The Magician
Autor Michael Scotten Limba Engleză Paperback – 31 mar 2009 – vârsta de la 12 ani
Copiii care au iubit The Alchemyst vor găsi aici aceeași amestec de istorie vie și magie periculoasă, însă într-un context mult mai alert, mutat pe străzile Parisului. Subliniem modul în care Michael Scott reușește să transforme figurile istorice în personaje de o vitalitate uluitoare; în acest volum, îl întâlnim pe celebrul Niccolò Machiavelli, prezentat nu doar ca scriitor, ci ca un nemuritor periculos care lucrează pentru Dr. John Dee. Notăm cu interes cum autorul ridică miza emoțională: Nicholas și Perenell Flamel îmbătrânesc vizibil cu fiecare zi în care nu recuperează paginile lipsă din Cartea lui Avraam Magul, transformând cursa împotriva timpului într-o luptă pentru supraviețuire biologică. Reținem evoluția gemenilor Josh și Sophie Newman, a căror legătură începe să se fisureze sub presiunea puterilor nou descoperite și a manipulărilor externe. Spre deosebire de atmosfera din The Witch Hunt, unde magia are o nuanță mai intimă și academică, aici avem de-a face cu o desfășurare de forțe care amenință echilibrul lumii întregi. Tonul este unul de aventură clasică, dar structura narativă este impecabil construită, oferind revelații bine dozate care îi vor ține pe tinerii cititori implicați. În contextul seriei The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel, acest al doilea volum acționează ca un catalizator, transformând curiozitatea inițială într-o necesitate de a înțelege destinul celor doi frați, pe măsură ce aceștia devin singura speranță a lumii în fața întunericului.
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Specificații
ISBN-10: 0385737289
Pagini: 464
Dimensiuni: 133 x 203 x 32 mm
Greutate: 0.36 kg
Ediția:Reprint
Editura: Random House LLC US
Colecția Ember
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De ce să citești această carte
Recomandăm această carte părinților care caută o lectură captivantă pentru adolescenți, capabilă să stârnească interesul pentru istorie și mitologie. Cititorul câștigă o perspectivă fascinantă asupra unor figuri precum Machiavelli, totul într-un ritm alert de aventură. Este o alegere ideală pentru fanii genului fantasy care apreciază sistemele de magie bine fundamentate și dilemele morale complexe între frați, oferind o alternativă solidă la marile serii clasice de gen.
Despre autor
Michael Scott este un autor irlandez de renume, recunoscut la nivel internațional pentru măiestria cu care împletește mitologia, folclorul și istoria în narațiuni contemporane pentru tineri. În cadrul seriei The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel, el demonstrează o erudiție remarcabilă, aducând în prezent figuri legendare precum Nicholas Flamel sau Machiavelli. Stilul său se caracterizează printr-un ritm cinematografic și o documentare riguroasă, elemente care l-au propulsat constant în topurile New York Times și i-au adus recunoașterea criticilor din publicații precum Kirkus Reviews și Booklist.
Notă biografică
Extras
The charity auction hadn’t started until well after midnight, when the gala dinner had ended. It was almost four in the morning and the auction was only now drawing to a close. A digital display behind the celebrity auctioneer—an actor who had played James Bond on-screen for many years—showed the running total at more than one million euro.
“Lot number two hundred and ten: a pair of early- nineteenth-century Japanese Kabuki masks.”
A ripple of excitement ran through the crowded room. Inlaid with chips of solid jade, the Kabuki masks were the highlight of the auction and were expected to fetch in excess of half a million euro.
At the back of the room the tall, thin man with the fuzz of close-cropped snow white hair was prepared to pay twice that.
Niccolò Machiavelli stood apart from the rest of the crowd, arms lightly folded across his chest, careful not to wrinkle his Savile Row–tailored black silk tuxedo. Stone gray eyes swept over the other bidders, analyzing and assessing them. There were really only five others he needed to look out for: two private collectors like himself, a minor European royal, a once-famous American movie actor and a Canadian antiques dealer. The remainder of the audience were tired, had spent their budget or were unwilling to bid on the vaguely disturbing-looking masks.
Machiavelli loved all types of masks. He had been collecting them for a very long time, and he wanted this particular pair to complete his collection of Japanese theater costumes. These masks had last come up for sale in 1898 in Vienna, and he had then been outbid by a Romanov prince. Machiavelli had patiently bided his time; the masks would come back on the market again when the Prince and his descendents died. Machiavelli knew he would still be around to buy them; it was one of the many advantages of being immortal.
“Shall we start the bidding at one hundred thousand euro?”
Machiavelli looked up, caught the auctioneer’s attention and nodded.
The auctioneer had been expecting his bid and nodded in return. “I am bid one hundred thousand euro by Monsieur Machiavelli. Always one of this charity’s most generous supporters and sponsors.”
A smattering of applause ran around the room, and several people turned to look at him and raise their glasses. Niccolò acknowledged them with a polite smile.
“Do I have one hundred and ten?” the auctioneer asked.
One of the private collectors raised his hand slightly.
“One-twenty?” The auctioneer looked back to Machiavelli, who immediately nodded.
Within the next three minutes, a flurry of bids brought the price up to two hundred and fifty thousand euro. There were only three serious bidders left: Machiavelli, the American actor and the Canadian.
