Praise for Sullivan’s Work
“Riyria has everything you could possibly wish for: the characters are some of the best I’ve ever encountered in fantasy literature, the writing is top notch, and the plotting is so tight you’d be hard-pressed to find a mouse hole in it.” — B&N Sci-fi & Fantasy Blog
“This epic fantasy showcases the arrival of a master storyteller.” — Library Journal on Theft of Swords
“A delightful, entertaining and page-turning read that reminds us just how enjoyable, and how good The Riyria Revelations series is. A must-buy for all fantasy lovers.” — The Founding Fields on Rise of Empire
“Heir of Novron is the conclusion to the Riyria Revelations, cementing it in a position as a new classic of modern fantasy: traditional in setting, but extremely unconventional in, well, everything else.” — Drying Ink on Heir of Novron
“Snappy banter, desperate stakes, pulse pounding sword play, and good old fashioned heroics are all on full display here.” — 52 Book Reviews on The Crown Tower
“With less gore and a smaller cast of characters than George R.R. Martin’s “Song of Ice & Fire” but equally satisfying, Sullivan’s epic fantasy will be gaining fans at exponential rates.” — Library Journal on The Rose and the Thorn
“No question about it, this book is another winner, bringing back everything I love about Riyria: great characters, great setting, great story. I really couldn’t have asked for more.” — The Speculative Herald on The Death of Dulgath
“Age of Myth bears the hallmark storytelling genius that we have all come to love of Michael’s work. It’s fast-paced, intimate, and beautifully cultivated.” — Fantasy Book Review on Age of Myth
“Sullivan’s ability to craft an engaging and captivating fantasy world surpasses most any other fantasy author out there, and puts him alongside names like Sanderson and Jordan.” — Fantasy Book Review on Age of Swords
“Another tale full of twists, turns and that brand of humour only Royce and Hadrian can provide. The absolute best literary duo ever - EVER.” — Scott Vout, beta reader on The Disappearance of Winter’s Daughter
About the Book
(From the Back Cover)
A DAUGHTER VANISHES. TWO ROGUES ARE PAID A FORTUNE TO FIND HER. IT WAS’T ENOUGH.
When Gabriel Winter’s daughter mysteriously disappears and is presumed dead, the wealthy whiskey baron seeks revenge. Having lived in Colnora during the infamous Year of Fear, he hires the one man he knows can deliver a bloody retribution—the notorious Duster.
Ride with Royce and Hadrian as the cynical ex-assassin and idealistic ex-mercenary travel to a mysterious old-world city filled with nobles claiming descent from imperial aristocracy. Riyria’s job appears easy: discover what happened to the missing duchess and, if she lives, bring her home . . . if not, punish those responsible. But nothing is simple in the crowded, narrow, mist-filled streets of Rochelle, where more than one ancient legend lurks.
Works by Michael J. Sullivan
Novels
The Legends of the First Empire
Age of Myth • Age of Swords • Age of War
Forthcoming: Age of Legend (Spring 2019) • Age of Death (Fall 2019)
Age of Empyre (Spring 2020)
The Riyria Revelations
Theft of Swords (contains The Crown Conspiracy and Avempartha)
Rise of Empire (contains Nyphron Rising and The Emerald Storm)
Heir of Novron (contains Wintertide and Percepliquis)
The Riyria Chronicles
The Crown Tower
The Rose and the Thorn
The Death of Dulgath
The Disappearance of Winter’s Daughter
Blood of Thieves (contains The Crown Tower and The Rose and the Thorn)
Standalone Novels
Hollow World
Anthologies
Unfettered: The Jester (Fantasy: The Riyria Chronicles)
Unfettered II: Little Wren and the Big Forest(Fantasy: The Legends of the First Empire)
Unbound: The Game (Urban Fantasy)
Blackguards: Professional Integrity (Fantasy: The Riyria Chronicles)
The End: Visions of the Apocalypse: Burning Alexandria (Dystopian Science Fiction)
Triumph Over Tragedy: Traditions (Fantasy: Tales from Elan)
The Fantasy Faction Anthology: Autumn Mists (Fantasy: Contemporary)
Help Fund My Robot Army: Be Careful What You Wish For (Fantasy)
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the copying, scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book (other than for review purposes) without permission is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from this book, prior written permission can be obtained by contacting the author at michael.sullivan.dc@gmail.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
The Disappearance of Winter’s Daughter © 2017 by Michael J. Sullivan
Cover Illustration © 2017 by Marc Simonetti
Cover Design © 2017 by Michael J. Sullivan
Maps © 2015 by Michael J. Sullivan
ebook Formatting Design by Robin Sullivan
ISBN: 978-1-9433631-7
Ebook version: 1.08
All rights reserved.
