else was backing the project.”
“And he suspects?”
“He sees Highlander conspiracies everywhere.”
Ion watched for a minute while Hamish gamely attempted to eat under the watchful eye of Robeart. Ion finally asked, “What did you say to give him that idea?”
“I told him the obvious - the New Ground is closer to Haps and the Kingdom’s Hall of the Covenant than it is to the Highlands. If Bethor were receiving support from outside of Riversea, then the High Mayor should look to Kingdom interference, rather than to the Highlands.”
“Quick thinking,” Robeart said. “It’s completely illogical, of course. The Kingdoms already have a full Temple of their Covenant just outside of Riversea at Dark Forest Clearing. Strategically, they already block the door from Riversea to the World. Since they don’t have a navy they can’t come between the Islands and Riversea. They don’t need Belthor's New Ground.”
“I completely forgot about that,” Hamish said. “How could I have been so stupid?”
“Riversea tends to ignore the fact the Kingdoms has an army camped on its only entrance,” Robeart said.
“But it’s only there to escort the Silverwater,” Hamish said.
“Right,” Robeart said. “But since that is a two-year round trip there is always at least a Wing in Dark Forest Clearing over winter and two in the summer. That’s the same size as the entire Riversea army I believe.”
“Actually, the Riversea army has 5 Wings,” Hamish said, “but only one is deployed at the Garrison at the Top of the Stairs.”
“So if the Kingdoms wanted,” Robeart said, “they could easily invade Riversea, but probably not permanently occupy it if the locals put up any resistance - simply by using the nearby troops.”
“I guess ...” Hamish said, seriously shaken by his miscalculation.
“But it would make dabbling with Belthor's project unnecessary wouldn’t it?” Robeart said. “I hope no one heard you stirring up trouble between Riversea and the Kingdoms.”
“Actually, the Master Banker figured it out long before me and had already hauled Belthor before the High Mayor,” Hamish said. “But Belthor wouldn’t reveal his backers until the High Mayor ordered him off to the Kingdoms as Ambassador. He then named the Lady of the Silver Lake.”
“Impossible,” Robeart said. “We were just speaking with the Secretary of the Lady yesterday. She had been hoping to meet Prince Falkyr at the reception last night. We spoke of you, and the High Mayor's sons. The Lady does not hold them in high regard.”
“Hamish,” Ion said with some embarrassment, “although I have been here for four years now, there are still some things I don’t understand about Riversea. And the Lady of the Silver Lake is one of them. There is nothing in your library about her, you know.”
“There must be something,” Hamish said. “What did the Secretary say about her mistress?”
“A lot of nothing,” Robeart said. “It’s a good thing you are leaving, Hamish, for you and the Secretary would have a lovely time together. The two of you could plot for days about the future of Riversea, while completely ignoring the insignificance of this place in the World.”
Hamish had to laugh, “Yes, I know Robeart. This is not the Highlands. It’s only Riversea. But remember - you are stuck here. I am leaving.”
“You are a wicked, cruel boy,” Robeart pouted, appealing to Ion for support.
“The Lady of the Silver Lake is not even listed among the Gentry of Riversea,” Ion said. “She doesn’t seem to be a Mayor, and is not a Holder of a House, and yet everyone only speaks her name in a whisper.”
“That’s because she’s more powerful than all of them put together,” Hamish responded.
“How can that be?” Robeart asked.
“She was here first. All this was hers. When those fleeing the Breaking of Time arrived, she allowed them to settle. She gave them everything except Fisher, and the crossing of the Silver Lake.” And then Hamish remembered, “And Haps, but Haps wasn’t hers as Fisher is. Before the Breaking there was the Lady of the Silver Lake, her people who lived in Fisher, and some farmers in Haps.”
“The Breaking was a thousand years ago, Hamish,” Ion said, and Robeart added, “It’s not even history, it’s just legend.”
“Fisher takes its history very seriously,” Hamish replied. “It’s the only way they continue to exist. Their rights come directly from the Lady. Trust me, Master Groggin is still talking of taking Barnabas before the Lady because of the damage done to his apprentice – me, that is. You did the right thing when you took me there, Ion. Fisher is a separate country. It is the host country of Riversea. The Lady of the Silver Lake is their queen.”
“If she is what you say she is,” Ion began, “why would she be interested in someone like Belthor? Why would she be opening land out on Antine Island? No one even lives there.”
