A distant future. A world transformed.
Remnants of a shattered moon patrol the skies, memorials to an ancient and nearly-forgotten conflict. In an isolated northern land, civilisation's slow recovery is overseen by the reclusive, all-female, Guild of Dawnsingers, which holds a monopoly on advanced learning. Life seems peaceful and well-ordered, but are the Dawnsingers as benevolent as they seem? What secrets are they hiding? And what really lies beyond the mountains in the East?
Orphan Jerya finds a new home in the Dawnsingers' Guild, but her new life turns sour. Soon she finds herself struggling to reconcile the exhilaration of learning with growing doubts about the very basis of the Guild's rule. Ultimately she faces an agonising choice which could utterly change her life, and those of her two most trusted friends.
Remnants of a shattered moon patrol the skies, memorials to an ancient and nearly-forgotten conflict. In an isolated northern land, civilisation's slow recovery is overseen by the reclusive, all-female, Guild of Dawnsingers, which holds a monopoly on advanced learning. Life seems peaceful and well-ordered, but are the Dawnsingers as benevolent as they seem? What secrets are they hiding? And what really lies beyond the mountains in the East?
Orphan Jerya finds a new home in the Dawnsingers' Guild, but her new life turns sour. Soon she finds herself struggling to reconcile the exhilaration of learning with growing doubts about the very basis of the Guild's rule. Ultimately she faces an agonising choice which could utterly change her life, and those of her two most trusted friends.
A brief sample…
She felt her thoughts gathering impetus, like running down a steepening downhill path. What Rodal said about her 'going away'…. how could that be? But whatever was afoot, it was surely better to know than get mazed among unnamed fears.
She stepped on again. The great trees withdrew behind. A band of lighter wood, rowan and larch and sunny tangles of man-high undergrowth, screened the deep forest. Then they came into full sun, day-bleached colours and sudden heat. A butterfly tumbled away, bright as a candle-flame. They crossed flower-deep meadow, passed a row of beehives, skirted threadbare ground where goats were tethered. A stone path, a dodge under the leaning thorn-tree at the gate-like nick in the rocks beneath the tor, and she looked down into the stonecourt of Delven.
The whole village seemed to be gathered, men as well as women. All eyes seemed to follow her as she started down the steps, but it was the silence that made her shiver, in spite of the heat. Now she grasped Rodal's fear.
She halted at the foot of the steps. Rodal darted a look over his shoulder, then stepped aside. Holdren faced her, tall and thin, space around him though the throng pressed behind.
"Come," he said, no more, but Jerya trembled. Behind his headman's gravity she sensed unease. She followed him, back up the steps she had just descended. At the top, just as Jerya was wondering where Holdren could possibly be leading her, he turned sharply to the right, onto the other steps, the one flight in all of Delven she had never climbed.
The breath fled Jerya's body. Holdren was halfway up before she could gather her wits and her skirt-hem and scramble after him.
She felt her thoughts gathering impetus, like running down a steepening downhill path. What Rodal said about her 'going away'…. how could that be? But whatever was afoot, it was surely better to know than get mazed among unnamed fears.
She stepped on again. The great trees withdrew behind. A band of lighter wood, rowan and larch and sunny tangles of man-high undergrowth, screened the deep forest. Then they came into full sun, day-bleached colours and sudden heat. A butterfly tumbled away, bright as a candle-flame. They crossed flower-deep meadow, passed a row of beehives, skirted threadbare ground where goats were tethered. A stone path, a dodge under the leaning thorn-tree at the gate-like nick in the rocks beneath the tor, and she looked down into the stonecourt of Delven.
The whole village seemed to be gathered, men as well as women. All eyes seemed to follow her as she started down the steps, but it was the silence that made her shiver, in spite of the heat. Now she grasped Rodal's fear.
She halted at the foot of the steps. Rodal darted a look over his shoulder, then stepped aside. Holdren faced her, tall and thin, space around him though the throng pressed behind.
"Come," he said, no more, but Jerya trembled. Behind his headman's gravity she sensed unease. She followed him, back up the steps she had just descended. At the top, just as Jerya was wondering where Holdren could possibly be leading her, he turned sharply to the right, onto the other steps, the one flight in all of Delven she had never climbed.
The breath fled Jerya's body. Holdren was halfway up before she could gather her wits and her skirt-hem and scramble after him.
