THE WINDSINGERS SERIES
The Complete 4-Book Collection
Harpy’s Flight
The Windsingers
The Limbreth Gate
Luck of the Wheels
Robin Hobb
These novels are entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in them are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
HarperVoyager An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd. 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
Harpy’s Flight © Megan Lindholm 1983 The Windsingers © Megan Lindholm 1984 The Limbreth Gate © Megan Lindholm 1984 Luck of the Wheels © Megan Lindholm 1989
Ebook Bundle Edition © Megan Lindholm
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Megan Lindholm asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
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Source ISBNs:
Harpy's Flight: 9780007112524 The Windsingers: 9780007112531 The Limbreth Gate: 9780007112548 Luck of the Wheels: 9780007112548
Ebook Edition © DECEMBER 2013 ISBN: 9780007555215
Version: 2016–11–21
Contents
Harpy’s Flight
Book One of the Windsingers Series
Robin Hobb
Contents
The woman was an improbable speck on the vertical cliff face. Without skills or tools to aid her, she moved awkwardly up the exposed shale layering. Her close-fitting leather jerkin and coarsely woven trousers were impregnated with gray rock dust. Like an insect, she had taken on the color of the cliff she scaled. Sweat had plastered her brown hair to the top of her skull. Intricate knots and weavings confined the length of her hair, but the wind had picked loose a few strands of it, to spiderweb it across her eyes. She rubbed her narrow face against the gray rock. Her hands were occupied.
Some long-ago cataclysm had riven this mountain, sending its green face sliding down into a heap of stone and earth at its base. Far above the woman the mountain still wore a cap of earth and greenery. But the woman climbed over bare shale. This morning she had stood in the tangled brush and young trees that sprouted from that long-ago landslide. She had peered up the slick black rock to a certain ledge more than three-quarters of the way up the mountain. She had measured herself against the task of reaching that ledge and found that it was hopeless. Then she had begun her climb.
Now her left hand clung to a tiny ledge in the shale. She cautiously took some weight on it. The ledge cracked free, clean as if chiseled, and slid down the mountain face. Ki frantically scrabbled her hand into a