Blood of Dragons. Робин Хобб
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ROBIN HOBB
Blood of Dragons
HarperCollinsPublishers
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
Published by HarperVoyager
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 2013
Copyright © Robin Hobb 2013
Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers 2016
Illustration © Jackie Morris
Calligraphy by Stephen Raw
Cover photograph © Shutterstock.com (background)
Robin Hobb asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins
Source ISBN: 9780007444137
Ebook Edition © March 2013 ISBN: 9780007444151
Version 2016-05-19
I miss you, Ralph.
Table of Contents
Chapter Three: Hunters and Prey
Chapter Four: Opening Negotiations
Chapter Eight: City of Elderlings
Chapter Ten: Tintaglia’s Touch
Chapter Twelve: Dragon Warrior
Chapter Thirteen: Final Chances
Chapter Twenty: Dragon Decisions
Tintaglia awoke feeling chilled and old. She had made a good kill and eaten heavily, but had not rested well. The festering wound under her left wing made it hard to find a comfortable position. If she stretched out, the hot swollen place pulled, and if she curled up, she felt the jabbing of the buried arrow. The pain spread out in her wing now when she opened it, as if some thistly plant were sending out runners inside her, prickling her with thorns as it grew. The weather had become colder as she flew toward the Rain Wilds. There were no deserts, no warm sands in this region of the world. Heat seemed to well up from the earth’s heart in the Chalcedean deserts, making it nearly as warm as the southern lands were at this time of year. But now she had left the dry lands and warm sands behind, and winter’s stranglehold on spring had claimed its due. The cold stiffened the flesh around her wound, making each morning a torment.
IceFyre had not come with her. She had expected the old black dragon to accompany her, although she could not recall why. Dragons preferred to be solitary rather than social. To eat well, each needed a large hunting territory. It had only been when she had left his side and he had not followed that the humiliating realization had drenched her: she had been following him, all that time. She could not recall that he had ever requested her to stay; neither