THE WINDSINGERS SERIES The Complete 4-Book Collection Harpy’s Flight The Windsingers The Limbreth Gate Luck of the Wheels Robin Hobb These novels are entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in them are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. HarperVoyager An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd. 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF Harpy’s Flight © Megan Lindholm 1983 The Windsingers © Megan Lindholm 1984 The Limbreth Gate © Megan Lindholm 1984 Luck of the Wheels © Megan Lindholm 1989 Ebook Bundle Edition © Megan Lindholm Cover Layout Design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd. Megan Lindholm asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins ebooks HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication Source ISBNs: Harpy's Flight: 9780007112524 The Windsingers: 9780007112531 The Limbreth Gate: 9780007112548 Luck of the Wheels: 9780007112548 Ebook Edition © DECEMBER 2013 ISBN: 9780007555215 Version: 2016–11–21 Contents Harpy’s Flight Book One of the Windsingers Series Robin Hobb Contents The woman was an improbable speck on the vertical cliff face. Without skills or tools to aid her, she moved awkwardly up the exposed shale layering. Her close-fitting leather jerkin and coarsely woven trousers were impregnated with gray rock dust. Like an insect, she had taken on the color of the cliff she scaled. Sweat had plastered her brown hair to the top of her skull. Intricate knots and weavings confined the length of her hair, but the wind had picked loose a few strands of it, to spiderweb it across her eyes. She rubbed her narrow face against the gray rock. Her hands were occupied. Some long-ago cataclysm had riven this mountain, sending its green face sliding down into a heap of stone and earth at its base. Far above the woman the mountain still wore a cap of earth and greenery. But the woman climbed over bare shale. This morning she had stood in the tangled brush and young trees that sprouted from that long-ago landslide. She had peered up the slick black rock to a certain ledge more than three-quarters of the way up the mountain. She had measured herself against the task of reaching that ledge and found that it was hopeless. Then she had begun her climb. Now her left hand clung to a tiny ledge in the shale. She cautiously took some weight on it. The ledge cracked free, clean as if chiseled, and slid down the mountain face. Ki frantically scrabbled her hand into a
