By Marion Zimmer Bradley
The 1st in a chain of omnibus volumes of Marion Zimmer Bradley's best-selling Darkover sequence, Heritage and Exile contains the 2 strongest and critical novels during this groundbreaking saga.
Nominated for a Hugo Award, and defined as "Bradley's top [Darkover] novel" by way of Locus, The historical past of Hastur tells the advanced and compelling story of the formative years of Regis Hastur, Darkover's maximum monarch. It additionally spins the terrifying and heartbreaking tale of these who sought to regulate the lethal Sharra Matrix, and of the way Lew Alton met and misplaced his maximum love, Marjorie Scott.
the main risky magical enforce on all of Darkover was once the notorious, mythical Sharra Matrix. The Sharra Matrix have been exiled offworld within the protecting custody of Comyn Lord Lew Alton. but if Lew used to be known as again to Darkover to contest his rights, he had no selection yet to deliver this harmful matrix again with him. as soon as the Sharra Matrix was once again, her flaming photograph unfold in all places, surroundings in movement occasions which might swap the lands, the seven domain names, and the way forward for Darkover eternally.
"Literate and exciting." (The long island instances booklet Review)
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Extra resources for Heritage and Exile (Darkover Omnibus, Book 1)
I followed older friends over ruins which became defensives, Nevada hills, the Sheriﬀ of Nottingham’s castle. We climbed through the piled snow-topped rubble ﬁlled doorways, found staircases still intact, mounted them with practised balance as they swayed beneath our feet, reaching the second storey where whole rooms remained, sliced as if with a knife, everything in perfect condition—bathrooms, bedrooms, store-rooms— and if we were lucky we found unlooted booty, including toys, saucepans, kettles and books.
He hadn’t been able to spend Christmas with us, so we went to lunch with him and and my Aunt Ivy, a rather pious Christian who didn’t believe in too much pleasure. Uncle Jack had been on duty. He worked for Churchill. ’ beamed the old warrior-drunk, puﬃng avuncularly on his vast cigar and smelling strongly of tobacco and brandy. I think he would have oﬀered me a glass of brandy if my mother hadn’t been with me. He did, however, give me the beneﬁt of his wisdom that afternoon. ‘Never be tempted to vote Liberal,’ he said.
I don’t remember too many dogﬁghts around Christmas, however. I somehow had the impression that the Nazis and the Allies broke for Christmas, much as we did for school. But I had seen some of the ﬁercest airﬁghting. For years I thought that watching the Battle of Britain through the windows of our house as the Spitﬁres and Messerschmitts wheeled and ﬂared in a darkness speared by shafts of yellow light, had been nothing but a false memory, something inspired by watching movies. I put this to my mother a few years ago.