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Ship of Destiny (The Liveship Traders, Book 3) [Format Kindle]

Robin Hobb
4.4 étoiles sur 5  Voir tous les commentaires (16 commentaires client)

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Descriptions du produit


Robin Hobb concludes her nautical fantasy epic with Ship of Destiny, set in the world of her Farseer series. It lives up to its predecessors, Ship of Magic and Mad Ship in every way: the characters continue to develop, the plot moves swiftly, and the setting is vividly realized.

Again, three generations of Vestrit women are at the heart of the story. Ronica, the matriarch, stands alone against accusations that her family is responsible for the chaos that has overtaken Bingtown. She fights to uncover treachery and maintain the Trader's Council. Her daughter, Althea, sails on the disturbed liveship Paragon, hunting for Vivacia, the Vestrit's liveship, now the flagship of a pirate fleet under Kennit, who is both ruthless and compassionate. Her granddaughter, Malta, has disappeared following an earthquake in the ancient treasure city by the Rain Wild River. Her fiancé, Reyn, and her brother, Selden, are trapped while seeking her. They are rescued by the dragon Tintaglia, whom they helped liberate. Reyn asks Tintaglia's aid in finding Malta, but Tintaglia has her own urgent mission to accomplish, one which will change everything. Hobb weaves these plot threads into an exciting and satisfying conclusion. This is an original trilogy well worth reading! --Nona Vero


Chapter One
The Rain Wilds

Malta dug her makeshift paddle into the gleaming water and pushed hard. The little boat edged forward through the water. Swiftly she transferred the cedar plank to the other side of the craft, frowning at the beads of water that dripped from it into the boat when she did so. It couldn’t be helped. The plank was all she had for an oar, and rowing on one side of the boat would only spin them in circles. She refused to imagine that the acid drops were even now eating into the planking underfoot. Surely, a tiny bit of Rain Wild River water could not do much damage. She trusted that the powdery white metal on the outside of the boat would keep the river from devouring it, but there was no guarantee of that, either. She pushed the thought from her mind. They had not far to go.

She ached in every limb. She had worked the night through, trying to make their way back to Trehaug. Her exhausted muscles trembled with every effort she demanded of them. Not far to go, she told herself yet again. Their progress had been agonizingly slow. Her head ached abominably but worst was the itching of the healing injury on her forehead. Why must it always itch the worst when she could not spare a hand to scratch?

She maneuvered the tiny rowboat among the immense trunks and spidering roots of the trees that banked the Rain Wild River. Here, beneath the canopy of rain forest, the night sky and its stars were a myth rarely glimpsed; yet a fitful twinkling beckoned her in between the trunks and branches. The lights of the tree-borne city of Trehaug guided her to warmth, safety, and most of all, rest. Shadows were still thick all around her, yet the calls of birds in the high treetops told her that in the east, dawn was lightening the sky. Sunlight would not pierce the thick canopy until later, and when it came, it would be as shafts of light amidst a watery green mockery of sunshine. Where the river sliced a path through the thick trees, day would glitter silver on the milky water of the wide channel.

The nose of the rowboat snagged suddenly on top of a hidden root. Again. Malta bit her tongue to keep from screaming her frustration. Making her way through the forested shallows was like threading the craft through a sunken maze. Time and time again, drifts of debris or concealed roots had turned her aside from her intended path. The fading lights ahead seemed little closer than when they had set out. Malta shifted her weight and leaned over the side to probe the offending obstacle with her plank. With a grunt, she pushed the boat free. She dipped her paddle again and the boat moved around the hidden barrier.

“Why don’t you paddle us over there, where the trees are thinner?” demanded the Satrap. The erstwhile ruler of all Jamaillia sat in the stern, his knees drawn nearly to his chin, while his Companion Kekki huddled fearfully in the bow. Malta didn’t turn her head. She spoke in a cold voice. “When you’re willing to pick up a plank and help with the paddling or steering, you can have a say in where we go. Until then, shut up.” She was sick of the boy-Satrap’s imperious posturing and total uselessness for any practical task.

“Any fool can see that there are fewer obstacles there. We could go much faster.”

