{"product_id":"the-sea-peoples-isbn-9780399583193","title":"The Sea Peoples","description":"\u003cb\u003eS. M. Stirling’s Novels of the Change are a “truly original combination of postapocalyptic sci-fi and military-oriented medieval fantasy”* about a future where mysterious Powers removed advanced technology, and humanity rebuilds society. However, this new world is not always a peaceful one.... \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe spirit of troubadour Prince John, the brother of Crown Princess Órlaith, has fallen captive to the power of the Yellow Raja and his servant, the Pallid Mask. Prince John’s motley band of friends and followers—headed by Captain Pip of Townsville and Deor Godulfson—must lead a quest through realms of shadow and dreams to rescue Prince John from a threat far worse than death. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMeanwhile, across the sea, Japanese Empress Reiko and Órlaith, heir to the High Kingdom of Montival, muster their kingdoms for war, making common cause with the reborn Kingdom of Hawaii. But more than weapons or even the dark magic of the sorcerers of Pyongyang threaten them; Órlaith's lover, Alan Thurston, might be more than he appears.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFrom the tropical waters off Hilo and Pearl Harbor, to the jungles and lost cities of the Ceram Sea, a game will be played where the fate of the world is at stake. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e*Kirkus Reviews\"Richly detailed...His descriptions of beauty and horror, giv[e] this work a broad emotional palette.\"—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePraise for S. M. Stirling and His Novels of the Change\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Nobody wrecks a world better than S. M. Stirling, and nobody does a better job of showing that people remain people, with all their high points and low, in the wreckage.”—Harry Turtledove, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of Fallout\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e“Absorbing.”—\u003ci\u003eThe San Diego Union-Tribune\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e“[A] richly realized story of swordplay and intrigue.”—\u003ci\u003eEntertainment Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e“[A] vivid portrait of a world gone insane...full of bloody action, exposition that expands character, and telling detail that makes it all seem very real.”—\u003ci\u003eStatesman Journal\u003c\/i\u003e (Salem, OR)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Stirling’s skill as a world builder is still as sharp as ever.”—Amazing Stories\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e“Stirling’s series combines the best of [the] fantasy and postapocalyptic genres but rises above them both with his long vision and skill in creating compelling characters.”—Fresh Fiction\u003cb\u003eS. M. Stirling\u003c\/b\u003e is the \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of many science fiction and fantasy novels. A former lawyer and an amateur historian, he lives in the Southwest with his wife, Jan.CHAPTER ONE\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Hilo        \u003cbr\u003eCapital City, Aupuni o Hawaii        \u003cbr\u003e(Kingdom of Hawaii)        \u003cbr\u003eNovember 26th \u003cbr\u003e Change Year 46\/2044 AD\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Crown PrincessÓrlaith Arminger Mackenzie looked south and      shoreward towards the Hawaiian capital of Hilo, shading her eyes      with a hand. The planks beneath her feet were the quarterdeck of      the frigate RMN \u003ci\u003eSea-Leopard\u003c\/i\u003e, pride of the Royal Montivallan Navy      and new-built in the Astoria yards; eighteen hundred tons of      Douglas fir and Garry oak and Sitka spruce, cordage and sailcloth      and copper sheathing and brass and steel salvaged from the dead      cities, at nearly three hundred feet from bowsprit to rudder the      most powerful warship afloat in the Pacific.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It had also been packed to the gunwales with double its normal      complement on the trip across from Montival, nearly seven hundred      souls, since there weren't enough transports to spare the      warships. The \u003ci\u003eSea-Leopard\u003c\/i\u003e wasn't as busy or as crowded now: the      sails on the three towering masts were furled as she lay at      anchor, and all the extra personnel plus the liberty party were      ashore. Most were members of the crowd whose surf-murmur carried      over the thousand yards or so to the docks, apart from the ones      whose main ambition on dry land was to find a bottle and go from      upright and sober to horizontal and unconscious with the least      possible interval in between.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e A\u003ci\u003efter this trip I find that a wee bit attractive\u003c\/i\u003e, Órlaith thought      dryly. \u003ci\u003eSure and it would be the more so if I'd been sleeping in a      hammock in the hold with two inches' space on either side and      someone on a pallet on the deck below and nobody washing much for      that there's not enough fresh water for anything but drinking.      