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‘Waves twice the height of the masts rolled past, foaming with ice and rime. Then Murl saw it, a dazzling sapphire figure breaching the surface: helmed, armoured, a tall lance of jagged ice couched at the hip. Its mount seemed half beast and half roiling wave. He fancied it turned a dark inscrutable gaze his way through cheek-guards of frozen scale. Then, just as suddenly, the Rider dived, returning to the churning sea. Another broached the surface further out. Then another…The small island of Malaz and its city gave the great empire its name, but now it is little more than a sleepy backwater port. This night, however, a little different. This night the city is sometimes on edge and a hive of hurried, sometimes violent actibity; its citizens bustle about, barring doors and windows, avoiding any stranger’s stare. Because this night there is to be a convergence, the once-in-a-generation appearance of a Shadow Moon – an occasion that threatens the good people of Malaz with demon hounds and other darker things ...
... The Riders cared nothing for them. They were here for another reason, answering some inhuman summons, heaving themselves northwards, an invading army throwing its might against the one thing that had confined them for so long to this narrow passage of water: the island of Malaz…
Bibliography
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