“Oh, much faster,” Malta agreed sarcastically. “Especially if the current catches us and sweeps us out into the main part of the river.”

The Satrap took an exasperated breath. “As we are upriver of the city, it seems to me that the current is with us. We could take advantage of it and let it carry us where I want to go, and arrive much more swiftly.”

“We could also lose control of the boat completely, and shoot right past the city.”

“Is it much farther?” Kekki whined pathetically.

“You can see as well as I can,” Malta retorted. A drop of the river water fell on her knee as she shifted the paddle to the other side. It tickled, then itched and stung. She took a moment to dab at it with the ragged hem of her robe. The fabric left grit in its wake. It was filthy from her long struggle through the halls and corridors of the buried Elderling city the previous night. So much had happened since then, it seemed more like a thousand nights. When she tried to recall it, the events jumbled in her mind. She had gone into the tunnels to confront the dragon, to make her leave Reyn in peace. But there had been the earthquake, and then when she had found the dragon ... The threads of her recall snarled hopelessly at that point. The cocooned dragon had opened Malta’s mind to all the memories stored in that chamber of the city. She had been inundated with the lives of those who had dwelt there, drowned in their recollections. From that point until the time when she had led the Satrap and his Companion out of the buried labyrinth, all was misty and dreamlike. Only now was she piecing together that the Rain Wild Traders had hid the Satrap and Kekki away for their own protection.

Or had they? Her gaze flicked briefly to Kekki cowering in the bow. Had they been protected guests, or hostages? Perhaps a little of both. She found that her own sympathies were entirely with the Rain Wilders. The sooner she returned Satrap Cosgo and Kekki to their custody, the better. They were valuable commodities, to be employed against the Jamaillian nobles, the New Traders and the Chalcedeans. When she had first met the Satrap at the ball, she had been briefly dazzled by the illusion of his power. Now she knew his elegant garb and aristocratic manners were only a veneer over a useless, venal boy. The sooner she was rid of him, the better.

She focused her eyes on the lights ahead. When she had led the Satrap and his Companion out of the buried Elderling city, they had found themselves far from where Malta had originally entered the underground ruins. A large stretch of quagmire and marshy river shallows separated them from the city. Malta had waited for dark and the guiding lights of the city before they set out in their ancient salvaged boat. Now dawn threatened and she still poled toward the beckoning lanterns of Trehaug. She fervently hoped that her ill-conceived adventure was close to an end.

The city of Trehaug was located amongst the branches of the huge-bold trees. Smaller chambers dangled and swung in the uppermost branches, while the grander family halls spanned trunk to trunk. Great staircases wound up the trunks, and their landings provided space for merchants, minstrels and beggars. The earth beneath the city was doubly cursed with marshiness and the instability of this quake-prone region. The few completely dry pieces of land were mostly small islands around the bases of trees.

Steering her little boat amongst the towering trees toward the city was like maneuvering around the immense columns in a forgotten god’s temple. The boat again fetched up against something and lodged. Water lapped against it. It did not feel like a root. “What are we snagged against?” Malta asked, peering forward.

Kekki did not even turn to look, but remained hunched over her folded knees. She seemed afraid to put her feet on the boat’s floorboards. Malta sighed. She was beginning to think something was wrong with the Companion’s mind. Either the experiences of the past day had turned her senses or, Malta reflected wryly, she had always been stupid and it took only adversity to manifest it. Malta set her plank down and, crouching low, moved forward in the boat. The rocking this created caused both the Satrap and Kekki to cry out in alarm. She ignored them. At close range, she was able to see that the boat had nosed into a dense mat of twigs, branches and other river debris, but in the gloom, it was hard to see the extent of it. She supposed some trick of the current had carried it here and packed it into this floating morass. It was too thick to force the small boat through it. “We’ll have to go around it,” she announced to the others. She bit her lip. That meant venturing closer to the main flow of the river. Well, as the Satrap had said, any current they encountered would carry them downriver to Trehaug, not away from it. It might even make her thankless task easier. She pushed aside her fears. Awkwardly she turned their rowboat away from the raft of debris and toward the main channel.

