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      To Granny, for inspiring me to rove the great wide and knowing the sea like you were Sea-Tribe.

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      First published in Great Britain 2017

      by Egmont UK Limited

      The Yellow Building, 1 Nicholas Road, London W11 4AN

      Text copyright © Sarah Driver, 2017

      Illustrations copyright © Joe McLaren, 2017

      Additional interior illustrations by Janene Spencer

      First e-book edition 2017

      ISBN 978 1 4052 8468 4

      Ebook ISBN 978 1 7803 1764 9

       www.egmont.co.uk

      A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library

      All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

      Stay safe online. Any website addresses listed in this book are correct at the time of going to print. However, Egmont is not responsible for content hosted by third parties. Please be aware that online content can be subject to change and websites can contain content that is unsuitable for children. We advise that all children are supervised when using the internet.

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      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

       Dedication and Copyright

       9: The Star Door

       10: Abomination

       11: The Runesmith and a Borrowed Longbow

       12: Hidden, Secret

       13: Swift Feathers

       14: Stench Songs

       15: Trespass

       PART 2: Hidden Places

       16: Bedraggled

       17: Yapok’s Iceberg

       18: Tea and Books and Butterballs

       19: Owl-weather

       20: Crow and the Dream-dancer

       21: Debauchery

       22: The Wild Tastes like Old Blood

       23: Dead Runes

       24: Black Rain

       25: Quiet Warriors

       26: No Hearth-welcome

       27: One Tribe’s Poison

       28: Monstrosity

       PART 3: Unity

       29: Spirit Battles

       30: Da

       31: Naming Ceremony

       Acknowledgements

       Back series promotional page

      I stand on the deck of the Huntress, blinking snowflakes from my eyelashes. In the palm of my hand rests a green jewel. When I peer inside it, my own grey eyes stare back, jolting ripples of shock through my chest in time with the oarsman’s drum.

       The jewel turns cold, wet and blubbery. Then it grows a spotted skin, like a whale shark. Gills wheeze open in its surface, oozing foam.

       I know, sure as the Sea-Tribe blood in my veins, that I’m holding the Storm-Opal of the sea.

       And I know I have to protect it, with every stitch of me, but the burden presses on my shoulders, heavier than the beat

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