Legends, Volume 3: Short Novels by the Masters of Modern Fantasy (Legends, Volume 3)

Legends, Volume 3: Short Novels by the Masters of Modern Fantasy (Legends, Volume 3)

Language: English

Pages: 196

ISBN: 2:00351991

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

The great anthology of short novels by the masters of modern fantasy.

Robert Jordan relates crucial events in the years leading up to The Wheel of Time in "New Spring."

Ursula K. Le Guin adds a sequel to her famous books of Earthsea, portraying a woman who wants to learn magic, in "Dragonfly."

Tad Williams tells a dark and enthralling story of a haunted castle in the age before Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn, in "The Burning Man."

Terry Pratchett relates an amusing incident in Discworld, of a magical contest and the witch Granny Weatherwax, in "The Sea and Little Fishes."

Introduction by Robert Silverberg
The Wheel of Time: New Spring by Robert Jordan
Earthsea: Dragonfly by Ursula K. Le Guin
Memory, Sorrow and Thorn: The Burning Man by Tad Williams
Discworld: The Sea and Little Fishes by Terry Pratchett

















but those cloud-shifting shadows aided her, too, cloaking her in mystery. With an effort she gave her voice every bit of cool Aes Sedai serenity she could muster. “It is unwise to show anything except respect to an Aes Sedai, Master Lan.” “Aes Sedai?” Ryne whispered. Despite the dim light, the awe on his face was clear. Or maybe it was fear. No one else made a sound, except for Bukama’s grumbles as he shifted his bed away from the mud. Ryne spent a long time moving his blankets in silence,

Dragonfly said, gazing now through the sheep, the hill, the trees, into still depths, a colorless, vast emptiness like the clear sky before sunrise. Rose watched her. She knew she did not know who Irian was or what she might be. A big, strong, awkward, ignorant, innocent, angry woman, yes. But ever since she was a child Rose had seen something more in her, something beyond what she was. And when Irian looked away from the world like that, she seemed to enter that place or time or being beyond

a man?” “So I could go to Roke! And see, and learn! Why, why is it only men can go there?” “So it was ordained by the first Archmage, centuries ago,” said Ivory. “But … I too have wondered.” “You have?” “Often. Seeing only boys and men, day after day, in the Great House and all the precincts of the School. Knowing that the townswomen are spellbound from so much as setting foot on the fields about Roke Knoll. Once in years, perhaps, some great lady is allowed to come briefly into the outer

enough to a small girl—ten times my own height and made of huge, rough stones that I could not imagine being hauled into place by anything smaller than the grandest of ogres—but the inner walls, in the places where they still stood, were not just vast but also beautiful. They were shaped of shining white stone that had been polished like jewelry, the blocks of equal size to those of the outer wall but with every join so seamless that from a distance each wall appeared to be a single thing, a

Feyever-month of that year when I began to realize that something more than simple distraction had overtaken my stepfather. I was reeling back down the corridor to my chamber—I had just kissed Tellarin farewell in the great hall, and was mad with the excitement of it—and I nearly stumbled into Lord Sulis. I was first startled, then terrified. My crime, I felt sure, must be as plain as blood on a white sheet. I waited trembling for him to denounce me. Instead he only blinked and held his candle

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