In the Wells of Ihrain lies--perhaps--the magical key to resisting the Dark, whose walls of ice are advancing against human holdings. The humans have settled into an uneasy truce with the Pramans, who possess the wells, as a result of the crisis, but, in gross violation of the truce, the Pramans are about to send a spy, the warrior Else, to the human Patriarchy of the West. Else has defeated a creature of the Dark in battle--an outcome that was supposed to be impossible, and on the principle of "Do a little more, and you will be given still more," he is tapped for the espionage assignment, which by the end of this book, at least, hasn't become the suicide mission it seems to be. Whether it will in the next book assures plenty of fantasy readers for the immediate sequel to the first volume of the Instrumentalities of the Night, which promises to be a grim and sweeping epic, indeed. Roland GreenCopyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved ReviewPraise for Glen Cook"Cook's talent for combining gritty realism and high fantasy provides a singular edge." --Library Journal on Water Sleeps"Cook provides a rich world of assorted races, cultures, and religions; his characters combine the mythic or exotic with the realistic, engaging in absorbing alliances, enmities, and double-crosses." --Publishers Weekly on Bleak Seasons"Sheer page-turning fun!" --Robin McKinley on Bleak Seasons

From Publishers WeeklyThe elaborately wrought second installment (after 2005's Tyranny of the Night) in Cook's dark military fantasy saga promotes Piper Hecht—previously known as Else Tage before he vanquished an immortal foe—to the rank of captain-general under Emperor Sublime V. While Piper staves off the menace of the Tyranny of the Night, which is slowly freezing the lands around the Mother Sea, he also battles the Patriarchs, stubborn in their opposition to imperial rule. Cook ups the intrigue when Piper discovers a necromancer lurking among his supposedly trustworthy allies, while a prophet thought long dead reappears and allies himself with the captain-general. The lovely and intelligent Anna Mozilla warms Piper's bed and heart when he's not occupied with magical and military threats. Though Cook makes few concessions to new readers, his fans will enjoy the sword fights and potent magic, all motivated by complex religious and political power struggles. (Feb.) Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. From BooklistThe Tyranny of the Night is freezing the lands around the Mother Sea, endangering all humans but hardly stopping the endangered from fighting one another. Anne of Menard is funding the Patriarchs' armies against Sublime V to prevent Grail Empire expansion. Sublime V captain-general Piper Hecht (formerly Else Tage; see The Tyranny of the Night, 2005) discovers a necromancer among supposed allies and a 100-year-old prophet alive and inclined to support him. In his free time, Hecht raises children, struggles with convoluted Grail Empire policies, and tries to figure out what the old gods want and how to counter it. Frieda MurrayCopyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved Review“Timely and timeless…The author of the Black Company series brings a stark realism to his tales of imaginary lands.”--Library Journal (starred review) on The Tyranny of the Night “Complex and compelling…It is a powerful fantasy, combining a fast-moving plot with an introduction into this world of patriarchal schism, greedy churchmen and nobles, and cynical soldiers bent on survival.”--VOYA on The Tyranny of the Night “The thing about Glen Cook is that with The Black Company he singlehandedly changed the face of fantasy—something a lot of people didn’t notice and maybe still don’t. He brought the story down to a human level, dispensing with the cliché archetypes of princes, kings, and evil sorcerers. Reading his stuff was like reading Vietnam War fiction on peyote.” --Steven Erikson, author of Gardens of the MoonBook DescriptionIts cold. The wells of power are weakening, and the forces of Night are strong. The gods are real, and they still have some power, mostly to do harm. The Instrumentalities of the Night are the worst of these. Piper Hecht, born Else Tage, survived a battle with the Instrumentalities. Now hes captain-general of the armies fighting a crusade for Patriarch Sublime V. Intrigues swirl around the throne of the Grail Empire, as the imperial familys enemy Anne of Menand raises money to help the perpetually indebted Patriarch finance his crusades. Now Piper Hecht learns that the legendary sorcerer Cloven Februaren, referred to as the Ninth Unknown, is still alive, more than one hundred years old, and on his side. As the dynastic politics of the Empire become even more convoluted, its clear that while the old gods may be fading, theyre determined to do everything they can to bend the doings of men to their own advantage. Sieges, explosions, betrayals, Anti-Patriarchs, and suspicious deaths will ensue as the great chess game plays itself out, with Piper Hecht at the center of it all. Dark, exciting, gritty, and sometimes bleakly funny, this is Glen Cook in his Black Company mode, writing military fantasy of compelling intensity. About the AuthorThe author of many novels of science fiction and fantasy, including the bestselling “Black Company” series, Glen Cook lives in St. Louis, Missouri.Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.Chapter One: Caron ande Lette, in the End of ConnecThe enemy came out of the forest on the Ellow Hills, sudden as a spring squall. There had been no rumor of their coming. Brock Rault, the Seuir ande Lette, thought they were bandits when the first handful appeared. Then his conscience threw up the fear that they might represent Tormond of Khaurene. The Duke of the End of Connec had forbidden the construction of new fortifications except under ducal charter. Unfinished, Lette was just the sort of fastness that Tormond had proscribed.Fortifications were appearing throughout the End of Connec. And caused more despair than comfort. The universal inclination seemed to be, once a man was confident of his own defenses, to hire mercenaries and become a plague upon his neighbors.The Seuir ande Lette was an exception. Barely twenty-one, nevertheless, he had been with Count Raymone Garete at the Black Mountain Massacre and was a veteran of the Calziran Crusade. He had smelled the cruel beast War's foul breath. He had tasted blood. He loathed his family's enemies but never so much that he felt compelled to gift them with terror, death, or pain.Peace was the root of his faith, though he was a warrior born and consecrated.Brock Rault was Maysalean, a Seeker After Light. Peaceable by belief and a heretic by declaration of the Brothen Episcopal Church. He did not hide his beliefs.The enemy drew closer, too quickly for some peasants to get safely inside Caron ande Lette. The Seuir realized that the invaders were no brigands. But neither were they much more, except in numbers. A banner identified them as followers of the Grolsacher mercenary captain, Haiden Backe. Backe operated under letters of marque from Patriarch Sublime V. He roamed the northeastern marches of the Connec, supposedly punishing heretics. In actuality, he plundered anyone who would not buy an exemption.For his troubles, Haiden Backe received a third of the plunder, which he had to share with his troops. The rest went to the Church.The Church was desperate for funds. Sublime had to repay loans taken during the Calziran Crusade. Any default meant there would be no loans in future. Nor had he yet finished paying for votes he had bought during the Patriarchal election. And he wanted to raise new armies to launch another crusade against the Pramans occupying much of the Holy Lands.Past crusades had established Brothen Episcopal footholds amongst the Wells of Ihrian, as Crusader principalities and kingdoms. During the last decade, though, those states had been under severe pressure from the Kaifate of Qasr al-Zed and its great champion, Indala al-Sul Halaladin. Sublime desperately wanted history to acclaim him the Patriarch who wrested the Holy Lands from the Unbeliever forever. His extermination of heresy at home would finance the glorious mission overseas.Honario Benedocto, who had schemed and bribed his way into the Patriarchy, was loathed with enthusiasm by millions.The Seuir ande Lette turned to his nearest companion, a gray man in his early sixties. "What say you, Perfect Master? It seems the hour of despair has arrived sooner than you forethought."The Perfect Master of the Path, Brother Candle from Khaurene, bowed his head. "I'm tempted to declare my shame. As though my coming conjured this pestilence. As to advice, I can only repeat the admonition of the Synod of St. Jeules. Let no Seeker After Light be first to raise his hand against another man. But let no Seeker strengthen evil through any failure to resist it."Brother Candle had argued against that stance. He was a pacifist at heart. But once the synod reached its decision he set out to prepare his Seeker brethren to defend themselves. Some would destroy them rather than recognize their special relationship with the Divine.The young knight told Brother Candle, "He'll talk first. His men won't want a real fight or a long siege. Get away from Lette while you can."Brother Candle stared out at the raiders. Few of them were driven by their devotion to the Episcopal faith. They were mercenaries because they could do nothing else. Without this marginally religious pretense they would be simple brigands.More than one darkness stalks the earth."No stain of cowardice would attach to you, Master," Brock Rault promised. "We'd all rather that one so rare as you be removed from harm's way. Haiden Backe will offer you no respect." Rault's brothers and cousins nodded as they prepared to fight. "And you can carry our plea for help to Count Raymone."Brother Candle went to stand alone, to meditate. To seek the best path. To discover how he could best serve. To let the Light move him.The flesh was loath to go. The flesh dreaded what secret thoughts others might entertain if he chose flight. Yet he would do no one any