A Gathering of Stones (Drinker of Souls Book 3) by Jo Clayton

By Jo Clayton

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She didn’t believe there could be more for her to learn; the last two years she’d spent consoli dating what she’d dredged up out of herself during the first eight years of her schooling. She didn’t want to believe there was more power out there waiting for her to tap into it; she was afraid of touching any hotter, wilder sources. There were times during the past ten years when she was working hot that the power she was shaping threatened to consume her. She managed to hang on, but each time was worse than the last, each time she came closer to losing it, a lesson she took to heart.

Swung round still squatting and began pulling grass from around a set. Korimenei flared her narrow nostrils, but swallowed the laughter bubbling in her throat; the Old Man could be touchy about his dignity at the most unexpected times. She resettled the rucksack and began walking again, following the path. 3 The tiny meadow was stony and dry in its upper reaches. An ancient conifer had fallen to a storm a decade or so past and now lay denuded of bark, slowly rotting into the earth it had grown from.

That’s it? ” “No. ” Maksim thought about coaxing him into a better humor. After a minute he decided better not. If it was ending, let it end. 3 Jastouk was gone when Maksim got back from provision ing the boat. He couldn’t send Todich home from Kukurul; if he had unfriends elsewhere, he had spitesons on his back in Kukurul who would sacrifice a firstborn to catch him when he was too whipped to defend himself. Spite and envy aside, the Managers who ran Kukurul would like nothing better than setting their claws into a sorceror of his rank; he couldn’t call his breath his own if they got hold of him.

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