Learn more about Michael’s writings at www.riyria.com
To contact Michael, email him at michael.sullivan.dc@gmail.com
Michael’s Novels Include:
The Legends of the First Empire Series: Age of Myth • Age of Swords • Age of War • Coming soon: Age of Legend • Age of Death • Age of Empyre
The Riyria Revelations: Theft of Swords • Rise of Empire • Heir of Novron
The Riyria Chronicles: The Crown Tower • The Rose and the Thorn • The Death of Dulgath • The Disappearance of Winter’s Daughter
Standalone titles: Hollow World
To Royce and Hadrian:
two thieves who stole hearts
and fulfilled dreams.
Author’s Note
It may seem odd to dedicate a book to two fictional characters, especially ones of my own creation, but the pair have taken on lives of their own, and these days, I’m a simple observer listening to their conversations and following their exploits. Watching the pair has fulfilled a dream, one that I once felt was forever beyond my reach. To understand why I felt this way, let me take you on a short (yes, Robin, I promise it will be brief) journey back in time.
In 2004, when I wrote the first Riyria book, The Crown Conspiracy (the first half of Theft of Swords), I never thought I would be where I am now. The book I had finished directly before that one was called A Burden to the Earth, and it was written in 1994, a full decade earlier. You haven’t read it. I can count on one hand the number of people who have—it was the straw that broke my camel’s back. You see, from 1975 to 1994, I wrote thirteen novels and four short stories, and all that work got me exactly nowhere.
The first eight books weren’t meant for publication. They were practice tales created to teach myself how to write. Having spent a decade learning the craft, I spent the next eight years penning five books and riding the query-go-round. None of that effort produced a single offer of publication; its only product was the assemblage of heart-wrenching rejections, apparently a rite of passage for nearly all authors.
Eighteen years is a long time to delude oneself, and it finally sank in that I’d never be a writer. So, I did the only sane thing I could . . . I quit. A reasonable conclusion given what Albert Einstein said: “The defin
ition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.”
I should note that during this time, my wife, Robin, was a saint of the highest order. I never had to juggle writing with a career; she was willing to be the single wage-earner and never once asked me to “quit this nonsense and get a real job.” She knew that writing was my joy and my passion, and if doing it made me happy, that was good enough for her.
So, as I said, I finally wised up, and I left writing with dramatic flair. I saw myself as Scarlett O’Hara just before Gone with the Wind’s intermission, but my declaration was “I shall never write creatively again!” I couldn’t imagine anything that could make me break that vow—which brings me back to Royce and Hadrian.
All these books have allowed me to return Robin’s gift, and she left her day job in 2011. And while she still works incredibly hard (all on my behalf and for the benefit of the readers), at least she can set her own schedule, she doesn’t have to “dress for success,” and her longest commute is from the bedroom to the porch where she spends the mornings watching the sun come up over the mountains of the Shenandoah Valley.
So, yes, I dedicated this book to Royce and Hadrian, for their constant whispering during that terrible decade when writing wasn’t a part of my life, and for staying with me once I returned to the keyboard. Each time I sit down to write about the pair, it’s like reuniting with old friends, and my work on The Disappearance of Winter’s Daughter was no exception. If you enjoy reading it half as much as I enjoyed writing it, then you should have a very fun time indeed.
With that out of the way, I have a few housekeeping things to go over before I get on to the tale. First, if you are new to the Riyria stories, you certainly can start with this book. Yes, that sounds strange since it’s the fourth book in the Riyria Chronicles and the tenth Riyria novel as a whole, so let me explain. I’ve continued the same technique as I used for The Death of Dulgath, which was also designed to stand on its own. I’ve received reader feedback from hundreds of people who’ve read only that book, and they confirm no prior knowledge was required. In addition, I sent The Disappearance of Winter’s Daughter to another group (none of whom have read any of my novels) and each one confirmed the lack of Riyria familiarity wasn’t a problem.
Second, in my more recent works, I’ve asked people to drop me a line if they feel inclined to do so, and I’m happy to say that many have taken me up on the offer . . . some of whom have never written an author before. Their emails often start out with, “I don’t want to bother you, but . . . ” Let me assure you, hearing from readers is never a bother. Writing is its own reward, but learning that my scribblings have been enjoyed by others takes a good thing and makes it even better. So, please, by all means, drop me a line. My address is michael.sullivan.dc@gmail.com.
Third, and this is last, but certainly not least: My eternal gratitude goes out to you, the readers, without whom my dream of being an author could never have been fully realized. Yes, I would still pen my tales (I won’t be quitting again), but your generous support keeps me and Robin away from the dreaded “day jobs,” and that means we have more time to create stories for you—a synergistic arrangement if ever there was one. So in conclusion, I want to say, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” I take your trust seriously and will always strive to put out the very best book that I’m capable of creating. I hope you find it worthy of your time.
Now turn the page, tap the screen, or adjust the volume. A new adventure awaits, and I’m glad you’ll be along for the ride.