“What's even 'new' about the New Ground?” Robeart asked. “I thought people had always been using the summer pastures on Antine Island?”
“Belthor's New Ground is out beyond the Summer Ground,” Hamish explained to Robeart. Turning to Ion he continued, “I’ve heard that the lands beyond Roadsend are growing old. Yields are declining. The rains in the spring have been strange. Silvery. Crops seem to come in late for no reason, and if a winter was early ... it could be bad. But the truth of the matter is that she’s not ba
cking Belthor. He named her because he felt no one would have the nerve to approach the Lady to confirm his story.”
“But then who is behind Belthor?” Ion sked.
“He’s been at it for several summers now,” Robert continued. “Ever since he tried to cut your head off.”
“He’s supporting his people somehow,” Ion concluded.
Hamish turned to the figure waiting at the door, “Ah, Falkyr, come in and join us. Have you learned anything from the Codes of High King t’Weis? One bit of advice, Ambassador, if I may. As one interested in knowing the state of affairs in Riversea, it would pay for you to spent time in Fisher. You should spend a winter serving beer to people with nothing more to do than talk to anyone who will listen. You’ll learn everything you’ll ever need to know.”
“Then you do know ...” Ion began.
“No, I don’t know what he’s up to,” Hamish said. “But if I wanted to learn, that is how I’d go about it.”
Falkyr looked like he was ill at ease for having interrupted, but Robeart found him a plate of food as large as Hamish’s.
“You read this book, Hamish?” Falkyr finally asked. “The writing of the High King t’Weis be very difficult. The language be not like he write it now. I must to think about his words long before I be understanding them. Please, I cannot eat all this, I apologize for not telling I eat before at the house of Madam Eloise.
“No one told me it wasn’t written in real Islander,” Hamish apologized. “No one here speaks Islander, so I thought I was reading Islander. Unfortunately, I can’t speak a word of the language.”
“Hamish, you didn’t tell us you called upon Madam Eloise,” Robeart said clapping his hands together, “and at such an early hour.”
“I had a delivery there.”
“She was so lovely last night at the welcoming,” Robeart said.
“I have heard there was a bit of a fashion crisis last night.” Hamish said as he stirred his food around to make it look like he was eating.
“Dreadful,” Robeart answered.
“I found it rather humorous,” Ion added.
“It was nothing of the sort,” Robeart corrected. “The ladies had nothing to wear.”
“You both will be attending the High Mayor tonight,” Ion reminded Hamish. “I hope you have something appropriate to wear. I will not have you embarrass the Madam Eloise on your departure.”
“I ... uh,” Hamish stopped. “I don’t have anything that fits.”
“I not have proper clothes also,” Falkyr squeezed in.
“Hamish, you must take t’Fhar’s son into Riverseaton and find both of you something appropriate for the dinner tonight,” Ion instructed.
“Go to Whillem’s,” Robeart added.
“I should...”
“This is much more important,” Ion concluded.
“Then perhaps we’ll have to finish this breakfast another day. Come, Falkyr, let’s see if my wagon is ready and then we can complete your introduction to the sights of Riversea. Thank you for the breakfast, Robeart, and for your words of concern about my future, Ambassador,” Hamish said, kissing both farewell.
“Hamish,” Ion said on the way to the front door, “there are still some things we need to discuss, - your holdings here in Riversea - this house, the matter of my position. Can I make an appointment to meet with you and the Master Banker? There is some urgency. You promised you would depart as soon as you welcomed the son of t’Fhar to his new life.”
Hamish sighed. “The Master Banker said the same. Whenever the two of you wish, I am always at your service.”
At the Castleton Inn Navarra had made great progress with the locals, while the lads had made no progress with unloading the wagon.
“Hamish!” one of the lads of the inn who was watching the Game shouted, “you should watch this. Your friend is sticking it to ol’ Curtis. I’ve switched my money to the Kingdomer.”
Hamish noticed that Curtis had a desperate look on his face, but then gave the slightest wink.
“I’d hate to interrupt your game, Navarra, but Falkyr has decided some new clothes might be in order for tonight’s reception...”
“Good for him,” Navarra said moving his hand from one piece on the board to another, and then back to moving the first.
“Would you care to join us?”
“I’m winning here, boy. I can’t be bothered with clothes.”
“You’ll be here all day then?” But Hamish received no response as Curtis removed the poorly positioned piece of Navarra. Turning to the inn master Hamish asked, “Any progress on my wagon?”