“This is intolerable!” Satrap Cosgo suddenly exclaimed. “I am dirty, bitten by insects, hungry and thirsty. And it is all the fault of these miserable Rain Wild settlers. They pretended that they brought me here to protect me. But since they have had me in their power, I have suffered nothing but abuse. They have affronted my dignity, compromised my health, and endangered my very life. No doubt they intend to break me, but I shall not give way to their mistreatment of me. The full weight of my wrath will descend upon these Rain Wild Traders. Who, it occurs to me, have settled here with no official recognition of their status at all! They have no legal claims to the treasures they have been digging up and selling. They are no better than the pirates that infest the Inside Passage and should be dealt with accordingly.”

Malta found breath to snort derisively. “You are scarcely in a position to bark at anyone. In reality, you are relying on their goodwill far more than they are relying on yours. How easy it would be for them to sell you off to the highest bidder, regardless of whether the buyer would assassinate you, hold you hostage or restore you to your throne! As for their claim to these lands, that came directly from the hand of Satrap Esclepius, your ancestor. The original charter for the Bingtown Traders specified only how many leffers of land each settler could claim, not where. The Rain Wild Traders staked their claims here; the Bingtown Traders took theirs by Bingtown Bay. Their claims are both ancient and honorable, and well documented under Jamaillian law. Unlike those of the New Traders you have foisted off on us.”

For a moment, shocked silence greeted her words. Then the Satrap forced a brittle laugh. “How amusing to hear you defend them! Such a benighted little bumpkin you are. Look at yourself, dressed in rags and covered with filth, your face forever disfigured by these renegades! Yet you defend them. Why? Ah, let me guess. It is because you know that no whole man would ever want you now. Your only hope is to marry into a family in which your kin are as misshapen as yourself, where you can hide behind a veil and no one will stare at your frightfulness. Pathetic! But for the actions of these rebels, I might have chosen you as a Companion. Davad Restart had spoken out on your behalf, and I found your clumsy attempts at dancing and conversation endearingly provincial. But now? Faugh!” The boat rocked minutely with the disdainful flip of his hand. “There is nothing more freakish than a beautiful woman whose face has been spoiled. The finer families of Jamaillia would not even take you as a household slave. Such disharmony has no place in an aristocratic household.”

Malta refused to look back at him, but she could imagine how his lips curled with contempt. She tried to be angry at his arrogance; she told herself he was an ignorant prig of a boy. But she had not seen her own face since the night she had nearly been killed in the overturning coach. When she had been convalescing in Trehaug, they had not permitted her a mirror. Her mother and even Reyn had seemed to dismiss the injuries to her face. But they would, her traitor heart told her. They would have to, her mother because she was her mother, and Reyn because he felt responsible for the coach accident. How bad was the scar? The cut down her forehead had felt long and jagged to her questing fingers. Now she wondered: did it pucker, did it pull her face to one side? She gripped the plank tightly in both her hands as she dug into the water with it. She would not set it down; she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her fingers grope over her scar. She set her teeth grimly and paddled on.

A dozen more strokes and suddenly the little vessel picked up speed. It gave a small sideways lurch in the water, and then spun once as Malta dug her plank into the water in a desperate effort to steer back into the shallows. She shipped her makeshift oar, and seized the extra plank from the bottom of the rowboat. “You’ll have to steer while I paddle,” she told the Satrap breathlessly. “Otherwise we’ll be swept out into the middle of the river.”

He looked at the plank she thrust toward him. “Steer?” he asked her, taking the board reluctantly.

Malta tried to keep her voice calm. “Stick that plank into the water behind us. Hold onto one end of it and use it as a drag to turn us back toward the shallows while I paddle in that direction.”

The Satrap held the board in his fine-boned hands as if he had never seen a piece of wood before. Malta seized her own plank, thrust it back into the water, and was amazed at the sudden strength of the current. She clutched the end awkwardly as she tried to oppose the flow of water that was sweeping them away from the shore. Morning light touched them as they emerged from the shelter of the overhanging trees. Suddenly the sunlight illuminated the water, making it unbearably bright after the dimness. Behind her, an annoyed exclamation coincided with a splash. She swiveled her head to see what had happened. The Satrap was empty-handed.