Even the rats are probably swimming for it.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She'd been in a bunk in the Captain's cabin, sharing the space      with the Admiral and six others, and had gotten admiring looks for      not taking the whole for herself. Now everything on board was      squared away and shipshape, down to the neat coils of cable and      hawser, and the pyramids of roundshot and racks of bolt next to      the long rows of massive catapults on the gun-deck below. There      had been a good deal of coming and going by everyone except Órlaith herself; her setting foot on Hawaiian soil was a political      matter, and had to be staged with due ceremony.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Shore leave or no, the \u003ci\u003eSea-Leopard\u003c\/i\u003e could still be ready to sail      and fight in the very short time it took the topmast hands to run      up the ratlines and reach the gaskets on the sails; the catapults      would be cocked and loaded by then and the anchors cast off with      empty casks to float the ends of their cables for later attention.      The Montivallans were among friends . . . but it never hurt to be      ready.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Admiral Naysmith had been standing with her hands clasped behind      her back, hard-featured square face with the little blue burn-mark      of the Bearkiller A-List between her brows impassive above the      white linen tropical-service uniform jacket and gold-braided      epaulettes. Now she nodded at the signal-flag that went up a mast      rigged on the dock ashore and turned to the ship's captain.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"We're ready to proceed, Mr. Edwards,\" she said. \"Make it so. And      a signal to that effect to the Japanese flagship, in the Crown      Princess' name.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Naysmith cocked an eye at Órlaith, who nodded approval. The orders      ran down the chain of command, more and more specific as they did.      Signal-flags of their own went up the halyard to the mizzen-peak. Órlaith politely ignored the exchange, studying the town instead;      she liked and respected the blunt-spoken Bearkiller's      professionalism but they weren't close, and she was careful not to      infringe on her area of authority. As overall commander of the      expeditionÓrlaith was entitled to tell her what she wanted to      accomplish, but how to do it was the Admiral's business.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She \u003ci\u003esuspected\u003c\/i\u003e that the middle-aged Naysmith had doubts about      someone of the same twenty-two years as her own eldest child-who      was a lieutenant somewhere in the fleet-being in charge of a major      expedition, bearer of the royal Sword or no, though of course      she'd never say a word to that effect. Looking at it from the      outside she had something of a point. Órlaith had grown up      watching famously good strategists in action, but she knew she      wasn't equal to either of her parents.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eYet. And they started as young as I am now, overshadowed by their      famous parents . . . two of whom . . .\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Her maternal and paternal grandfathers had been deadly enemies      from the Change on and had ended up killing each other in single      combat with several thousand witnesses in their respective armies      whooping them on.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eAh, well, youth is the one disease age always cures . . . and we      of House Artos are not a long-lived breed, anyway . . . and      besides, it's an interesting view. It's my first time off the      mainland, even if I'm not traveling just for the pleasure of it.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Hilo was a very substantial if not huge city of more than twenty      thousand souls, low-built and spread out amid trees and greenery      and gardens ornamental or practical or both. White walls and roofs      of tile or palm-thatch showed through the greenery and even at      this distance you could see the purple and blue and crimson of      banks of flowers and blossoming trees, citrus and tropical fruits,      jacarandas and flamboyants and flame trees.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Southward loomed the peaks of massive mountains, not steep but      very high; snow glittered from the tops of Mauna Kea and Mauna      Loa. The sight made the hair prickle on the back of her neck, and      she felt a return of that sense . . . a feeling of chambers within      her mind opening . . . that she'd felt when she first took up the      Sword of the Lady after her father's death. Her hand went to the      crystal pommel at her side, the symbol of the High Kingship that      Rudi Mackenzie-not yet Artos the First, High King of Montival-had      won on the Quest of the Sunrise Lands. In form it was a knight's      longsword, save that the guard was shaped like a crescent moon      rather than a cross, and the pommel at the end of the double-lobed      horn-and-silver hilt was moon-colored crystal cradled in a stag's      antlers rather than a metal ball.