— Michael J. SullivanOctober 2017
World Map
Maps are problematic on many ereaders that don’t have adequate resolution to display them, and for this reason you can access a high-resolution map online.
Close-up Map
Contents
Praise for Sullivan’s Work
About the Book
Works by Michael J. Sullivan
Copyright
Dedication
Author’s Note
World Map
Chapter 1: Vested Interest
Chapter 2: The Return of Virgil Puck
Chapter 3: The Whiskey Baron
Chapter 4: Rochelle
Chapter 5: Mercator
Chapter 6: Over Lamb and Small Beer
Chapter 7: Breakfast
Chapter 8: A Tale of Two Soldiers
Chapter 9: The Gold Eater
Chapter 10: Venlin Is Standing
Chapter 11: Little Gur Em
Chapter 12: Unicorns and Polka Dots
Chapter 13: Grom Galimus
Chapter 14: The Driver
Chapter 15: Bird Hunting
Chapter 16: Looking Away
Chapter 18: The Rasa
Chapter 19: Living Proof
Chapter 20: Jiggery-Pokery
Chapter 21: The Duke
Chapter 22: The Morning After
Chapter 23: A Prayer to Novron
Chapter 24: Haunted
Chapter 25: Keys and Coins
Chapter 26: Haggling
Chapter 27: The Spring Feast
Chapter 28: Hide-and-Seek
Chapter 29: Winter’s Daughter
Afterword
Acknowledgments
Kickstarter Backers
About the Author
Chapter One
Vested Interest
Devon De Luda wondered, and not for the first time, if Genevieve Hargrave, the Duchess of Rochelle, was insane.
“Stop! Stop!” she shouted while hammering her fist against the roof of the carriage.
She shot a sharp look his way and commanded, “Make him stop!” Then she pushed her head out of the window and yelled up at the driver, “Rein in those beasts, for Maribor’s sake. Now!”
The coachman must have assumed an emergency, halting the carriage so abruptly that Devon flew against the opposite bench. The moment the wheels stopped, even a bit before, the duchess launched herself out the door and raced away, skirts hiked, heels clacking.
Abandoned and dumbfounded, Devon nursed his banged knee. As ducal cofferer of Rochelle, Devon usually performed duties revolving around coins and notes. He didn’t welcome his newfound responsibility of looking after such an impulsive whirlwind; he preferred an ordered, predictable existence. But nothing had been normal in the city since the new duchess’s arrival.
Maybe she is, at least a touch, mad. It would explain so many things.
Devon considered simply waiting in the carriage, but if anything happened to her, he would be blamed. With a sigh of resignation, he climbed out of the carriage and followed the duchess.
Darkness had settled in early, the spring days still short; like prosperity, the season of rebirth had been slow to arrive in Alburn. The rain had stopped, but an evening mist crept in from the sea, ensuring that everything remained damp. Cobblestones glistened in the light of streetlamps, and the world beyond the carriage smelled of wood, smoke, and fish. A smattering of puddles created an obstacle course for Devon’s new shoes, and as he picked his path through them, he tugged
the collar of his coat more tightly around his neck. Inside the carriage, it hadn’t been warm, but the evening’s air was bitterly cold. They were on Vintage Avenue, both sides bordered by reputable three-story mercantile shops. On the curbs, dozens of carts lined the street, where migrants sold a circus of wares. Colorful scarves, embroidered saddles, and fresh-roasted pig were sold side by side. As always, a seedy crowd had gathered in the chaotic hive of commerce—few could afford to do much more than look at the scarves and smell the pig.
The duchess trotted down the line of merchants. She bustled through the crowd, most of whom stopped short and stared in wonderment at this heavyset lady in satin and pearls chugging down the thoroughfare, her heeled shoes clip-clopping as loudly as a horse.
“Milady!” De Luda chased after her. “Where are you going?”
The duchess didn’t pause or slow until she reached a rickety cart holding up a rack of clothes. There she halted, panting, and stared up at the display.
“It’s perfect.” The duchess clapped. “That vest, the one with the satin front and floret pattern. You see it? It’s not my taste at all, you understand, but Leo will love it. The print is so bold and vibrant. And it’s blue! It’ll be exactly what he needs for the Spring Feast. He’ll definitely be noticed in that. No one could wear that vest without standing out.”
Devon had no idea who she was talking to, and perhaps she didn’t, either. With the duchess, it rarely mattered. While Devon spent more time with Her Ladyship than many, he hadn’t seen her often. The duchess sought him out only when she required advice on ducal economics, which had brought them together only a few times—although more often lately as she had embarked on a new endeavor. Even so, a dozen summonses, a few carriage rides, and a talk or two hadn’t provided him enough information to know, much less understand, the new duchess. Devon doubted even the duke understood the actions of his new wife.