Raymond E. Feist - Riftwar Saga 1a - Magician Apprentice

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vol. 1B The Master Magician

vol. 2 Silverthorn

vol. 4 A Darkness at Sethanon

writing, part-time, while I was an employee of the University of California,

San Diego. It is now some fifteen years later, and I have been a full-time

writer for the last fourteen years, successful in this craft beyond my wildest

dreams. Magician, the first novel in what became known as The Riftwar

Saga, was a book that quickly took on a life of its own. I hesitate to admit

this publicly, but the truth is that part of the success of the book was my

ignorance of what makes a commercially successful novel. My willingness

to plunge blindly forward into a tale spanning two dissimilar worlds,

covering twelve years in the lives of several major and dozens of minor

characters, breaking numerous rules of plotting along the way, seemed to

find kindred souls among readers the world over. After a decade in print,

my best judgment is that the appeal of the book is based upon its being

what was known once as a "ripping yarn." I had little ambition beyond

spinning a good story, one that satisfied my sense of wonder, adventure,

and whimsy. It turned out that several million readers-many of whom read

translations in languages I can't even begin to comprehend-found it one that

satisfied their tastes for such a yarn as well.

But insofar as it was a first effort, some pressures of the marketplace did

manifest themselves during the creation of the final book. Magician is by

anyone's measure a large book. When the penultimate manuscript version

moments of reflection and mirth that act to balance the more frenetic

activity of conflict and adventure, all these things were "close but not quite

what I had in mind."

In any event, to celebrate the tenth anniversary of the original

publication of Magician, I have been permitted to return to this work, to

reconstruct and change, to add and cut as I see fit, to bring forth what is

known in publishing as the "Author's Preferred Edition" of the work.

So, with the old admonition, "If it ain't broke, don't fix it," ringing in my

ears, I return to the first work I undertook, back when I had no pretensions

of craft, no stature as a best-selling author, and basically no idea of what I

was doing. My desire is to restore some of those excised bits, some of the

minor detail that I felt added to the heft of the narrative, as well as the

weight of the book. Other material was more directly related to the books

that follow, setting some of the background for the mythic underpinning of

the Riftwar. The slightly lengthy discussion of lore between Tully and

Kulgan in Chapter Three, as well as some of the things revealed to Pug on

the Tower of Testing were clearly in this area. My editor wasn't sold on the

idea of a sequel, then, so some of this was cut. Returning it may be self-

indulgent, but as this was material I felt belonged in the original book, it

has been restored.

and forgotten adventure, then consider this edition your opportunity to see a

bit more than the last time. And to the new reader, welcome. I trust you'll

find this work to your satisfaction.

It is with profound gratitude I wish to thank you all, new readers and

old acquaintances, for without your support and encouragement, ten years

of "ripping yarns" could not have been possible. If I have the opportunity to

provide you with a small part of the pleasure I feel in being able to share

my fanciful adventures with you, we are equally rewarded, for by your

embracing my works you have allowed me to fashion more. Without you

there would have been no Silverthorn, A Darkness at Sethanon, Faerie

Tale, and no Empire Trilogy. The letters get read, if not answered-even if

they sometimes take months to reach me and the kind remarks, in passing

at public appearances, have enriched me beyond measure. But most of all,

you gave me the freedom to practice a craft that was begun to "see if I

could do it," while working at the Residence halls of John Muir College at

UCSD.

So, thank you. I guess I did it. And with this work, I hope you'll agree

that this time I did it a little more elegantly, with a little more color, weight,

and resonance.

RAYMOND E. FEIST

sack of sandcrawlers, rockclaws, and crabs plucked from this water garden.

The afternoon sun sent sparkles through the sea spray swirling around him,

as the west wind blew his sun-streaked brown hair about. Pug set his sack

down, checked to make sure it was securely tied, then squatted on a clear

patch of sand. The sack was not quite full, but Pug relished the extra hour

or so that he could relax. Megar the cook wouldn't trouble him about the

time as long as the sack was almost full. Resting with his back against a

large rock, Pug was soon dozing in the sun's warmth. A cool wet spray

woke him hours later. He opened his eyes with a start, knowing he had

stayed much too long.

Westward, over the sea, dark thunderheads were forming above the

black outline of the Six Sisters, the small islands on the horizon. The

roiling, surging clouds, with rain trailing below like some sooty veil,

heralded another of the sudden storms common to this part of the coast in

early summer.