Machiavelli’s thin lips twisted into a rare smile; his patience was about to be rewarded, and finally the masks would be his. Then the smile faded as he felt the cell phone in his back pocket buzz silently. For an instant he was tempted to ignore it; he’d given his staff strict instructions that he was not to be disturbed unless it was absolutely critical. He also knew they were so terrified of him that they would not phone unless it was an emergency. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the ultraslim phone and glanced down.
A picture of a sword pulsed gently on the large LCD screen.
Machiavelli’s smile vanished. In that second he knew he was not going to be able to buy the Kabuki masks this century. Turning on his heel, he strode out of the room and pressed the phone to his ear. Behind him, he could hear the auctioneer’s hammer hit the lectern “Sold. For two hundred and sixty thousand euro . . .”
“I’m here,” Machiavelli said, reverting to the Italian of his youth.
The line crackled and an English-accented voice responded in the same language, using a dialect that had not been heard in Europe for more than four hundred years. “I need your help.”
The man on the other end of the line didn’t identify himself, nor did he need to; Machiavelli knew it was the immortal magician and necromancer Dr. John Dee, one of the most powerful and dangerous men in the world.
Niccolò Machiavelli strode out of the small hotel into the broad cobbled square of the Place du Tertre and stopped to breathe in the chill night air. “What can I do for you?” he asked cautiously. He detested Dee and knew the feeling was mutual, but they both served the Dark Elders, and that meant they had been forced to work together down through the centuries. Machiavelli was also slightly envious that Dee was younger than he—and looked it. Machiavelli had been born in Florence in 1469, which made him fifty-eight years older than the English Magician. History recorded that he had died in the same year that Dee had been born, 1527.
“Flamel is back in Paris.”
Machiavelli straightened. “When?”
“Just now. He got there through a leygate. I’ve no idea where it comes out. He’s got Scathach with him. . . .”
Machiavelli’s lips curled into an ugly grimace. The last time he’d encountered the Warrior, she’d pushed him through a door. It had been closed at the time, and he’d spent weeks picking splinters from his chest and shoulders.
“There are two humani children with him. Americans,” Dee said, his voice echoing and fading on the transatlantic line. “Twins,” he added.
“Say again?” Machiavelli asked.
“Twins,” Dee added, “with pure gold and silver auras. You know what that means,” he snapped.
“Yes,” Machiavelli muttered. It meant trouble. Then the tiniest of smiles curled his thin lips. It could also mean opportunity.
Static crackled and then Dee’s voice continued. “The girl’s powers were Awakened by Hekate before the Goddess and her Shadowrealm were destroyed.”
“Untrained, the girl is no threat,” Machiavelli murmured, quickly assessing the situation. He took a breath and added, “Except perhaps to herself and those around her.”
“Flamel took the girl to Ojai. There, the Witch of Endor instructed her in the Magic of Air.”
“No doubt you tried to stop them?” There was a hint of amusement in Machiavelli’s voice.
“Tried. And failed,” Dee admitted bitterly. “The girl has some knowledge but is without skill.”
“What do you want me to do?” Machiavelli asked carefully, although he already had a very good idea.
“Find Flamel and the twins,” Dee demanded. “Capture them. Kill Scathach if you can. I’m just leaving Ojai. But it’s going to take me fourteen or fifteen hours to get to Paris.”
“What happened to the leygate?” Machiavelli wondered aloud. If a leygate connected Ojai and Paris, then why didn’t Dee . . . ?
“Destroyed by the Witch of Endor,” Dee raged, “and she nearly killed me, too. I was lucky to escape with a few cuts and scratches,” he added, and then ended the call without saying good-bye.
Niccolò Machiavelli closed his phone carefully and tapped it against his bottom lip. Somehow he doubted that Dee had been lucky—if the Witch of Endor had wanted him dead, then even the legendary Dr. Dee would not have escaped. Machiavelli turned and walked across the square to where his driver was patiently waiting with the car. If Flamel, Scathach and the American twins had come to Paris via a leygate, then there were only a few places in the city where they could have emerged. It should be relatively easy to find and capture them.
And if he could capture them tonight, then he would have plenty of time to work on them before Dee arrived.
Machiavelli smiled; he’d only need a few hours, and in that time they would tell him everything they knew. Half a millennium on this earth had taught him how to be very persuasive indeed.
From the Hardcover edition.
Descriere scurtă
In the second book in the New York Times bestselling series, Nicholas, Sophie, Josh, and Scatty emerge in Paris, the City of Light, home to Nicholas Flamel. Only this homecoming is anything but sweet. Niccolò Machiavelli, immortal author and celebrated art collector, lives in Paris and is working for Dr. John Dee. He’s in hot pursuit, and time is running out for Nicholas and Perenell. Josh and Sophie Newman are the world’s only hope. . . . If they don’t turn on each other first.
★ “Readers will be swept up.”—Kirkus Reviews, Starred
“An exciting and impeccably thought-out fantasy, well-suited for those left in the lurch by Harry Potter’s recent exeunt.”—Booklist
“Fans . . . will certainly find much to love, root for, and fear in this successful second installment.”—School Library Journal
Recenzii
“Readers will be swept up by a plot that moves smartly along, leaving a wide trail of destruction and well-timed revelations.”
Review, Booklist:
“An exciting and impeccably thought-out fantasy, well-suited for those left in the lurch by Harry Potter’s recent exeunt.”
Review, School Library Journal:
“Fans . . . will certainly find much to love, root for, and fear in this successful second installment.”