Fire by Kristin Cashore (English) Paperback Book

Description: Fire by Kristin Cashore It is not a peaceful time in the Dells. In King City, the young King Nash is clinging to the throne, while rebel lords build armies to unseat him. War is coming. And the mountains and forest are filled with spies and thieves. This is where Fire lives, a girl whose beauty is impossibly irresistible and who can control the minds of everyone around her. FORMAT Paperback LANGUAGE English CONDITION Brand New Publisher Description A breathtaking, marvelous Graceling Realm book from New York Times bestselling author Kristin Cashore.It is not a peaceful time in the Dells. In King City, the young King Nash is clinging to the throne, while rebel lords in the north and south build armies to unseat him. War is coming. And the mountains and forest are filled with spies and thieves. This is where Fire lives, a girl whose beauty is impossibly irresistible and who can control the minds of everyone around her. Exquisitely romantic, this companion to the highly praised Graceling has an entirely new cast of characters, save for one person who plays a pivotal role in both books. You dont need to have read Graceling to love Fire. But if you havent, youll be dying to read it next. This edition includes an article by and an interview with the author. Look for Kristin Cashores highly-anticipated return to the Graceling Realm, Winterkeep!"There are some books that stick with you for years, and Kristen Cashores Fire is one of them. Thoughtful, steamy and completely original, Fire is YA fantasy at its absolute best."—Sabaa Tahir, author of New York Times bestselling Ember in the Ashes on Fire* "There arent enough words to describe how awesome this book is." —Top Pick, Romantic Times, starred review of FireA New York Times bestsellerYALSA, Best Fiction for Young AdultsAmelia Elizabeth Walden Book Award Winner5 starred reviews Author Biography Kristin Cashore grew up in the northeast Pennsylvania countryside as the second of four daughters. She received a bachelors degree from Williams College and a masters from the Center for the Study of Childrens Literature at Simmons College, and she has worked as a dog runner, a packer in a candy factory, an editorial assistant, a legal assistant, and a freelance writer. She has lived in many places (including Sydney, New York City, Boston, London, Austin, and Jacksonville, Florida), and she currently lives in the Boston area. Her epic fantasy novels set in the Graceling Realm--Graceling, Fire, and Bitterblue--have won many awards and much high praise, including picks as ALA Best Books for Young Adults, School Library Journal Best Book of the Year, Booklist Editors Choice, and Publishers Weekly Best Book of the Year. In addition, Graceling was shortlisted for the William C. Morris Debut Award and Fire is an Amelia Elizabeth Walden Book Award Winner. Review Praise for FireA New York Times bestsellerYALSA, Best Fiction for Young AdultsAmelia Elizabeth Walden Book Award WinnerA Washington Post Best Book of the YearAn Amazon Best Book of the YearA Kirkus Reviews Best Book of the YearA Booklist Best Book of the YearA School Library Journal Best Book of the YearA Publishers Weekly Best Book of the Year"Cashore is wonderful, tough and nuanced—everything you could want from a writer." —Junot Díaz, author of The Brief Wonderous Life of Oscar Wao"There are some books that stick with you for years, and Kristen Cashores Fire is one of them. Thoughtful, steamy and completely original, Fire is YA fantasy at its absolute best."—Sabaa Tahir, author of New York Times bestselling Ember in the Ashes* "There arent enough words to describe how awesome this book is." —Top Pick, Romantic Times, starred review* "Piercing and elegant." —The Horn Book, starred review* "Fresh, hopeful, tragic and glorious." —Kirkus Reviews, starred review* "Shot through with romance and suspense. . .This is Fires story, and readers will fall in love with her. . .Marvelous." —SLJ, starred review* "Absorbing." —Publishers Weekly, starred review"Elegantly written. . .blazes with the questions of young adulthood. . .Compelling." —Washington Post"Breathtaking. . .Cashore is that rare gifted writer who can give a fantasy novel real depth." —Los Angeles Times"As a fantasy writer, Cashore sets herself apart with a passionate descriptive style." —New York Times Book Review* "Readers can enjoy this novel without having read Graceling. And enjoy it they will, with its vivid characters, convincing fantasy elements, gripping adventure scenes, and memorable love story." —Booklist, starred review Review Quote Praise for Fire A New York Times bestseller YALSA, Best Fiction for Young Adults Amelia Elizabeth Walden Book Award Winner A Washington Post Best Book of the Year An Amazon Best Book of the Year A Kirkus Reviews Best Book of the Year A Booklist Best Book of the Year A School Library Journal Best Book of the Year A Publishers Weekly Best Book of the Year "Cashore is wonderful, tough and nuanced--everything you could want from a writer." --Junot D Excerpt from Book Prologue Larch often thought that if it