“The river snatched it right out of my hands!” he complained.

“You fool!” Malta cried out. “How can we steer now?”

The Satrap’s face darkened with fury. “How dare you speak to me so! You are the fool, to think it could have done us any good in the first place. It wasn’t even shaped like an oar. Besides, even if it would have worked, we do not need it. Use your eyes, wench. We’ve nothing to fear. There’s the city now! The river will carry us right to it.”

Détails sur le produit

  • Format : Format Kindle
  • Taille du fichier : 2910 KB
  • Nombre de pages de l'édition imprimée : 915 pages
  • Editeur : Harper Voyager; Édition : New Ed (1 septembre 2011)
  • Vendu par : Amazon Media EU S.à r.l.
  • Langue : Anglais
  • ASIN: B005JE1K0Q
  • Synthèse vocale : Activée
  • X-Ray :
  • Word Wise: Activé
  • Composition améliorée: Activé
  • Moyenne des commentaires client : 4.4 étoiles sur 5  Voir tous les commentaires (16 commentaires client)
  • Classement des meilleures ventes d'Amazon: n°68.554 dans la Boutique Kindle (Voir le Top 100 dans la Boutique Kindle)

En savoir plus sur l'auteur

Megan Lindholm alias Robin Hobb est née en 1952.
Dans la tradition des grands romanciers de l'aventure tel J.R.R. Tolkien, elle est considérée comme l'un des maîtres du genre dans les pays anglo-saxons. Au milieu des années 90, elle publie les premiers tomes d'un nouveau cycle sous le nom de plume de Robin Hobb. Les trois volumes de cette saga, La Citadelle des Ombres (L'Assassin royal), la propulse au sommet des ventes. Elle a également publié chez Pygmalion L'Arche des Ombres (Les Aventuriers de la mer) et le Soldat Chamane. Elle figure désormais régulièrement sur les listes des best-sellers en France, aux États-Unis, en Angleterre et en Allemagne.
Dragons et serpents est le premier tome de sa nouvelle série, Les Cités des Anciens.

