Grandmaster (Grandmaster, Book 1)

By Warren Murphy, Molly Cochran

Publish yr note: First released in 1984
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From manhattan instances bestselling authors Molly Cochran and Warren Murphy, Grandmaster is a secret Writers of the United States "Edgar" award-winning mystery spanning the globe from Moscow to Washington, Havana to Tibet.

Born hundreds of thousands of miles aside lower than the mystical signal of the gold coiled serpent, Justin Gilead and Alexander Zharkov are destined to struggle each other all through their lives in a quest for final strength. As younger boys, rooks and pawns have been their guns of selection. many years later, they hire way more risky technique of destruction.

Justin has develop into a grasp secret agent; Alexander, the ruthless head of a mystery supplier. every one is the possessor of a rare mind and mythical abilities. Their paths will move once again as they struggle jointly opposed to a terrifying evil. yet finally they need to struggle to damage the opposite.

There can purely be one Grandmaster.

Literary Awards
Edgar Award for top Paperback unique (1985)

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The androgynous gnome stood close to him. "Where is she? " Zharkov snapped. "The goddess Varja instructions you in different places. " "Commands? " He stared imperiously on the little consultant. "Commands," the Asian repeated with insurance, then gestured towards the door. Zharkov undefined. He was once taken to a different room. It used to be smaller and painted stark white. there have been no furniture in it aside from a wide white dais within the form of a dice. On best of the dice, lined by means of many layers of white silk, rested a protracted item. He waited by myself within the room for a while sooner than Varja entered. She was once donning a protracted costume of black brocade studded with rubies, like 1000 crimson eyes that observed into his soul. Zharkov trembled in her presence. As ahead of, the very sight of her mesmerized him and infused in him a feeling of utter, unquestioning obedience. She held out her hand. each finger on it was once coated with priceless jewelry, and an important ruby certain her wrist. Zharkov fell to 1 knee in entrance of her and kissed it. "You have happy me, my prince," she acknowledged. "As present, i've got known as you the following to teach you a present that i'm going to offer you in future years. " "Whatever you've selected to offer me, goddess, everytime you select for me to obtain it, i'll treasure. " She smiled. "You will almost certainly treasure this," she stated. "It may be of significant aid to you later, and enjoyment past counting. it is going to be yours to exploit as you please, and damage if you happen to decide on. " He rose. "But i'll by no means ruin a present from you. " "Not now, possibly, yet sometime. if you are really my disciple, whilst the anguish of guys and the weak point of your spirit and the necessity of your flesh not obstacle you, you are going to wreck my present. Then will you come back to me, natural, powerful, entire. Then will you be my mate for the entire a while of evil to come back. " She made a rapid gesture, and the sexless gnome seemed wearing an embroidered footstool. The Asian positioned the stool beside the dais, bowed as soon as, and departed. He climbed to the head of the dice and got rid of the thick silk wrapper. underneath it was once a woman, not more than fourteen or fifteen years previous, tall and dark-haired and lovely. And lifeless. "Her identify is Duma. i've got stored her for you," Varja whispered. "Enter her. " Zharkov felt a knot in his belly. The girl's pores and skin was once chilly as ice. "Do no longer disobey me! " the goddess shrieked, her eyes flashing. He became again to the physique. Swallowing the lump of nausea in his throat, he unfold the girl's stiff legs and opened the gown he wore. His organ was once shrunk. definitely the goddess requested an excessive amount of. absolutely he might never... in the beginning he idea the low hiss within the room was once his mind's eye. but if he grew to become towards Varja, he understood that during this position of magic, something used to be attainable. Black smoke was once issuing from the goddess's hands like serpents' tails. Her eyes have been rolled again in her cranium, exposing purely the whites, and from her mouth poured unusual sounds as old because the magic mountains themselves. And as Zharkov breathed within the acrid smoke and his ears jam-packed with the droning, savage sounds of Varja's phrases, his brain raced backward, again past reminiscence, earlier than his personal delivery, via empty centuries to the time of his ancestors.

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