Winter Moon: Moontide; The Heart of the Moon; Banshee Cries
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Overview
' Moontide ' by Mercedes Lackey: A woman who has been fostered out most of her life in a poorly ' run, poorly supervised gigantic household, is summoned home. Her father turns out to be a wrecker ' baron who makes his fortune by deliberately wrecking ships on the coast and sending his men to salvage what comes ashore. He ' s sent for her to cement an alliance; she, however, rather than learning proper womanly submission, has been training with the boy ' squires ' and tells him she is not going to marry anyone. In a fit of rage, he says that she will, and if she won ' t have the man he ' s chosen for her, she ' ll marry his Fool. Fine, says she, and there and then is married to the Fool, who is wise enough to play the Fool very well, and is, in fact, a magician who has infiltrated the household on the orders of the King in order to stop this wrecking business from going on. Suddenly he ' s married to the Baron ' s daughter ' suddenly she ' s married to this bizarre little man. She wants escape from this madhouse ' he has to convince her to help him. ' The Heart of the Moon ' by Tanith Lee: Struggling under the curse of a dead comrade, Clirando, a warrior priestess unready to face the powers trapped within her, must face ' The Heart of the Moon ' to reveal what has been hidden. ' Banshee Cries ' by C.E. Murphy: The story tells of Jo ' s mother and a manifestation of the Big Bad that ' s hiding in the astral plane waiting for Jo, and ritual murders that take place on the full moons of winter in a year that the first full moon of winter hits on the solstice (which is when Jo ' s mom died) and the final full moon is on the spring equinox. Jo ' s mother faced down this Big Bad years ago when she was pregnant with Jo, but wasn ' t able to vanquish it entirely because she ' d have lost the baby and now it ' s back to go after Jo. Her mom knew Jo wasn ' t going to be prepared for it and pulled a kind of Obi ' Wan Kenobi (if you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can imagine!) by willing herself to death, and is setting up a kind of astral projection for Jo.
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Author Information
Bio of Mercedes Lackey
Mercedes was born in Chicago on June 24, 1950. The very next day the Korean War was declared. It is hoped that there is no connection between the two events. She was raised mostly in the northwestern corner of Indiana, attending grade school and high school in Highland, Indiana. She graduated from Purdue University in 1972 with a Bachelors of Science in biology. This, she soon learned, along with a paper hat and a name tag will qualify you to ask "would you like fries with that?" at a variety of fast-food locations. After spending time in jobs ranging from artist's model to lab technician at the Mosquito Genetics Project to short-order cook, she took training and became a computer programmer. About this time she discovered science fiction conventions and the Society for Creative Anachronism, and began attending functions of both, more often in costume than not. Mercedes had always written from her early teens, and developed this hobby by writing fan fiction for various amateur magazines. In the 1980s she took a job programming computers for a major airline, and as a consequence moved to Oklahoma, where she continued to write. At this time she met both Marion Zimmer Bradley (author of The Mists of Avalon) and .C. J. Cherryh, both of whom helped mentor her from the ranks of the amateur into those of the professional writers.
Bio of C. E. Murphy
Though C.E. (Catie) Murphy lives in Alaska, she has never watched a single episode of Northern Exposure or helped a film crew simulate terrorist attacks on the Trans-Alaska Pipeline. She has, though, been forced to convince people that she neither lives in an igloo, rides a polar bear, nor has a penguin for a pet. She's married to a chef, has two small cats, and a large dog who is afraid of everything. According to one source, Catie began her writing career when she ran away from home at age five to write copy for the circus that'd come to town. You would think she'd remember this, but her own earliest memory regarding writing is from age six, when she submitted three poems to a school publication. The teacher producing the magazine selected (inevitably) the one she thought was by far the worst, but also told her a six-year-old kid to keep writing. It's likely she would have, anyway, but she took the advice to heart. And a good thing, too: far more people after that (some of them famous authors!) told her to do anything other than write, if she possibly could. It turns out she couldn't. Her hobbies include swimming, walking, traveling, drawing and moose wrestling.
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Additional Info
Imprint
Harlequin Enterprises
Filesize
1014.80 KB
Number of Pages
400
eBook ISBN
155254379X
Excerpt from: Winter Moon by Mercedes Lackey
Landscape
Across night and water, in darkness: the island. There was no moon tonight. Tomorrow was the moon's First Night.
"Clirando, do you see?"
"I see. The beacons are burning."
High up, the coastal cliffs were gemmed with them, drops of brilliant fire, each one separated from the next by many miles.
They were like eyes, watching, as the boat came in. Nothing else was to be seen, but the luminous rollers of the surf on the shore.
The galley had put them off as soon as the sun set in the Middle Sea. The Isle was visible, a black dot far away. The captain told Clirando the water there was too shallow for his ship, but also no man or woman, unless called or ordered to the Isle, might go in any nearer.
Strong, and aching for action after the slow voyage, the band was quite eager to take up oars and row.
Gradually the sea dulled to a leaden blue and the sky faded like an autumn rose. Great darkness came, scattered with stars. The galley had drawn away.
Briefly the younger girls chattered, excited or unnerved. Then they fell silent as the rest.
The hump of the island grew from the night, always still blacker, and then the beacons burned out above.
Clirando had been given by the captain a rudimentary map, which showed a way in. They found the entry soon enough. A narrow defile sliced between and below the steep surfaces of the cliffs.
They followed the sea channel and soon the beacons were left behind them. Only starlight then shone like steel on the water.
For perhaps a further quarter of an hour they rowed under the cliff stacks, until the channel opened again into an inner bay.
They drew the boat up across pale shingle.
A statue of an unknown goddess stood there, guarding the beach, her eyes glittering grey zircons.
"Who is she?" whispered Draisis.
Seleti said, "Maut, I think."
"A goddess of the East?" asked Tuyamel. "Do you think it's Maut, Cliro?"
Clirando bowed to the goddess. "Maybe. But whoever she is, this is her place. We'll offer some wine when we uncork the skin."










