Release Date for CLARIEL, small sneak peek
CLARIEL is my next YA novel, returning to the Old Kingdom. It takes places about six hundred years before the events of SABRIEL, and is the story of a goldsmith's daughter who also happens to be the grand-daughter of The Abhorsen. Caught up against her will in the internal politics of the Kingdom, she finds herself drawn to forbidden magics . . .
The release date of the book has just been set. It is September 2014 and will almost certainly be simultaneous in the USA, Australia/NZ and the UK from my various publishers. Translations will follow more slowly, I expect.
Here are the first couple of paragraphs from the Prologue and Chapter One, respectively. (They may change slightly or even a lot, as I am still revising and responding to the editorial process.)
Old Marral the fisherman lived in one of the oddest parts of Belisaere, the ancient capital of the Old Kingdom. A proud city with high walls to defend against living foes, and rushing aqueducts to keep out the Dead, one tiny corner of the great metropolis lay outside the protection of both wall and water.
Known to all simply as The Islet, it was a rocky island just beyond the city’s south-east sea tower. Joined to the mainland by a rough stone causeway save at the highest tides, the island was inhabited by the poorest of the poor, the fisher-folk who had lost their boats, or drank too much, or had suffered some calamity that kept them from the city’s more prosperous fishing harbour further to the north.
The house was one of the best in Belisaere, high on the eastern slope of Beshill. It boasted five floors, each with a broad balcony facing east, and on top there was a pleasant roof garden. This delivered a view over the lesser houses on the slope below, and past them across the red roofs of the buildings that clustered closely on the valley floor on either side of the Winter Road. Beyond the houses was the seven-tiered Great Eastern Aqueduct and its lesser companion, the city wall, its feet almost in the water. Beyond it lay the glittering expanse of the Sea of Saere, now dotted with those slower, straggling fishing boats that were coming late to Fish Harbor, hours after the rest of the fleet had returned to unload their catch with the dawn.
Clariel stood at the intricately carved marble railing on the edge of the roof garden, with the sun on her face and the cool sea breeze ruffling her shorn-at-the-neck jet-black hair, and wondered why she couldn’t like the view, the house, or indeed, the whole city of Belisaere.