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Informationen zum Autor Beloved author Tamora Pierce has written a great number of books, including the Song of the Lioness quartet, The Immortals quartet, the Circle of Magic quartet, the Protector of the Small quartet, The Circle Opens quartet, the Trickster series, The Will of the Empress, Melting Stones, the Beka Cooper series, and The Numair Chronicles. She lives in upstate New York with various cats, other four-legged animals, and birds who feed in her yard, and can be e-visited at Tamora-Pierce.net. Klappentext Daine must confront a powerful leader in this third book of the Immortals series, featuring an updated cover for longtime fans and fresh converts alike, and including an all-new afterword from Tamora Pierce. When Daine is sent to Carthak as part of a Tortallan peace delegation, she finds herself in the middle of a sticky political situation. She doesn't like the Carthaki practice of keeping slaves, but it's not her place to say anything?she's only there to heal the emperor's birds. Her worries only expand once she learns that her own power has grown in a dark and mysterious way. As the peace talks stall, Daine puzzles over Carthak's two-faced Emperor Ozorne. How can he be so caring with his birds, and so cruel to his people? Daine is sure he's planning something?a terrible, power-hungry scheme. And she knows that she must fight this powerful Emperor Mage; the life of her beloved teacher is at risk.Emperor Mage ONE GUESTS IN CARTHAK His Royal Highness Kaddar, prince of Siraj, duke of Yamut, count of Amar, first lord of the Imperium, heir apparent to His Most Serene Majesty Emperor Ozorne of Carthak, fanned himself and wished the Tortallans would dock. He had been waiting aboard the imperial galley since noon, wearing the panoply of his office as the day, hot for autumn, grew hotter. He shot a glare at the nobles and academics on hand to welcome the visitors: they could relax under the awnings. Imperial dignity kept him in this unshaded chair, where a gold surface collected the sun to throw it back into his eyes. Looking about, the prince saw the captain, leaning on the rail, scowl and make the Sign against evil on his chest. A stinging fly chose that moment to land on Kaddar’s arm. He yelped, swatted the fly, got to his feet, and removed the crown. “Enough of this. Bring me something to drink,” he ordered the slaves. “Something cold.” He went to the captain, trying not to wince as too-long-inactive legs tingled. “What on earth are you staring at?” “Tired of broiling, Your Highness?” The man spoke without looking away from the commercial harbor outside the breakwater enclosing the imperial docks. He could speak to Kaddar with less formality than most, since he had taught the prince all that young man knew of boats and sailing. “Very funny. What has you making the Sign?” The captain handed the prince his spyglass. “See for yourself, Highness.” Kaddar looked through the glass. All around the waterfront, birds made use of every visible perch. On masts, ledges, gutters, and ropes they sat, watching the harbor. He found pelicans, birds of prey—on the highest, loneliest perches—songbirds, the gray-and-brown sparrows that lived in the city. Even ship rails sported a variety of feathered creatures. Eerily, that vast collection was silent. They stared at the harbor without uttering a sound. “It ain’t just birds, Prince,” the captain remarked. “Lookit the docks.” Kaddar spied dogs and cats, under apparent truce, on every inch of space available. Not all were scruffy alley mongrels or mangy har...
