Princeps’ Fury by Jim Butcher EPUB & PDF – eBook Details
- Author: Jim Butcher
- Genre: Coming of Age Fantasy
- Publish Date: November 24, 2009
- Size: 1.8 MB
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Avail for Download
- Price: Free
On his previous voyages, it had taken Tavi several days to recover from his
seasickness—but those voyages had never taken him out into the ocean
deeps. There was, he learned, a vast difference between staying within a long
day’s sail of land and daring the deep blue sea. He could not believe how
high the waves could roll, out in the empty ocean. It often seemed that the
Slive was sailing up the side of a great blue mountain, only to sled down its
far side once it had reached the summit. The wind and the expertise of
Demos’s crew of scoundrels kept the sails constantly taut, and the Slive
rapidly took the lead position in the fleet.
By Tavi’s order, Demos kept his ship even with the Trueblood, the
flagship of the Canim leader, Varg. Demos’s crew chafed under the order,
Tavi knew. Though the Trueblood was almost unbelievably graceful for a
vessel her size, compared to the nimble Slive she moved like a river barge.
Demos’s men longed to show the Canim what their ship could do, and give
the vast, black ship a view of their stern.
Tavi was tempted to allow it. Anything to end the voyage a little sooner.
The greatly increased activity of the waves had increased his motion
sickness proportionately, and though it had, mercifully, abated somewhat
since those first few horrible days, it hadn’t ever gone away completely, and
eating food remained a dubious proposition, at best. He could keep down a
little bread, and weak broth, but not much more. He had a constant headache,
now, which grew more irritating by the day.
“Little brother,” growled the grizzled old Cane. “You Alerans are a shortlived race. Have you grown old and feeble enough to need naps in
From her position in the hammock slung from the rafters of the little cabin,
Kitai let out a little silver peal of laughter.
Tavi shook himself out of his reverie and glanced at Gradash. The Cane
was something almost unheard of amongst the warrior caste—elderly. Tavi
knew that Gradash was over nine centuries old, as Alerans counted them, and
age had shrunken the Cane to the paltry size of barely seven and a half feet.
His strength was a frail shadow of what it had been when he was a warrior in
his prime. Tavi judged that he probably was no more than three or four times
as strong as a human being. His fur was almost completely silver, with only
bits of the solid, night-dark fur that marked him as a member of Varg’s
extended bloodline as surely as the distinctive pattern of notches cut into his
ears or the decorations upon the hilt of his sword.
“Your pardon, elder brother,” Tavi replied, speaking as Gradash had, in
Canish. “My mind wandered. I have no excuse.”
“He is so sick he can barely get out of his bunk,” Kitai said, her Canish
accent better than Tavi’s, “but he has no excuse.”
For More Read Download This Book