He was Tiger, born of the desert winds. She was Del, born of ice and storm.
I rarely make mistakes regarding Fantasy books as nearly two decades of reading little else has given me what I like to call "my Fantasy instinct." Like anyone I read the back/inside cover and from that judge whether or not I think I would really like the book, but my Fantasy instinct allows me to feel the book in question, to sense its aura one might say. Call it esoteric if you will, call it a sixth sense/instinct born from long experience, but, regardless of name, the result is that 99% of the time I am correct. There is a reason, after all, why I can count the Fantasies I have quit using my fingers and still have some leftover. That said, and as the above statement affirms, I can be wrong and have quit books; rarely, rare enough as to be almost never, but it does happen and, alas, with increasing frequency since the grimdark (such as GRRM's and Kearney's) can fool my Fantasy instinct. Hence when I do stop a book I never look back, having quit only after long and deliberate thought. Naturally I remember them, but I never regret or second guess my choice to quit.
Until now. One series has haunted me for years, one I stopped shortly before starting this more or less humble blog back in 2016. One whose story and characters lingered, one I have been tempted to give a second chance. A temptation I now yield to, for I just restarted Sword-Maker, volume three of the Novels of Tiger and Del by Jennifer Roberson. Time to step back into the circle. Time to find out what wretched wizard is sending fell hounds after people and what the deal is with Tiger and that blooding-blade Samiel.
Time to determine once and for all if this series will have a place on my bookshelf.
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