The Hidden City
The final breathtaking volume in the Tamuli series.Queen Ehlana has been taken prisoner and held in the Hidden City as the time for battle approaches.The face of the enemy has been unmasked as Cyrgon, the sinister god of the Cyrgai. Corrupted further by unspeakable magic, he threatens to destroy the world in his lust for power.In exchange for their help in defeating Cyrgon and saving his beloved Ehlana, Sparhawk has offered freedom to the Troll-Gods trapped in their sacred jewel, the Blue Rose. However, this carries its own cost . . . But what price is too high when the fate of the world and everything you hold dear are threatened.
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DAVID
EDDINGS
THE HIDDEN CITY
The Tamuli Book Three
HarperVoyager An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London SE1 9GF
This edition 2006
Previously published in paperback by Voyager 1996, reprinted twelve times.
First published in Great Britain by
HarperCollins Science Fiction and Fantasy 1995
Copyright © David Eddings 1994
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2015 Cover image texture © Shutterstock.com
The Author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
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Source ISBN: 9780007217083
Ebook Edition © MARCH 2011 ISBN: 9780007368051 Version: 2015-08-03
FOR DR BRUCE GRAY
for his enthusiasm and his technical advice -
and for keeping our favorite author (and wife) alive
AND FOR NANCY GRAY, R.N.
who takes care of everybody else,
and neglects to take care of herself.
Shape up, Nancy.
CONTENTS
PART ONE: Berit
PART TWO: Natayos
PART THREE: Cyrga
Also by the Author
Professor Itagne of the Foreign Affairs Department of the University of Matherion sat on the platform reviewing his notes. It was early in the evening of a fine spring day, and the windows of the auditorium where the faculty of the college of Political Science had gathered were open to admit the smell of flowers and grass and the faintly distracting sound of bird-song.
Professor Emeritus Gintana of the International Trade Department stood at the lectern droning on interminably about twenty-seventh century tariff regulations. Gintana was a wispy, white-haired, and slightly vague academic customarily referred to as âthat dear old manâ. Itagne was not really listening to him.
This was not going to go well, he concluded wryly, crumpling up and discarding yet another sheet of notes. Word of his subject had been broadcast across the campus, and academics from as far away as Applied Mathematics and Contemporary Alchemy packed the hall, their eyes bright with anticipation. The entire faculty of the Contemporary History Department filled the front rows, their black academic robes making them look like a flock of crows. Contemporary History was here in force to ensure all the fireworks anyone could hope for.
Itagne idly considered a feigned collapse. How in the name of God â any God â was he going to get through the next hour without making a total ass of himself? He had all the facts, of course, but what rational man would believe the facts? A straightforward account of what had really happened during the recent turmoil would sound like the ravings of a lunatic. If he stuck to straight truth, the hacks from Contemporary History would not have to say a word. He could destroy his own reputation with no help from them at all.
Itagne took one more brief glance at his carefully prepared notes. Then he bleakly folded them and thrust them back into the voluminous sleeve of his academic robe. What was going to happen here tonight would more closely resemble a tavern brawl than reasoned discourse. Contemporary History had obviously showed up to shout him down. Itagne squared his shoulders. Well, if they wanted a fight, heâd give them one.
A breeze had come up. The curtains at the tall windows rustled and billowed, and the golden tongues of flame flickering in the oil lamps wavered and danced. It was a beautiful spring evening â everywhere but here inside this auditorium.
There was a polite spattering of applause, and old professor Gintana, flustered and confused by this acknowledgement of his existence, bowed awkwardly, clutched his notes in both hands, and tottered back to his seat. Then the Dean of the College of Political Science rose to announce the eveningâs main event. âColleagues,â he began, âbefore Professor Itagne favors us with his remarks, I would like to take this opportunity to introduce some visitors of note. Iâm sure you will all join with me in welcoming Patriarch Emban, First Secretary of the Church of Chyrellos, Sir Bevier, the Cyrinic Knight from Arcium and Sir Ulath of the Genidian Order located in Thalesia.â
