Daughter of the Empire: An Epic Saga of the World on the by Raymond E. Feist

By Raymond E. Feist

Magic and homicide engulf the world of Kelewan.  Fierce warlords ignite a sour blood feud to enslave the empire of Tsuranuanni.  While within the opulent Imperial courts, assassins and spy-master plot crafty and devious intrigues opposed to the rightful heir.  Now Mara, a tender, untested Ruling girl, is termed upon to steer her humans in a heroic fight for survival.  But first she needs to rally a military of insurgent warriors, shape a pact with the alien cho-ja, and marry the son of a hated enemy.  Only then can Mara face her most threatening foe of all--in his personal impregnable stronghold.  An epic story of experience and intrigue.  Daughter of the Empire is delusion of the top order by means of of the main proficient writers within the box this present day.

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She sought diversion outside her litter, where clever hawkers sold wares from wheelbarrows at corners, beggars accosted passersby with tales of misery, jugglers offered antics, and merchants presented rare, beautiful silk as they passed. But all failed to shield her mind from pain. The market fell behind and they left the city. Beyond the walls of Sulan-Qu, cultivated fields stretched towards a line of bluish mountains on the horizon; the Kyamaka range was not so rugged or so high as the great High Wall to the north, but the valleys remained wild enough to shelter bandits and outlaws.

Jolted by a terrible current of fear, she struggled, half glimpsing a man in black robes behind her. Then a blow to the face stunned her. Her hair was released and a cord was passed over her head. Instinctively she grabbed at it. Her fingers tangled in the loop that should have killed her in seconds, but as the man tightened the garrotte, her palm prevented the knot in the centre from crushing her windpipe. Still she couldn't breathe. Her attempt to shout for aid was stifled. She tried to roll away, but her assailant jerked upon the cord and held her firmly in check.

Mara peeked as the gong rang again. The stone features of the goddess now seemed set in gentle rebuke; virtue began with the individual, she reminded. Help would come only to those who truly searched for enlightenment. Mara lowered her eyes. The gong reverberated and through the dying shiver of harmonics another sound intruded, a disturbance wholly out of place. Sandals scuffed upon stone in the antechamber, accompanied by the dull clank of weapons and armour. Outside the curtain an attending priest challenged in a harsh whisper, 'Stop, warrior!

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