It would be sheer folly to try to conceal the true nature of Althalus, for his flaws are the stuff of legend. He is, as all men know, a thief, a liar, an occasional murderer, an outrageous braggart, and a man devoid of even the slightest hint of honor.

Yet of all the men in the world, it is Althalus, unrepentant rogue and scoundrel, who will become the champion of humanity in its desperate struggle against the forces of an ancient god determined to return the universe to nothingness. On his way to steal The Book from the House at the End of the World, Althalus is confronted by a cat--a cat with eyes like emeralds, the voice of a woman, and the powers of a goddess.

She is Dweia, sister to The Gods and a greater thief even than Althalus. She must be: for in no time at all, she has stolen his heart. And more. She has stolen time itself. For when Althalus leaves the House at the End of the World, much wiser but not a day older than when he'd first entered it, thousands of years have gone by.

But Dweia is not the only one able to manipulate time. Her evil brother shares the power, and while Dweia has been teaching Althalus the secrets of The Book, the ancient God has been using the dark magic of his own Book to rewrite history. Yet all is not lost. But only if Althalus, still a thief at heart, can bring together a ragtag group of men, women, and children with no reason to trust him or each other.

 

Althalus the thief spent ten days on the road down out of the mountains of
Kagwher to reach the imperial city of Deika. As he was coming out of the
foothills, he passed a limestone quarry where miserable slaves spent their
lives under the whip laboriously sawing building blocks out of the
limestone with heavy bronze saws. Althalus had heard about slavery, of
course, but this was the first time he'd ever actually seen slaves. As he
strode on toward the plains of Equero, he had a little chat with his good
luck about the subject, strongly suggesting to her that if she really
loved him, she'd do everything she possibly could to keep him from ever
becoming a slave.

The city of Deika lay at the southern end of a large lake in northern
Equero, and it was even more splendid than the stories had said it was. It
was surrounded by a high stone wall made of squared-off limestone blocks,
and all the buildings inside the walls were also made of stone.

The broad streets of Deika were paved with flagstones, and the public
buildings soared to the sky. Everyone in town who thought he was
important wore a splendid linen mantle, and every private house was
identified by a statue of its owner-usually so idealized that any actual
resemblance to the man so identified was purely coincidental.

Althalus was garbed in clothes suitable for the frontier, and he received
many disparaging glances from passersby as he viewed the splendors of the
imperial city. After a while, he grew tired of that and sought out a
quarter of town where the men in the streets wore more commonplace
garments and less superior expressions.

Finally he located a fishermen's tavern near the lakefront, and he stopped
there to sit and to listen, since fishermen the world over love to talk.
He sat unobtrusively nursing a cup of sour wine while the tar-smeared men
around him talked shop.

"I don't believe I've ever seen you here before," one of the men said to
Althalus.

"I'm from out of town," Althalus replied.

"Oh? Where from?"

"Up in the mountains. I came down to look at civilization."

"Well, what do you think of our city?"

"Very impressive. I'm almost as impressed with your city as some of the
town's rich men seem to be with themselves."

One of the fishermen laughed cynically. "You passed near the forum, I take
it."

"If that's the place where all the fancy buildings are, yes I did. And if
you want it, you can take as much of my share of it as you desire."

"You didn't care for our wealthy?"

"Apparently not as much as they did, that's for certain. People like us
should avoid the rich if we possibly can. Sooner or later, we'll probably
be bad for their eyes."

"How's that?" another fisherman asked.

"Well, all those fellows in the forum-the ones who wear fancy nightgowns
in the street-kept looking down their noses at me. If a man spends all his
time doing that, sooner or later it's going to make him cross-eyed."

The fishermen all laughed, and the atmosphere in the tavern became relaxed
and friendly. Althalus had skillfully introduced the topic dearest to his
heart, and they all spent the rest of the afternoon talking about the
well-to-do of Deika. By evening, Althalus had committed several names to
memory. He spent another few days narrowing down his list, and he
ultimately settled on a very wealthy salt merchant named Kweso. Then he
went to the central marketplace, visited the marble-lined public baths,
and then dipped into his purse to buy some clothing that more closely fit
into the current fashion of...

 

Library Journal...

"Highly recommended . . . Featuring a cast of engaging characters, some fanciful plot twists, and a light-hearted atmosphere that should appeal strongly to fans and first-time readers alike."

 

Booklist...

"The story takes off. The interactions between characters, straightforward plotting, and doses of wry humor keep the tale humming."

 

Publishers Weekly...

"An engaging young reprobate hero . . . [A] magical realm of good-natured fun."

 

Science Fiction Chronicle...

"A compelling, involving story."

 

David Eddings published his first novel, High Hunt, in 1973, before turning to the field of fantasy and The Belgariad, soon followed by The Malloreon. Born in Spokane, Washington, in 1931, and raised in the Puget Sound area north of Seattle, he received his bachelor of arts degree from Reed College in Portland, Oregon, in 1954 and a master of arts degree from the University of Washington in 1961. He has served in the United States Army, has worked as a buyer for the Boeing Company, and has been a grocery clerk and a college English teacher.

Leigh Eddings has collaborated with her husband for more than a dozen...

 

The Redemption of Althalus by David Eddings
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