had not been for his newborn son, he never would have survived his wife Mikras death. It was half that the infant boy needed a breathing, functioning father who got out of bed in the mornings and slogged through the day; and it was half the child himself. Such a good-natured baby, so calm. His gurgles and coos so musical, and his eyes deep brown like the eyes of his dead mother. Larch was a game warden on the riverside estate of a minor lord in the southeastern kingdom of Monsea. When Larch returned to his quarters after a day in the saddle, he took the baby from the arms of the nursemaid almost jealously. Dirty, stinking of sweat and horses, he cradled the boy against his chest, sat in his wifes old rocker, and closed his eyes. Sometimes he cried, tears painting clean stripes down a grimy face, but always quietly, so that he would not miss the sounds the child made. The baby watched him. The babys eyes soothed him. The nursemaid said it was unusual for a baby so young to have such focused eyes. "Its not something to be happy about," she warned, "a child with strange eyes." Larch couldnt find it within himself to worry. The nursemaid worried enough for two. Every morning she examined the babys eyes, as was the unspoken custom of all new parents in the seven kingdoms, and every morning she breathed more easily once shed confirmed that nothing had changed. For the infant who fell asleep with both eyes the same color and woke with eyes of two different colors was a Graceling; and in Monsea, as in most of the kingdoms, Graceling babies immediately became the property of the king. Their families rarely saw them again. When the first anniversary of the birth of Larchs son had come and gone with no change to the boys brown eyes, the nursemaid still did not leave off her muttering. Shed heard tales of Graceling eyes that took more than a year to settle, and Graceling or not, the child was not normal. A year out of his mothers womb and already Immiker could say his own name. He spoke in simple sentences at fifteen months; he left his babyish pronunciation behind at a year and a half. At the beginning of her time with Larch, the nursemaid had hoped her care would gain her a husband and a strong, healthy son. Now she found the baby who conversed like a miniature adult while he drank at her breast, who made an eloquent announcement whenever his underwrappings needed to be changed, positively creepy. She resigned her post. Larch was happy to see the sour woman go. He constructed a carrier so that the child could hang against his chest while he worked. He refused to ride on cold or rainy days; he refused to gallop his horse. He worked shorter hours and took breaks to feed Immiker, nap him, clean his messes. The baby chattered constantly, asked for the names of plants and animals, made up nonsense poems that Larch strained to hear, for the poems always made Larch laugh. "Birdies love treetops to whirl themselves through, for inside of their heads they are birds," the boy sang absentmindedly, patting his hand on his fathers arm. Then, a minute later: "Father?" "Yes, son?" "You love the things that I love you to do, for inside of your head are my words." Larch was utterly happy. He couldnt remember why his wifes death had saddened him so. He saw now that it was better this way, he and the boy alone in the world. He began to avoid the people of the estate, for their tiresome company bored him, and he didnt see why they should deserve to share in the delight of his sons company. One morning when Immiker was three years old Larch opened his eyes to find his son lying awake beside him, staring at him. The boys right eye was gray. His left eye was red. Larch shot up, terrified and heartbroken. "Theyll take you," he said to his son. "Theyll take you away from me." Immiker blinked calmly. "They wont, because youll come up with a plan to stop them." To withhold a Graceling from the king was royal theft, punishable by imprisonment and fines Larch could never pay, but still Larch was seized by a compulsion to do what the boy said. They would have to ride east, into the rocky border mountains where hardly anyone lived, and find a patch of stone or scrub that could serve as a hiding place. As a game warden, Larch could track, hunt, build fires, and make a home for Immiker that no one would find. Immiker was remarkably calm about their flight. He knew what a Graceling was. Larch supposed the nursemaid had told him; or perhaps Larch himself had explained it and then forgotten hed done so. Larch was growing forgetful. He sensed parts of his memory closing up on him, like dark rooms behind doors he could no longer open. Larch attributed it to his age, for neither he nor his wife had been young when shed died birthing their son. "Ive wondered sometimes if your Grace has anything to do with speaking," Larch said as they rode the hills east, leaving the river and their old home behind. "It doesnt," Immiker said. "Of course it doesnt," Larch said, unable to fathom why hed ever thought it did. "Thats all right, son, youre young yet. Well watch out for it. Well hope its something