“I’m afraid not, lad. Why don’t you go about your business and I’ll have one of my lads return the wagon to you tomorrow.”
“I’ll catch hell from Groggin for leaving the wagon.”
“Tell your master to beat my lad when he returns the wagon, instead of you. It’ll save me the chore. Are we going to be seeing you in the Tournaments of the Blademasters this year?”
“No,” Hamish said flatly. “Let’s be off then, Falkyr.”
“You be a student of the Blade?” Falkyr asked.
“No.”
“That scar on your forehead would say otherwise,” Navarra remarked after an astute move.
“He didn’t know what he was doing,” Hamish said.
“A pass at vertical angle be making your enemy completely open,” Falkyr said. “Did you return?”
“No.”
“You must have shown great restraint,” said Navarra as Curtis took his time in moving.
“No,” Hamish said. “If I had, it never would have happened. We’d best be going since I would rather not return through Newton.”
“Do you have something against Newton?” Navarra asked.
“It is more that Newton has something against me.”
“Make sure our lad gets home safely then, Falkyr,” Navarra said, dismissing the two of them. “And don’t keep the High Mayor waiting just for a set of fancy clothes. Damn, now that was a move.”
The walk to Riverseaton took them back up the High Mayor's Parade and then out of Castleton at the high end of town. The road passed the main gate of the New Castle, and from the top of the pass they could see the disorganized sprawl of Newton and the walls surrounding Riverseaton. Behind the harbor of Riverseaton, the almost abandoned Old Castle loomed darkly over the city.
“That man playing Navarra be very good,” Falkyr said.
“Do you play the Game as well?”
“I be little patience for games of chance.”
“But you noticed that Curtis is very good.”
“He be fooling Navarra.”
“I just hope Navarra doesn’t get too offended when he comes to realize it. He’s going to learn that there is much more to the Game than chance. It is easy to believe that the dice determine the fate of the markers, but a player like Curtis can get the markers and their placement to determine the fate of the dice. If they start playing on two boards then Navarra will really learn what the Game is all about. Something special happens when two boards are played that leaves little to pure chance. The actions of one board affect the actions of the other. The Game draws energy from everything around it. The players, and the audience, all become part of the event. It’s an intensity beyond all others.”
“It be like a Pass of the Blade in the Tournament?”
“Much more intense. Real players of the Game can’t live without playing. They’re worse than drunks. Navarra could become one of those, if he had the money.”
“He be to lose?”
“Curtis is a professional. He plays to live, not the other way around.”
The shop of the clothier Whillem was in a panic, led by Whillem himself. He just couldn’t take on any more work until Hamish convinced him that perhaps his work would be best noticed upon the guest of honor. That only deepened the crisis as all the st
aff descended upon Falkyr with pins and measuring tape. Hamish found the process so much fun that he was finally ordered out of the room as Whillem dreamed up an outfit that would never go unnoticed. But before he departed, Whillem quickly measured Hamish and confirmed that the clothes Madam Eloise had ordered and already taken delivery of were going to fit him perfectly. It was then Falkyr’s turn to laugh when Whillem remarked that it was surprising that the Madam Eloise knew so well how much Hamish’s size had changed since the last time Whillem had dressed Hamish. After even Whillem had a laugh at his expense, and Whillem usually never questioned his customers' actions, just their fashion sense, Hamish then told Falkyr how to find his way to the Riverseaton market where they could arrange some lunch.
It was actually late afternoon before Falkyr arrived, but Hamish didn’t mind as he had bought lunch for a delightful young girl named Annalise, who, with Hamish’s help, had managed to sell all of her chickens quickly. They had then walked the market looking for things to buy for her friends back home in Whitestone. Unfortunately, she completely lost her voice when she was introduced to Falkyr.
“You must not need to quit the young lady just for me,” Falkyr said as they headed for the hole in the wall separating Riverseaton from Newton.
“She’ll be back next week, and thanks to you, she’ll remember me. That package is huge.”
“I be to look a fool.”
“Trust me. Tomorrow everyone will be trying to wear what you’re carrying. Whillem is the best.”
“He be expensive I think. He be not take payment.”
“He knows the value of an investment. Will you look at this place,” Hamish said as they entered Newton. “These people are pigs. I wouldn’t take you this way, but we are rather pressed for time. And at this time of the day I have found the Guards at Maingate always seem to be overly interested in everything passing under their noses.”
