By David Dalglish

From USA Today bestselling writer David Dalglish
One has conquered a urban. the opposite covets a whole nation.
In publication #3 of the Shadowdance sequence, Haern is the King's Watcher, protector opposed to thieves and nobles who might fill the evening with blood. but hundreds and hundreds of miles away, an murderer often called the Wraith has all started slaughtering these in strength, leaving the emblem of the Watcher in mockery. while Haern travels south to confront this copycat, he unearths a urban governed by means of the corrupt, the grasping and the damaging. Rioters fill the streets, and the specter of conflict hangs over every thing. To forge peace, Haern needs to confront the lethal Wraith, a killer who might form the kingdom's destiny with the blade of his sword.
Man or God; what occurs while the strains are blurred?
Fantasy writer David Dalglish spins a story of retribution and darkness, and an underworld attaining for final strength within the 3rd novel of the Shadowdance sequence, formerly published as A Dance of Death.

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Extra resources for A Dance of Mirrors (Shadowdance, Book 3)

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He said I should work on my syntax. Only it turned out to be the Sin Tax. I'm confined to this desk for this boring job. But I must say it concentrates the imagination beautifully. " "So you're getting to be a writer after all," Gloha said. " "Yes. I think I'll have a chapter about a crossbreed winged goblin girl and her friendship for a crossbreed winged animal. " "I hope so. " It was evident that SB's affability did not extend to neglecting her duty. Gloha didn't argue. She was satisfied to share the Glyph's fate, if she couldn't improve the animal's lot.

In addition, it was cold; her tight little tootsies were freezing. She would have to take shelter until the storm blew over. Maybe she could find a blanket bush and hide under the blankets, and the snow would cover her so that Fracto wouldn't know where she was, and would drift away. At least she would be warm while she waited. But she saw no blanket bushes, and no pillow bushes. This glade was singularly bereft of useful plants. There was only a big snowball at the edge of the glade. She certainly didn't need that!

The flunky? She didn't see how; the metal would still be too hard to abolish. The same went for the monkey, and how that murky water could help was beyond her. Water made iron rust, which would be worse than ever, because it would make the locks impossible to work. Something began to percolate through her meticulous little mind. These things here - there was something similar about them. They were all keys! Donkey, monkeys-even the murky water. And a key should do for a lock, to unlock it. One of these keys must unlock Yena's locks.

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