useful." Immiker didnt respond. Larch checked the straps that held the boy before him in the saddle. He bent down to kiss the top of Immikers golden head, and urged the horse onward. A Grace was a particular skill far surpassing the capability of a normal human being. A Grace could take any form. Most of the kings had at least one Graceling in his kitchens, a superhumanly capable bread baker or winemaker. The luckiest kings had soldiers in their armies Graced with sword fighting. A Graceling might have impossibly good hearing, run as fast as a mountain lion, calculate large sums mentally, even sense if food was poisoned. There were useless Graces, too, like the ability to twist all the way around at the waist or eat rocks without sickening. And there were eerie Graces. Some Gracelings saw events before they happened. Some could enter the minds of others and see things it was not their business to see. The Nanderan king was said to own a Graceling who could tell if a person had ever committed a crime, just by looking into his face. The Gracelings were tools of the kings, and no more. They were not thought to be natural, and people who could avoid them did, in Monsea and in most of the other six kingdoms as well. No one wished the company of a Graceling. Larch had once shared this attitude. Now he saw that it was cruel, unjust, and ignorant, for his son was a normal little boy who happened to be superior in many ways, not just in the way of his Grace, whatever it might turn out to be. It was all the more reason for Larch to remove his son from society. He would not send Immiker to the kings court, to be shunned and teased, and put to whatever use pleased the king. They were not long in the mountains before Larch accepted, bitterly, that it was an impossible hiding place. It wasnt the cold that was the problem, though autumn here was as raw as midwinter had been on the lords estate. It wasnt the terrain either, though the scrub was hard and sharp, and they slept on rock every night, and there was no place even to imagine growing vegetables or grain. It was the predators. Not a week went by that Larch didnt have to defend against some attack. Mountain lions, bears, wolves. The enormous birds, the raptors, with a wingspan twice the height of a man. Some of the creatures were territorial, all of them were vicious, and as winter closed in bleakly around Larch and Immiker, all of them were starving. Their horse was lost one day to a pair of mountain lions. At night, inside the thorny shelter Larch had built of sticks and scrub, he would pull the boy into the warmth of his coat and listen for the howls, the tumbled stones down the slope, the screeches, that meant an animal had scented them. At the first telltale sound he would strap the sleeping boy into the carrier on his chest. He would light as powerful a torch as he had the fuel for, go out of the shelter, and stand there, holding off the attack with fire and sword. Sometimes he stood there for hours. Larch didnt get a lot of sleep. He wasnt eating much either. "Youll make yourself sick if you keep eating so much," Immiker said to Larch over their paltry dinner of stringy wolf meat and water. Larch stopped chewing immediately, for sickness would make it harder to defend the boy. He handed over the majority of his portion. "Thank you for the warning, son." They ate quietly for a while, Immiker devouring Larchs food. "What if we went higher into the mountains and crossed to the other side?" Immiker asked. Larch looked into the boys mismatched eyes. "Is that what you think we should do?" Immiker shrugged his small shoulders. "Could we survive the crossing?" "Do you think we could?" Larch asked, and then shook himself as he heard his own question. The child was three years old and knew nothing of crossing mountains. It was a sign of Larchs fatigue, that he groped so desperately and so often for his sons opinion. "We would not survive," Larch said firmly. "Ive heard of no one who has ever made it across the mountains to the east, either here or in Estill or Nander. I know nothing of the land beyond the seven kingdoms, except for tall tales the eastern people tell about rainbow-colored monsters and underground labyrinths." "Then youll have to bring me back down into the hills, Father, and Details ISBN014241591X Author Kristin Cashore Short Title FIRE Language English ISBN-10 014241591X ISBN-13 9780142415917 Media Book Format Paperback DEWEY FIC Illustrations Yes Year 2011 Edited by November, S. Place of Publication New York, NY Country of Publication United States AU Release Date 2011-01-25 NZ Release Date 2011-01-25 US Release Date 2011-01-25 Publication Date 2011-01-25 UK Release Date 2011-01-25 Pages 512 Audience Age 12 Publisher Penguin Putnam Inc Series Graceling Realm Imprint Penguin USA Audience Teenage / Young adult We've got this At The Nile, if you're looking for it, we've got it. With fast shipping, low prices, friendly service and well over a million items - you're bound to find what you want, at a price you'll love! TheNile_Item_ID:43648054;

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