By Jane Lindskold
As evocative and relocating as Charles de Lint’s Newford books, with the 3-dimensional protagonists and mesmerizing motion of Mercedes Lackey’s fantasies, Nine Gates makes our international this day as excitingly unusual and surprising as any myth realm… and transports readers to a wondrous magical global drawn from chinese language lore and legend.
Brenda Morris has slightly had time to develop into acquainted with the concept that she has many of the powers of the Rat, a member of the chinese language Zodiac; that her aged, former child-star “aunt,” Pearl, is the Dragon; and that the younger African-American former soldier she trains beside is the Dog. Brenda has realized that our international isn't the merely international and that her not-quite-Chinese ancestors got here from a mystical position, the Lands of Smoke and Sacrifice, created hundreds of thousands of years in the past by means of the destruction of China’s books and students throughout the time of the 1st Emperor.
Now, generations later, the Lands are once more at warfare, and the magics of the 13 Orphans are desperately needed. A undertaking to seize these powers went disastrously improper and now the Lands’ Dragon, Tiger, Snake, and Monkey are trapped on the earth until the Orphans can construct the 9 Gates. to do this, they have to first shop the 4 Guardians of the land between, who're below magical attack. Complicating issues is the truth that Brenda has fallen demanding for the good-looking guy who's the Tiger, a lot to the misery of the sensual younger lady who's the Snake.
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Additional info for Nine Gates (Breaking the Wall, Book 2)
Golden oblongs of sunshine lay heavy on a black and white tiled ﬂoor. The ﬂoor and kitchen were old, but the appliances were new. One of those deluxe refrigerators with an ice maker and water dispenser took up a hunk of the back wall. All the appliances were done in a pale yellow: Harvest Gold, Autumn Bronze. Sitting at the kitchen table was a woman in her early sixties. Her thin brown face was seamed with a lot of smile lines. Pure white hair was done in a bun at the nape of her neck. She sat very straight in her chair, thin-boned hands folded on the tabletop.
Sometimes it’s goat blood, but more often chicken. I had compromised on the outﬁt, caught between showing respect and not melting in the heat. It would have been easy if I hadn’t planned 32 LAURELL K. HAMILTON to carry a gun with me. Call me paranoid, but I don’t leave home without it. The acid washed jeans, jogging socks, and Nikes were easy. An Uncle Mike’s inter-pants holster complete with a Firestar 9mm completed the outﬁt. The Firestar was my backup piece to the Browning Hi-Power. The Browning was far too bulky to put down an inter-pants holster, but the Firestar ﬁt nicely.
A lot of hate in old Tony. It never occurred to him to pat me down for weapons. Tsk-tsk. A second man came to the screen door. He was in his late forties, maybe. He was wearing a white undershirt with a plaid shirt unbuttoned over it. The sleeves were folded back as far as they’d go. Sweat stood out on his forehead. I was betting there was a gun at the small of his back. His black hair had a pure white streak just over the forehead. ” His voice was thick and held an accent. ” The older man nodded.