good, ever, if he let himself be butchered at Caron ande Lette. The Church would crow because one of the Adversary's most favored had fallen-while insisting that it had nothing to do with Haiden Backe's campaign. Slipping the Grolsacher a bonus for having disposed of one of those pesky Maysalean Perfects.Rault said, "I'll have a fast horse brought to the water postern.""I arrived on foot," the holy man replied. "So shall I depart."No one argued. A man afoot, in tattered clothing, would be ignored. The outlanders did not understand Maysalean vows of poverty.Brock Rault engaged the Grolsacher warlord in pointless discourse. He hinted that, offered the right terms, Caron ande Lette might yield without an exchange of blows. Haiden Backe would not find negotiations unusual. Connectens seldom chose to fight in the face of superior numbers. Then Brock's youngest brother, Thurm, reported, "The Perfect Master is out of sight."Rault grunted, gave the signal. The result would stain his soul indelibly. But he knew that soul would return for another turn around the wheel. He did not hesitate to greet evil with unexpected evil. He had learned that from Count Raymone Garete.Archers sprang up and let fly. Backe's standard bearer and herald fell from their horses, as did two priests in dun cassocks. A third priest, of substance because he wore armor, survived the hail but had to extricate himself from his wounded mount.Haiden Backe flung a hand into the path of an arrow streaking toward his face. Which exposed the gap in armor under his arm. An arrow found it, broke as its head hit a rib, and turned. It failed to reach his heart.A companion snatched the reins of Backe's horse. The remaining raiders galloped away, pursued by missiles. A ballista shaft slammed through one, deep into the neck of his mount.Only the armored priest escaped unscathed.Brock's sister Socia, just sixteen, observed, "Sublime will use this against us.""Of course he will. But these men, who don't work for the Patriarch, were here already, without just cause. They mean to steal our lives, our fortunes, and our good names. What else can their not-employer take away?"Thurm sneered, "He could always excommunicate us."Everyone in earshot laughed.Brock said, "None of those people appear to have perished. Let's help them get to this heaven they're determined to force upon us."Even the fallen priests were disinclined to meet their God today. One volunteered to renounce Sublime V in favor of the Anti-Patriarch, Immaculate II.Brock let that one inscribe a letter confessing the Brothen Church's Grolsacher connections. He had the rest bound to stakes and left to the mercy of their deity. Within easy bowshot. Should their fellows be overwhelmed by an impulse to rescue them.The mercenary force surrounded Caron ande Lette."Wow!" Socia said. Fearfully. "There's a lot of them.""But in disarray," Brock replied. "They don't know what to do now. And Haiden Backe can't tell them."That situation persisted for three days. Backe's underlings launched several clumsy attacks. Each failed.Haiden Backe lost his struggle with fever and sepsis. The Bishop of Strang, the Grolsacher priest who could afford armor, declared himself Backe's successor. The mercenaries quickly expressed their confidence in the Bishop and the aims of the Brothen Patriarch. That night more than thirty resigned under cover of darkness.Morcant Farfog, Bishop of Strang, was one of countless corrupt, incompetent bishops associated with the Brothen Patriarchy. Sublime had found that he could ease his fiscal woes by selling new bishoprics.A rudimentary bureaucracy meant to raise funds through sales of livings, pardons, bequests, and indulgences was in its formative stage.Sublime needed the money.The Anti-Patriarch, Immaculate, at Viscesment, moaned and carried on but never really seized the moral opportunity. He was close to abandoning the struggle against the Usurpers of the Mother City.The mercenaries besieging Caron ande Lette had little to recommend them. But most were not stupid. Few failed to see through Bishop Farfog's bluster. He was supremely incompetent, completely self-involved, and certain to cause fatalities amongst those dim enough to remain in his vicinity.Desertions continued apace.Two hours of brisk hiking took Brother Candle to Artlan ande Brith. Seuir Lanne Tuldse was a skeletal, elderly Maysalean knight. Seuir Lanne had kept faith with Khaurene. He had observed the letter of Duke Tormond's proclamation against erecting fortifications."Come," Seuir Lanne told the Perfect Master. "We'll go up to the house. From there you'll be able to see the smoke if they fire Caron ande Lette.""The house" was a stone manor balanced precariously atop a tall, bristling outcrop of weathered limestone. Not, strictly, a fortress. But difficult to enter if the inhabitants preferred that you stay out.Fifteen minutes after the Perfect Master's arrival Lanne Tuldse's grandson galloped south toward Antieux. He would raise alarums along the wa...

& co.

Akodo a écrit :

& co.

Y a plus grand chose à raconter sur "& co" si je me souviens bien