By C.K. Nolan
A lonely island. An old manuscript. And a lust for power.
Take a wide cooking pot; upload a stunning island, its trusty population, a handful
of roots, a treequill, and a flagon of raging ambition. Stir all of it up, and
what have you ever obtained? The Mazer - a myth secret set at the Island of Southernwood.
Man and tree stay in peace right here - or so it kind of feels. Oh sure, any Southernwooder would
be happy to inform you of the island's timber: grasp Ash, mythical ruler of
Ashenwood; nice Oak by means of Zossimo's outdated greenhouse with the intention to Deep Dock; the
Yew of Yewlith in Westernwood; or nice Aspen, whose trunk bursts out of the roof
of the Albatorium development in Southernwood City.
Now hassle brews on our island. A mysterious message on a leaf haunts Silva, daughter of
Zossimo. a bad treesmoke blows in the course of the woods south of town. And at the
Albatorium, the consultation is plunged into political turmoil as an election is
held for a brand new Legator. And the end result? A surprise for the consultation - yet now not for
Join Silva, Winifred the prepare dinner, Filibert the Treasurer, Harold the bell ringer,
Bassan the Librarian, and lots of different unforgettable characters in an enjoyable
fantasy quest. you are going to by no means examine one other tree in fairly an identical approach again!
Quick preview of The Mazer PDF
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Extra resources for The Mazer
It was once a protracted whereas on account that she’d learn it. fireplace? Water? Rath might puzzle it out. He’d identified the island good from his paintings with Father. Hintermount stone, the wind of Yewlith, water, fire…she closed her eyes, flying with the gulls over the island, wheeling excessive over the Albatorium, swooping right down to see nice Oak leaning over the greenhouse, catching the breeze that took her up, up, from the place she may perhaps see outdated Elm to the north, Ashenwood to the west, the plains of the around Tower close to Spinney Henge— “The plains!
Bought him! See that? who's it? ” “Turn him over,” stated a gruff voice. “Arpad, is it? convinced, that’s him. What did he need to flip traitor like that for? We’ll choose him up and hold him again over the hill to the cart. I count on Bassan may want to see him. ” Whyever had she notion this used to be an exceptional position to conceal? Oh, Arpad! He’d led them clear of the Albatorium, hung a handkerchief by way of the cave, mourned the demise of his niece. What if any of the others were captured, too? Oh, it was once her personal, foolish fault that— “Now, now, grasp Ash, what have you ever been as much as this time?
What if she confirmed them precisely what Isleaf had written? but it appeared his phrases have been just for her, and he hadn’t even permit her preserve the leaf with— “Are you going to come back in? ” got here Filibert’s voice. “I have a few very good jam pudding the following, and it’s bought to be devoured up! you most likely haven’t eaten, and neither have I, yet it’s usually a good suggestion to begin with a few pudding, i locate, and I’ve placed it through the fireplace to hot up a section. ” Filibert’s cellar was once a small, excessive room, and fantastically hot. A unmarried candle burned on a desk that was once suffering from quills, bins of mathematical tools, coloured bottles and a suite of goblets.
No, he wouldn’t, simply because there has been an analogous key mendacity on a wide plaque slightly below that might substitute it admirably. There! Trevello could by no means detect. He used to be some distance too busy brooding about Silva’s crimes, the vote, and his new Legator, wasn’t he? My, this key used to be heavy! “Done it! ” exclaimed Harold, stepping off the ladder. He dragged it again into Filibert’s cellar, then, protecting the main below his jacket, sped into the doorway corridor. An uncomfortable concept crossed his brain. What if he was once improper, and the most important didn’t healthy the lock?
They reached up prior the partitions and into the sky, customary shapes glinting on its darkish floor. She ran in the direction of the tree, achieving out to the touch the chilly, challenging rock, feeling its finely patterned photographs of leaves, buds, twigs, roots, spirals, petals, and flora. Who had outfitted this tree? Who had adorned it with such abandon, such precision? She tested the department in entrance of her. mild, but boldly sweeping strokes of a leaf curled right into a vine that twisted right into a horn-shaped cup, with a long-legged spider on best.