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In the Dancer's Shade: Naupaka, #3

Name: In the Dancer's Shade: Naupaka, #3
Brand: Mira Kanehl
Price: 9.99 USD
Availability: InStock
ISBN: 9783947722044

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Editor:: Mira Kanehl
Lansat:: Feb 21, 2019
ISBN:: 9783947722044
Format:: Carte

Descriere

How far would you go to save a loved one?

Honolulu, 1827

Delmar, the French surgeon, fears his sweetheart Mayme is taken captive for a ritual and follows the tracks of the Hawaiian indigenous people far into the mountains. Coming to realize the complexity of their tribe, his painful preying turns into a nightmare. The mind-bending experience makes him fear he may lose his sense of reality altogether. But there's no going back now. Who is to blame, and will he save his girlfriend?

In the Dancer's Shade is the third book in the historical fiction and magical realism series Naupaka that features an array of intercultural and compelling characters—from the surgeon protagonist to women pirates and Hawaiian magicians—that meet in a sizzling, historical context. If you like exotic locales, cringe-worthy explorations of early 19th-century medicine, and engaging, subtle fantasy, then you'll love Mira Kanehl's page-turning new series.

Unlock In the Dancer's Shade now to read Delmar's latest adventure today!

"Adventure, magic, and intrigue. In the Dancer's Shade is one hell of a mystical thrill-ride."

— Joe Walters, Independent Book Review

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In the Dancer's Shade: Naupaka, #3

Până la Mira Kanehl

Lungime: 124 pagini1 oră

Descriere

How far would you go to save a loved one?

Honolulu, 1827

Unlock In the Dancer's Shade now to read Delmar's latest adventure today!

"Adventure, magic, and intrigue. In the Dancer's Shade is one hell of a mystical thrill-ride."

— Joe Walters, Independent Book Review

Citiți mai multe

Editor:: Mira Kanehl
Lansat:: Feb 21, 2019
ISBN:: 9783947722044
Format:: Carte

Despre autor

Mira Kanehl

Mira was born in Munich and raised in an international city in South India. For most of her career life, she worked as a project manager and translator. At university her focus was on literature and intercultural communication with the intent of becoming an author. Though it was her dream from age three, it stayed just that until she took the leap in 2018 when she published her first book. Her writing explores intercultural psychology and the sometimes harsh realities of history in emotionally gripping stories.

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In the Dancer's Shade - Mira Kanehl

Chronology

Price of Freedom

France, outskirts of Bordeaux, 1825

From the day he was born, Delmar Lécuyer was misunderstood. His curious mind led him to places he wasn’t supposed to be, witnessing what he wasn’t supposed to see. He buried such events deep in his subconscious, but, like the freedom fighters of the French Revolution, these memories didn’t accept their sansculotte station and rose against him in surges of emotional agony. To protect himself, he plunged deeper into academics and maintained a clinical distance from his feelings as best he could. And so, after having studied surgery and finding nothing more to learn in the dusty libraries of Bordeaux, Delmar tried to fill the emptiness in his heart by fighting for free education. That was his cause, more or less.

A horse’s neigh tore him from his writing.

"Incroyable!" Victor shook his black curls and stomped on the hay, lowering his hand gripping the notice. Tightened were his long, thin limbs and dark was his stare.

Jèrriais, the blond stout man standing before him—still panting from the ride to the barn—pinched his fleshy lips together. Succeeded as I foretold.

If we had made more copies, or distributed them better … Victor drew up the paper again and continued reading. The sun was setting, and for lack of light he held the writing close to his eyes.

If, if, if … Jèrriais said, strolling to the gelding, then untied him from the mast and led him to the rear of the barn. The massive wooden shelter accommodated horse stables and a poultry coop above it, large heaps of hay and wheat and most of the farming tools. The beast snorted from exhaustion and its coat shone with sweat, leaving a bright and musky odor in the breeze drifting in from the open barn door.

Delmar looked back down at the scripts he was replicating to a book, and only then did he notice the tension in his neck. Bookworm that he was, Delmar had spent the last month copying illegal papers so they could circulate the duplicates. Knowledge, he told himself, was every man’s right, and so he didn’t care for the king’s love affair with the Church, nor that he was considered ‘plus royaliste que le roi’—more royalist than the king—when his brother had still been on the throne. Not having joined Victor’s underground activity by choice but for having been in the wrong place at the wrong time—and amidst the aftershocks of the Revolution the risk of landing under the guillotine was very real—it was his contribution to improving his beloved France.

Delmar straightened and stretched his back. The movement stirred the surrounding hay, and somewhere behind him a small animal echoed the rustle, escaping. He put the quill down and rose, brushing the bristles from his sticky palms.

Victor handed him the paper. See for yourself, the Church won again. While walking past a wagon, Victor kicked its wheel. "Say adieu to liberation, to tolerance, to philosophy—oh!"

Delmar frowned at the dramatic parade, then scanned the notice. A loud clunk! had them both shift to the stables where Jèrriais was pinning up the reins, saddle, and the wet saddle cloth. Then the blond man swung to face Delmar and Victor.