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Beneath that seeming . . . it could be and do many things, and you      could never entirely disregard the sheer presence of it even when      it was quiescent. She'd often thought that it wasn't really a      thing of matter as most understood such things, but a thought in      the mind of the Goddess made manifest in the world of common day.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Now it let her sense . . .\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eThat's sacredness\u003c\/i\u003e, she thought.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She inclined her head towards the peaks of the volcanoes and made      the Old Faith's gesture of reverence with the back of her hand to      her forehead.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e As she did, images flashed through her mind: a great canoe's prow      grinding ashore on a beach of blinding white sand, its grotesquely      carved figurehead alive somehow; a giant figure roaring in mirth      as he wrestled with a huge eight-eyed bat; a man of stern kingly      majesty raising a carved staff as his black hair blew around a      tattooed face and the sea broke at his feet in a storm of terrible      power; a woman of unbearable beauty whose eyes were the fires at      the core of Earth, walking atop the surface of a river that ran      with molten stone . . .\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But a sacredness that is not mine. Not hostile and not bad, but      Powers fierce and wild and strong and . . . foreign. Stories I      haven't heard, walking the ridge of the world once more. The      Change opened many doors, and the world is very wide.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The warm moist air from the shore fluttered her long hair beneath      its plumed Scots bonnet, locks yellow-gold with a slight hint of      copper. It bore scents from the land, some homely enough from      cooking and people, others spicy and sweet and wild, welcome amid      the usual war-fleet smells of tar and smoke, bilgewater and      imperfectly clean sailors and troops packed in too tightly and      rancid canola-oil smeared on armor and blades against the      corrosive salt of the sea-spray.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e And the overpowering stink of the horse-transports, which was like      a badly-kept stable on a huge scale no matter how many times the      bilges were flooded and the animals were put to work on treadmills      pumping them out. Rank gave her a bubble of space on the warship      to enjoy the contrast.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Some of Hilo's buildings were from before the Change, though none      of the really tall ones you still saw now and then on the      mainland, even in living cities like Boise or Portland. Those had      probably been dismantled for their metal and glass, since without      artificial ventilation and cooling they'd be even less practical      in this climate than at home. More were new, and the great stepped      stone platform in the middle distance was just finished, judging      by the remains of bamboo scaffolding and hoisting cranes still      being taken down. That was a heiau, a temple to the Gods who were      worshipped here once more.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Unlike all of the cities and many of the duns and towns and      steadings she knew at home there was no encompassing defensive      wall to make a sharp distinction between dense-built settlement      and open countryside, despite the obvious technical capacity to      build one. The plots around buildings just got bigger, until you      could say they were small farms and country villas rather than      houses with gardens, and they started to include pastures for      cattle and horses and runs for swine.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eWhich means they haven't had war here lately, probably not since      right after the Change; not great wars with massed armies and      strong siege-trains, at least,\u003c\/i\u003e Órlaith thought. \u003ci\u003eLucky them!\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e There had been little peace in what was Montival-to-be until her      parents and their comrades had brought the High Kingdom's order      with the Sword of the Lady. She had grown up among the veterans      who'd fought the long grim death-grapple of the Prophet's War      across half a continent, starting with her parents, and there had      been the wars against the Association before that in the time of      her great, wicked maternal grandfather. Her generation had lived      in a spreading peace, but the memories remained.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The most familiar single sight was a massive modern fort on the      peninsula to the westward where the maps of the ancient world      showed a golf course, not much different save in details and      decoration from the castles in the northern parts of Montival. An      orca-shaped observation balloon hung high in the air above it,      tethered by a long curve of cable.