As with previous volumes, both volumes of A SEA OF SKULLS will feature an original full-page work of art from our partners at Tamburn Bindery. Our objective of publishing The Most Beautiful Books in the World is serious, and we never stop trying to figure out how we can further improve our designs and production qualities.
An excerpt from A SEA OF SKULLS:
It was the fourth day of their journey downward and Lodi found himself beginning to fantasize about pushing his pretty young travel-companion off the cart. He would have thought her mute were it not for their single earlier exchange; she responded to most of his conversational overtures with a flat, uncomprehending stare that would have done credit to an orc being lectured on the gods by an Amorran priest. It was maddening to sit so close to her in the darkness, knowing that she was there, smelling the alluring scent of her body, and not even being able to talk to her. For a dwarf who had been away and above for very nearly a year, it was something akin to torture. Even if she had been an older dwarfess, like the Bodel-wife, he might have found her tempting. But the young Deepling was as exquisite as a newly found gold vein rated at more than 20 unsam per tonne!
His one saving grace, the one thing that kept him from giving into the temptation to take her in his arms or make a fool of himself by trying to kiss her, was the fact that he was still in a considerable amount of pain. His wounds were healing, but they were far from fully healed, and indeed, twice each day Myf crushed a bit of glowmoss and checked his bandages in the dim green glow it cast, changing them if she deemed it necessary. Her touch was always light and gentle, and if he closed his eyes he could almost imagine she was caressing him. And yet, despite her tenderness, she never said a word nor evinced even the slightest interest in any of his conversational gambits. By the end of the second day, he gave up trying to break through her reserve and contented himself by lying back on his well-beaten leather pack and calculating how much profit his various veins had produced during his absence.
That was one benefit of being an adventurer in the King’s service. It kept one’s expenses down. On the other hand, it had led him here, where he was lying on his back in the dark, wounded, bored, and frustrated. At times, he actually found himself wishing he was back in the troll-infested mountains of Uskiluhk, clinging to the side of a windswept cliff and hoping that an angry wyrm wouldn’t notice him. At least in Uskiluhk, there was no possibility of feminine companionship, barring an unlikely decision to court an orc.
He knew he was only making matters worse for himself, but he couldn’t help it. Each time the pitch dark was sporadically broken by strategically placed glowmoss on the walls, he immediately turned to look at Myf. Even though each flashing, blurry glimpse lasted only seconds, it wasn’t long before he had her every feature burned into his mind.