“I be not offended,” Falkyr said.
“Riverseaton made a mistake when it allowed this place to develop outside its walls. The rot here destroys everything. I don’t know how many times that hole we just came through has been fixed.” And then Hamish laughed. “When I was younger, a group of us tried to bring order to this place. I never manage to visit without coming across someone who still resents our efforts. And I don’t even have a stick with me today.”
“I think maybe you better should use a sword,” Falkyr said, touching his weapon.
“That would be a invitation for people to have a go at me. A good stick lets people walk away alive.”
Since Newton had grown without a plan, each street terminated as if it was the last street, requiring detours and alleyways and even passing through a couple of shops. The timber buildings all leaned at contrasting angles as they slowly sank into what had been a swamp. Random canals provided the earth to raise the ground above most of the high tides, and convenient places for every sort of refuse. The further they got from Riverseaton the shabbier the buildings became. Hamish made more and more detours trying to find areas where there were other people, but they finally came to an area where the alleys had been enclosed and the buildings built on pilings over the stinking mud. In the darkness it was a challenge to find the narrow planks of the walkway.
“Be this your usual path?” Falkyr asked.
“Like I said, I try and not come here at all. Newton changes every day. Last time I was here, none of this was here. Too many country people think the High Mayor is made of gold and come searching for easy jobs. We must be near the edge. All we have to do is keep going straight. If you could just carry on the way we’re going, I’m going to make a detour for a pee.”
“Straight ahead?”
“Straight ahead,” Hamish said and then ducked into the darkness. Since leaving the shop of Whillem their path had been far from direct. But all through the quieter parts there had been echos to their footsteps that had been too perfectly paced. Hamish was hearing them again as he lost sight of Falkyr. But the single set of footsteps had developed into the syncopation of several.
Three men passed with drawn knives. In the confined space swords would be a liability. A voice called out in a language Hamish didn’t understand and then he silently followed the men down the narrow planks. A hole in the roof pinned Falkyr in a beam of light. The column of men between Hamish and Falkyr had stopped, but beyond Falkyr Hamish could see more men approaching from the opposite direction.
Hamish shouted as loudly as he could and launched himself at the arm of the last man in the line, and drove the knife in the man's hand into the back of the next man in front. There was a scream and both men fell from the plank, leaving Hamish holding the dripping knife. The next man turned and Hamish slashed at his body, but caught him across the neck. Hot blood fountained into Hamish’s face as he slipped off the plankway, pulling Falkyr with him. By more swimming than crawling, Hamish pushed Falkyr in front of him under the building and toward the next alleyway.
“Where is your package?” Hamish whispered.
“I drop.”
“Stay here!”
“Leave it. Hamish, do not a fool!”
“Stay here!”
The voices and moans made it easy for Hamish to figure out where he’d crawled from. The attackers hadn’t started searching under the buildings yet. Hamish stood and could just reach the planks. He pulled himself back up onto the walkway and grabbed the hair of the closest attacker. He placed his knife at the man's throat and pulled so hard he was left holding a head. He screamed out in Islander, “Kill them all!”
Below him he saw Falkyer’s package in the mud. The remaining attackers were running. He jumped down into the mud and, trying to keep the package clean, crawled back under the flooring. Someone was coming at him, but with the package in the way he discarded the knife and attacked with a fist.
“Hamish!”
“Falkyr?”
“It be me.”
“Go, go. There still are more.” When they found another walkway Hamish pulled himself out of the mud and then helped Falkyr up after him. They then made no attempt to disguise their passage as they ran the rest of the way out of Newton.
To read the rest of 'The Binding Returned' and the other volumes of
The Five Books of Time
go to
Amazon.com:
Book 1DOOR
Volume 1 The Binding Returned
Paperback ISBN: 9781456576219
Kindle ASIN: B004QWZ9A4
Volume 2 The World Revealed
Paperback ISBN: 9781461163183
Kindle ASIN: B008CCMYY8
Volume 3 The Goddess Reborn
Paperback ISBN: 9781477677650
Kindle ASIN: B008CCO5WM
Volume 4 The Union Rejected
Book 2KEY
Volume 1 The Mastery Of Magic
Book 3NIGHTMARE
Volume 1 The Ending War
Book 4CLEANSING
Volume 1 The Period Of Prophecy
Book 5BIRTH
Volume 1 The Time Of Testing
A Conversation Overheard Page 4