ТОП просматриваемых книг сайта:
Sky. Sarah Driver
Читать онлайн.Название Sky
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781780317649
Автор произведения Sarah Driver
Жанр Учебная литература
Серия The Huntress Trilogy
Издательство HarperCollins
To Granny, for inspiring me to rove the great wide and knowing the sea like you were Sea-Tribe.
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
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.
Contents
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
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