Nothing and nobody could change that now. He said you offered him sick pornographies.
Gideon the Ninth (Locked Tomb Trilogy, 1): www.macsaveny.com: Tamsyn Muir: Books
Gideon's palms prickled again. She'd sat back down on her awkward throne of rocks and balanced her watch between her knees, staring at the tiny mechanical hand that counted the minutes. The Cohort's not going to care about that though. Have I mentioned the Cohort? You do know the Cohort, right? The Cohort I've left to enlist in Aiglamene dragged herself into the small light of the landing field. The captain of the House guard had a head of melty scars and a missing leg which an indifferently talented bone adept had replaced for her.
It bowed horribly and gave her the appearance of a building with the foundations hastily shored up. She was younger than Crux, which was to say, old as balls: but she had a quickness to her, a liveliness, that was clean. The marshal was classic Ninth and he was filthy rotten all the way through. She checked back on her clockwork: fourteen minutes to go. The time before that she turned off the heating and I got frostbite in three toes.
Time before that: she poisoned my food and had me crapping blood for a month. Need I go on. I'm indentured, not a slave. I'm no fiscal use to her here. You chose a bad day to fly the coop. There's nothing she can do. I'll keep my nose clean. Keep my mouth shut. I'll even — you can write this down, you can quote me here — do my duty to the Ninth House. But don't pretend at me, Aiglamene, that the moment I go down there a sack won't come down over my head and I won't spend the next five weeks concussed in an oss.
Your Lady would slather burning turds on the great- aunts if she thought it would ruin my day. Your Lady is the nastiest b —". When Aiglamene slapped her, it had none of the trembling affrontedness Crux might have slapped her with. She simply backhanded Gideon the way you might hit a barking animal.
Gideon's head was starry with pain. The bell was real. Will you come to muster of your own accord, or will you disgrace me? There was a time when she had done many things to avoid disgracing Aiglamene. It was easy to be a disgrace in a vacuum, but she had a soft spot for the old soldier. Nobody had ever loved her in the House of the Ninth, and certainly Aiglamene did not love her and would have laughed herself to her overdue death at the idea: but in her had been a measure of tolerance, a willingness to loosen the leash and see what Gideon could do with free rein.
Gideon loved free rein. Aiglamene had convinced the House to put a sword in Gideon's hands, not to waste her on serving altar or drudging in the oss. Aiglamene wasn't faithless. Gideon looked down and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and saw the blood in her saliva and saw her sword; and she loved her sword so much she could frigging marry it. But she also saw her clock's minute hand ticking, ticking down. Twelve minutes to go. You didn't cut loose by getting soft. For all its mouldering brittleness, the Ninth was hard as iron.
I'm naturally demeaning. Her sword-master held her gaze with her aged hawk's face and her pouchy socket of an eye, and it was grim, but Gideon didn't look away. It would have made it somewhat easier if Aiglamene had made a Crux out of it and cursed her lavishly, but all she said was: "Such a quick study, and you still don't understand. That's on my head, I suppose. The more you struggle against the Ninth, Nav, the deeper it takes you; the louder you curse it, the louder they'll have you scream.
Back straight as a poker, Aiglamene walked away with her funny seesawing walk, and Gideon felt as though she'd failed a test. It didn't matter, she told herself. Two down, none to go. Eleven minutes until landing, her clockwork told her, eleven minutes and she was out. That was the only thing that mattered. That was the only thing that had mattered since a much younger Gideon had realised that, unless she did something drastic, she was going to die here down in the dark.
Nav was a Niner name, but Gideon didn't know where she'd been born.
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The remote, insensate planet where she lived was home to both the stronghold of the House and a tiny prison, used only for those criminals whose crimes were too repugnant for their own Houses to rehabilitate them on home turf. She'd never seen the place. The Ninth House was an enormous hole cracked vertically into the planet's core, and the prison a bubble installation set halfway up into the atmosphere where the living conditions were probably a hell of a lot more clement.
Home 1 Books 2. Add to Wishlist. Sign in to Purchase Instantly. Members save with free shipping everyday! See details. The Ninth Necromancer needs a swordswoman. Gideon has a sword, some dirty magazines, and no more time for undead nonsense. Her characters leap off the page, as skillfully animated as arcane revenants. The result is a heart-pounding epic science fantasy. Brought up by unfriendly, ossifying nuns, ancient retainers, and countless skeletons, Gideon is ready to abandon a life of servitude and an afterlife as a reanimated corpse. She packs up her sword, her shoes, and her dirty magazines, and prepares to launch her daring escape.
Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Reverend Daughter of the Ninth House and bone witch extraordinaire, has been summoned into action. The Emperor has invited the heirs to each of his loyal Houses to a deadly trial of wits and skill. If Harrowhark succeeds she will be become an immortal, all-powerful servant of the Resurrection, but no necromancer can ascend without their cavalier.
Of course, some things are better left dead.
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She currently lives and works in Oxford, in the United Kingdom. Gideon said, "Don't make the mistake of drawing on me, Crux. You didn't get her permission.
Your Lady is the nastiest b —" When Aiglamene slapped her, it had none of the trembling affrontedness Crux might have slapped her with. And — worst of all — that would only be the beginning. Continues… Excerpted from "Gideon The Ninth" by. Excerpted by permission of Tom Doherty Associates. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher. Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. Show More. Related Searches. Critical Point.
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