To the south, the high bluffs of Sailor's Grief reared up against the sky,

as waves crashed against the base of that rocky pinnacle. Whitecaps started

to form behind the breakers, a sure sign the storm would quickly strike. Pug

knew he was in danger, for the storms of summer could drown anyone on

the beaches, or if severe enough, on the low ground beyond. He picked up

The storm was coming in faster than he would have thought possible,

driving the rising tide before it. By the time he reached the second stretch

of tide pools, there was barely ten feet of dry sand between water's edge

and cliffs. Pug hurried as fast as was safe across the rocks, twice nearly

catching his foot. As he reached the next expanse of sand, he mistimed his

jump from the last rock and landed poorly. He fell to the sand, grasping his

ankle. As if waiting for the mishap, the tide surged forward, covering him

for a moment. He reached out blindly and felt his sack carried away.

Frantically grabbing at it, Pug lunged forward, only to have his ankle fail.

He went under, gulping water. He raised his head, sputtering and coughing.

He started to stand when a second wave, higher than the last, hit him in the

chest, knocking him backward. Pug had grown up playing in the waves and

was an experienced swimmer, but the pain of his ankle and the battering of

the waves were bringing him to the edge of panic. He fought it off and

came up for air as the wave receded. He half swam, half scrambled toward

the cliff face, knowing the water would be only inches deep there. Pug

reached the cliffs and leaned against them, keeping as much weight off the

injured ankle as possible. He inched along the rock wall, while each wave

brought the water higher. When Pug finally reached a place where he could

make his way upward, water was swirling at his waist.

ankle. It was tender to the touch, but he was reassured when he could move

it: it was not broken. He would have to limp the entire way back, but with

the threat of drowning on the beach behind him, he felt relatively buoyant.

Pug would be a drenched, chilled wretch when he reached the town. He

would have to find a lodging there, for the gates of the castle would be

closed for the night, and with his tender ankle he would not attempt to

climb the wall behind the stables. Besides, should he wait and slip into the

keep the next day, only Megar would have words for him, but if he was

caught coming over the wall, Swordmaster Fannon or Horsemaster Algon

would surely have a lot worse in store for him than words. While he rested,

the rain took on an insistent quality and the sky darkened as the late-

afternoon sun was completely engulfed in storm clouds. His momentary

relief was replaced with anger at himself for losing the sack of

sandcrawlers. His displeasure doubled when he considered his folly at

falling asleep. Had he remained awake, he would have made the return trip

unhurriedly, would not have sprained his ankle, and would have had time to

explore the streambed above the bluffs for the smooth stones he prized so

dearly for slinging. Now there would be no stones, and it would be at least

another week before he could return. If Megar didn't send another boy

instead, which was likely now that he was returning empty-handed. Pug's

wondered at his misfortune. Taking a deep breath, he leaned on his staff as

he started across the low rolling hills that divided the bluffs from the road.

Stands of small trees were scattered over the landscape, and Pug regretted

there wasn't more substantial shelter nearby, for there was none upon the

bluffs. He would be no wetter for trudging to town than for staying under a

tree.

The wind picked up, and Pug felt the first cold bite against his wet back.

He shivered and hurried his pace as well as he could. The small trees

started to bend before the wind, and Pug felt as if a great hand were

pushing at his back. Reaching the road, he turned north. He heard the eerie

sound of the great forest off to the east, the wind whistling through the

branches of the ancient oaks, adding to its already foreboding aspect. The

dark glades of the forest were probably no more perilous than the King's

road, but remembered tales of outlaws and other, less human, malefactors

stirred the hairs on the boy's neck. Cutting across the King's road, Pug

gained a little shelter in the gully that ran alongside it. The wind intensified

and rain stung his eyes, bringing tears to already wet cheeks. A gust caught

him, and he stumbled off balance for a moment Water was gathering in the

roadside gully, and he had to step carefully to keep from losing his footing

in unexpectedly deep puddles. For nearly an hour he made his way through

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摘要：

vol.1BTheMasterMagicianvol.2Silverthornvol.4ADarknessatSethanonwriting,part-time,whileIwasanemployeeoftheUniversityofCalifornia,SanDiego.Itisnowsomefifteenyearslater,andIhavebeenafull-timewriterforthelastfourteenyears,successfulinthiscraftbeyondmywildestdreams.Magician,thefirstnovelinwhatbecameknown...

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Raymond E. Feist - Riftwar Saga 1a - Magician Apprentice

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