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eForm follows function,\u003c\/i\u003e she thought. \u003ci\u003eEveryone makes their wheels      round and everyone puts a pointy stabby thing on the end of a      spear.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The towers there flew the bright striped flag of the \u003ci\u003eAupuni Moõo      Hawaii\u003c\/i\u003e, and as a courtesy the green-silver-gold banner of the High      Kingdom of Montival and the \u003ci\u003eHinomaru\u003c\/i\u003e of Japan.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eÓrlaith knew that the kingdoms of Hawaii and Montival had been      friendly as long as they'd been aware of each other's existence.      Since not long before her father Rudi Mackenzie's accession-as      Artos the First-in the year of her birth, in fact. There had been      a king again in Hawaii well before that; since right after the      Change, as folk turned to ancient things as an anchor in a world      gone mad. Their current ruler, Kalakaua II, was his grandson and      only a few years older thanÓrlaith.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But that friendliness had been confined to good wishes, resident      merchants who doubled as ambassadors, growing trade and a little      cooperation against the pirates and raiders who grew right along      with the traffic they preyed on. Just exchanging messages at this      distance was hard and slow, despite a more or less common      language, and the chances of misunderstanding vast.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It was a good sign that the vanguard of the fleet and army of      Montival-frigates, smaller warships, scores of merchantmen turned      troop-transports-had been welcomed within the long curving      breakwater that guarded Hilo's harbor. Many were already tied up      at the wharfs, and boats and barges plied busily back and forth to      the others. And there was other shipping here too, dozens of hulls      and a forest of masts, the Royal Navy of Hawaii and traders from      here and around the world and others down to little fishing boats      and outrigger canoes, all amid the raucous swarm of gulls and      seabirds that marked a rich port.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"I wish we had more troops ashore,\" her liege knight-and      aide-de-camp and Head of Household and childhood friend-Heuradys      d'Ath grumbled beside her.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Heuradys was trying to look everywhere at once without being      obvious about it and preparing to be even more overburdened      ashore, with the mixture of irritation and slightly self-mocking      amusement of a hyper-competent person in a position where they      knew full well no amount of competence could ever be enough. In a      sense it was easier forÓrlaith to ignore the prospect of      assassins popping up with daggers in their teeth-or waiting with      concealed crossbows and poison darts-than it was for those around      her. All she had to fear was death; they had the much stronger      terror of living long enough to know they'd failed in their duty.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eAfter all, the Crone comes for us all, soon or late\u003c\/i\u003e, she thought.      \u003ci\u003eI don't expect to make old bones myself, even if the Powers      haven't warned me about it the way they did Da. Either I'll have      children by then to take up the Sword, or one of the sibs will.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Then she went on aloud: \"We've got thousands of troops ashore,\"      she pointed out cheerfully. \"And glad to be out of the transports      they are. The horses especially, poor things. We'd have lost half      or better if we couldn't stop here to let them pasture and run,      and the survivors would have been useless for weeks on the other      side.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Heuradys snorted. \"To clarify: more troops besides the ones in      their shirtsleeves seeing the sights . . . and chatting up the      better-looking        locals . . . and trying to eat bananas without knowing how to peel      them . . . and sucking rum out of coconuts in the shade of the      palms . . . and frolicking on the beaches.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"The beaches are wonderful here. \u003ci\u003eAnd\u003c\/i\u003e the oceans. The levies      deserve some time off after the voyage. Fair winds and a quick      passage, but it was hard sailing at times. Four hundred cases of      seasickness at the same time . . .\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"Seawater warm enough to swim in! Athana witness, that's just not      right, proper or natural.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"You just want some company for your ironclad misery, Herry,\" the      Crown Princess said with a smile.","brand":"Ace","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46299748434149,"sku":"NP9780399583193","price":9.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780399583193.jpg?v=1767741372","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/the-sea-peoples-isbn-9780399583193","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}