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Although this was my first published novel, it was the second I wrote. Because of a strange combination of circumstances (I never have any other kind, actually), the first came second and the second first. Typical Mayhar! These books came about as a result of several short stories, a couple of which were bought by magazines. The characters of Seekers of Shar-Nuhn kept pestering me with mental images that I had to explore. They all turned into stories until Seekers was completed. Then the world I had created kept at me until How the Gods Wove came into being, written in a year’s worth of Monday afternoons. Other books of mine are set in that world, though not obviously recognizable.
I call most of these books metaphysical fiction. I also call them great fun to write and, I hope, to read.
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So, when Tisha paused, at midmorning, to study the mix of prints in the damp leaf-mold of the trail, Cara was just behind.
“The Wildings have been abroad,” whispered the woman. “Here are the prints of Leera, the mate of Loor. Do you remember, years ago, that she wrenched her foot awry amid the stones of the stream and came to me for aid? It left her lame, and here is her mark. The man walks in another direction than this, or Loor would surely have been with Leera. We must turn our steps to the east, toward the foothills. Pray that the People of the Heights be wary and avoid his path.”
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