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Commentaires en ligne

4.4 étoiles sur 5
4.4 étoiles sur 5
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5 internautes sur 5 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Le point d'orgue de cette trilogie 10 décembre 2003
Par Un client
Dernier tome de cette trilogie, aboutissement des aventures croisées des différents personnages.
Robin Hobb a écrit ce cycle en crescendo, et ce dernier tome est à la hauteur des espérances que les deux précédents avaient laisser présager.
A l'instar des autres livres de Robin Hobb, on a du mal à le lâcher une fois qu'on est entré dedans.
Et une fois que vous aurez fini ce cycle, il sera alors temps de plonger dans la trilogie qui suit : "The Tawny Man" qui en est la continuité.
A lire absolument !
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3 internautes sur 3 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
4.0 étoiles sur 5 T.B. 28 janvier 2003
Ce dernier tome termine bien toute l'histoire, Robin Hobb reste fidèle à elle-même : pas de lenteurs, une histoire bien menée, des personnages aussi intéressants les uns que les autres... et quelques idées sympathiques sur nous autres petits hommes, le genre de choses qui, je trouve, éclaire un livre.
Il me semble quand même que les tomes précédents étaient plus riches en suspens, mais celui-ci ne dépareille pas.
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1 internautes sur 1 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 on en redemande 9 novembre 2011
Format:Poche|Achat vérifié
Cette fin a toutes les qualités des deux tomes précédents, l'évolution des personnages notamment est brillamment mise en scène. On a tout de même l'impression d'une fin un peu précipitée, et de certaines facilités dans la manière dont les choses sont résolues. Et pourtant, je ne peux pas mettre moins de 5 étoiles. J'ai laissé avec regret les personnages et leur monde, et vais me jeter sur la trilogie suivante (Tawny Man)
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Par Iris
Format:Broché|Achat vérifié
I was not in the least disappointed by the last book of the trilogy... I devoured it! And now that I am done, I feel a bit lonely... I miss the characters. So I think I will read The Liveship Traders again as soon as possible.
Robin Hobb's writing is delighting, because it is so accurate. I think she depicts human beings perfectly, and her heroes are just normal human beings, with feelings, and making mistakes. That is what makes her characters moving, anw why you become attached to them.
Definitely worth reading! I would even say: a MUST-READ for fantasy and sea adventures' amateurs!
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4.0 étoiles sur 5 captivant! 7 septembre 2011
Par Blanc
cette histoire, qui est le dernier tome de la trilogie, est tout aussi bien que les 2 précedents. Les personnages sont captivants de part les épreuves qu'ils vivent et comment ils evoluent. cette idée des "bateaux vivants" est aussi geniale. Robin Hobb a vraiment une imagination extraordinaire. Je ne met pas 5 étoiles pour la seule raison que cette histoire, même si j'ai eu beaucoup de plaisir a la lire, ne m'a pas autant passionné que "l'assassin royal" du même auteur.
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3 internautes sur 4 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
4.0 étoiles sur 5 une belle conclusion 3 novembre 2004
Par Un client
Comme d'hab, c'est toujours difficile de finir un ouvrage de HOBB. Pourtant le bouquin est gros (900 pages par tome), mais la psychologie des personnages est si bien décrite qu'ils sont peu à peu devenu réels. Je vais avoir du mal à m'en séparer, surtout après avoir vécu tant d'aventures et d'intrigues. Seule bémol pour les mecs, la trilogie est peut-être un peu trop "féminine", avec de longues descriptions psychologiques, parfois des lenteurs, et beaucoup de personnages féminins, c'est plus une saga familiale qu'un bouquin d'héroic fantaisy classique.
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4.0 étoiles sur 5 ah ! Ambre, athléa... 16 février 2006
Par alea
et tous les autres, ça y est c'est fini, et l'auteur réussit sans tomber dans le classique happy end... Des morts, il y en a , des survivants aussi. Et on les aime, on les admire, on est avec eux.
What could I say ? Go north !
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5.0 étoiles sur 5 the best of the 3 books of the series 29 juillet 2015
Par Bourdemi
Format:Poche|Achat vérifié
answers begin to appear, characters to show their real strenght and destiny finally accomplish. Great great book!
I you love long fantasy adventures where women are clever and have power on the events of the world, you may love it :)
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Commentaires client les plus récents
5.0 étoiles sur 5 cadeau.
C'était un cadeaux. Le receveur a été très content, comme avec tous les livres de Robin HOBB.
Bien emballé. Belle edition
Publié il y a 7 mois par M. Dunne, Barry
3.0 étoiles sur 5 honnête
de loin pas la meilleure série de l'auteur mais bon quand on est amateur du genre ca reste divertissant et c'est pas trop mal écrit
Publié il y a 23 mois par Neau Nicolas
5.0 étoiles sur 5 J'adore
Dernier volume des "Liveship Traders". Une belle suite et fin comme je les aime. Robin Hobb est toujours aussi géniale. Un petit goût de trop peu? Lire la suite
Publié le 4 mars 2013 par Blazy Clémence
4.0 étoiles sur 5 Très bien
Du Robin Hobb. Digne de la saga de l’assassin royal. N'hésitez pas, cette série est aussi passionnante. Lire la suite
Publié le 25 décembre 2012 par De Saint Pol
5.0 étoiles sur 5 transaction sans problème
Livre impeccable reçu assez rapidement compte tenu de la période. Il serait néanmoins intéressant de préciser clairement qu'il s'agit de livres "de... Lire la suite
Publié le 2 janvier 2010 par thaddette
4.0 étoiles sur 5 Ce dernier tome termine bien toute l'histoire
Robin Hobb reste fidèle à elle-même : pas de lenteurs, une histoire bien menée, des personnages aussi intéressants les uns que les autres... Lire la suite
Publié le 23 mai 2006 par M.Bergeron
4.0 étoiles sur 5 Un peu long à démarrer
Je trouve ce livre de Robin Hobb moins accrocheur que ces précédents livres (l'assassin royal).
J'ai mis 400 pages à me faire aux personnages. Lire la suite
Publié le 3 octobre 2005
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