Oh, you coxcomb king, Victor. Here, I’ve brought you fresh rolls from the market. They’re still warm. While bearing up the opened bundle he strode over to Victor, who eyed its contents with curiosity. Let’s see your condition after this.

Jèrriais chuckled as Victor grabbed a roll, bit into it and closed his eyelids. Delmar took one, too. The crunchy crust crumbled and the creamy interior melted on his tongue with herbal and sour notes in butter. Delmar and Victor had merely shared an apple all day, which greatly enhanced the delicious taste of the roll.

Victor seized the man’s face with both palms, smacked him on the lips, danced a waltz and let himself fall backward with spread arms and legs onto the chaff.

Delmar lifted one brow at Jèrriais. I instructed you to quit calling him that, see what you encourage in him!

Victor sprawled in the fodder, breathing heavy while he seemed to appreciate the last aromas of his beloved roll, and Jèrriais’ cheeks turned pink. Ah! But consider how thrilled he is.

A loud whooshing sound had Delmar glance up where a bat flew from the ceiling and out the open door, a buzz that had the hens cackle from their high cage as if distrustful of their distant cousins’ privilege.

Jèrriais faced Delmar. "How are those Naigeon papers coming along, camarade?"

"En fait, I’m halfway through copying D’Alembert’s Dream. I assume the manuscript is not in proper order, I suppose it got jumbled up when we fled. It’s quite a labor, but I should finish by the end of the week."

Jèrriais grinned. "Donc? What did you think?"

Delmar’s mouth dried with the words that demanded to splutter out of him. "Ah! Excellent, I mean, incroyable."

The blond curls wiggled along with Jèrriais’ nods while the gelding in the stables beyond him thumped its hooves into the spongy earth and hay. "Oui. Doesn’t it strike you irregular how he separates morality from pleasure?"

Delmar’s mouth hung open, then he drew a breath. I hadn’t considered that. The text has so many layers. Tell me, what is your judgment on his theory the entire universe is one organism—that we’re all linked?

The rustling of Victor’s abrupt movement in the hay, which had served as his royal bed in his comedy, caught Delmar’s attention.

Victor squirmed sideways, covering his clothes and hair with the straws that had nested him, and stood up in a swift motion. Raised brows and pouted lips, his hand dangled as if held by a servant. The coxcomb king would like to discuss the proposals concerning the gold from Saint Domingue. He puffed away a defiant bristle of wheat that stuck to his lower lip and which had moved along while he spoke, eyes locked on Delmar and Jèrriais with an alert gaze.

The two dissolved into laughter, which the chickens in the coop reciprocated in cackling like spiteful nobles attending the parody from their appointed seats.

Jèrriais’ grin faded into a serious expression. Victor, we should discuss that with everyone. Then Jèrriais’ pink nose turned to Delmar. In the meantime, let’s examine Diderot’s manuscript.

Ough! Victor stepped forward and plucked the paper from Delmar’s hand. Give me that, he said, and strode off with it.

Delmar understood Victor’s frustration, but as there was nothing he could do about it, he left him to it. Victor, now followed by a significant number of rebels who likewise still believed in the goals of the French Revolution, had been shadowing the proceedings of the proposed French Law of Sacrilege with growing indignation.

News on the ‘grande comédie’, as Francois Guizot rightly put it, indeed had the young men weep more than laugh. King Louis XVIII had avoided his kingly responsibility in establishing a modern legislation, saying that equity could be found only in his decisions. And while he made sound ones amidst the passions of the Restauration, they were also in favor of the clergy. But then came King Charles X, who had no soundness and tipped the scales of justice even further, if there had been any balance before. And, with the Law of Sacrilege, the Church had France once again in its long, bony fingers.

Delmar sighed and sat beside his papers. It was dark now, so he fumbled for his splits and the flask of acid to light a candle. The sharp sulphuric stink stung in his nose before it dispersed in the air, and he lit two candles, bringing one to Victor.

"Merci." Taking the candle, Victor continued reviewing the letter, and Delmar returned to Jèrriais, who was inspecting the Naigeon papers.

What a clever idea, to transcribe it into a book.

Mh. Delmar slumped down beside his friend, at which the flame shivered. "Alors, would you elaborate on your theory of morality? I’m not confident I understood."

Jèrriais flushed. "Oui. Do you recall the sequel to the conversation?"

"Ah … Delmar nodded, feeling the heat of a blush himself now. Consisting of a lengthy discussion on sexuality, Delmar wasn’t planning to include it in his copy. Oui."

As Jèrriais leaned forward, the horse beyond him snorted and played with the water in the bucket. "Mais there you have it. There is nothing indecent about pleasure if it harms no one."

The timber of the walls creaked with a sudden whisk which hissed between the planks. Delmar looked into the dark, and unseeing, only sniffed a heavy

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In the Dancer's Shade: Naupaka, #3

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In the Dancer's Shade: Naupaka, #3

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Legat de In the Dancer's Shade

Titluri în această serie (4)

Her Majesty's Quill: Naupaka, #1

String of Treason: Naupaka, #2

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