Children of the Storm: An Amelia Peabody Novel of Suspense

From Publishers Weekly A fast-moving, intrigue-filled plot propels MWA Grand Master Peters's 15th novel (after 2002's The Golden One) to feature beloved archeologist and amateur sleuth Amelia Peabody Emerson. The end of WWI offers Amelia, now a grandmother, and her family little respite when mysterious events start to plague friends, allies and coworkers. One person dies after suddenly turning to religion, while others fall victim to sabotage. Valuable artifacts go missing, and Amelia's son Ramses is lured into a bizarre encounter with a woman who appears to be the living embodiment of the goddess Hathor. Given the growing unrest against British rule in Egypt, Amelia has to wonder if politics are behind the strange occurrences. In addition, the clan has made many enemies over the course of their adventures. While the preface does a good job of outlining the characters and their complicated connections, the previous 14 novels covered a lot of ground that new readers will find challenging to master. Nonetheless, this is an enjoyable read in its own right, powered by evocative depictions of 1919 Egypt and the engaging voice of Amelia herself-a bright, independent woman, who relishes her role as family matriarch. Her affectionate, give-and-take relationship with her Egyptologist husband, Emerson, continues to enchant.Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information, Inc. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. Elizabeth Peters earned her Ph.D. in Egyptology from the University of Chicago’s famed Oriental Institute. During her fifty-year career, she wrote more than seventy novels and three nonfiction books on Egypt. She received numerous writing awards and, in 2012, was given the first Amelia Peabody Award, created in her honor. She died in 2013, leaving a partially completed manuscript of The Painted Queen . --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. "Peters has always known how to romance us; but...she also proves herself a conscientious scholar." -- New York Times --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. From Booklist Egyptian nationalism is on the rise in the early twentieth century; Amelia Peabody Emerson and her volatile husband are grandparents; and a new season of archaeological exploration has begun in the Valley of Kings. This season promises to be special as the Emersons are looking forward to a reunion with extended family that will fill their lives to bursting. The joyous gathering is tempered, however, by some seemingly unrelated occurrences-a strange theft, son Ramses' kidnapping, the sabotage of a boat on which the family is traveling. Unfortunately, it takes the redoubtable Amelia an inordinately long time to figure things out, with excitement at a premium until the last few pages (though Amelia's brief masquerade as an Egyptian fisherman--complete with a patch on her eye--is almost worth the wait). Until then, Peters mostly tinkers with relationships among her large cast, many of whom play some role in unmasking the villains. Readers who enjoy this series for its crisp repartee and interpersonal dynamics will be sufficiently entertained; those who long for more old-fashioned heroics and adventure will have to wait for the next book. Stephanie Zvirin Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. From School Library Journal Adult/High School-World War I has ended and the Emerson family now includes several children of an entirely new generation. Everyone comes together in Egypt to work on the Emersons' newest dig. The adults are puzzled as strange, seemingly unrelated events occur: a theft, a murder, the appearance of a woman dressed as a goddess, the sinking of a boat, and attacks on a cousin. This complex series continues with witty dialogue, mysterious twists and turns, and delightful characters. A brief introduction summarizes relationships and provides a broad overview of the series, but it will serve best as a review for fans. Purchase where earlier titles have been popular. Claudia Moore, W. T. Woodson High School, Fairfax, VA Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information, Inc. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. From Library Journal The Great War is finally over, but if Amanda Peabody thinks that this year's excavations will be uneventful, she has something else coming. April 1 marks the one-day laydown. Copyright 2002 Reed Business Information, Inc. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Children of the Storm By Elizabeth Peters HarperAudio Copyright © 2003 Elizabeth PetersAll right reserved. ISBN: 9780060527846 Chapter One The encrimsoned sun sank slowly toward the crest of the Theban mountains. Another glorious Egyptian sunset burned against the horizon like fire in the heavens. In fact, I did not at that moment behold it, since I was facing east. I had seen hundreds of sunsets, however, and my excellent imagination supplied a suitable mental picture. As the sky over Luxor darkened, the shadows of the bars covering doors and windows lengthened and blurred, lying like a tiger's stripes across the two forms squatting on the floor. One of them said, "Spoceeva." "Russian," Ramses muttered. scribbling on his notepad. "Yesterday it was Amharic. The day before it sounded like -- " "Gibberish," said his wife. "No," Ramses insisted. "It has to mean something. They use root words from a dozen languages, and they obviously understand one another. See? He's nodding. They are standing up. They are going ... " His voice rose. "Leave the cat alone!" The Great Cat of Re, stretched out along the back of the settee behind him, rose in haste and climbed to the top of his head, from which position it launched itself onto a shelf. Ramses put his notepad aside and looked severely at the two figures who stood before him. "Die Katze ist ganzverboten. Kedi, hayir. Em nedjeroo pa meeoo." The Great Cat of Re grumbled in agreement. He had been a small, miserable-looking kitten when we acquired him, but Sennia had insisted on giving him that resounding appellation and, against all my expectations, he had grown into his name. His appearance was quite different fromthose of our other cats: longhaired, with an enormous plume of a tail, and a coat of spotted black on gray. With characteristic feline obstinacy he insisted on joining us for tea, though he knew he would have to go to some lengths to elude his juvenile admirers, who now burst into a melodious babble of protest, or, perhaps, explanation. "Darling, let's stick to one language, shall we?" Nefret said. She was smiling, but I thought there was a certain edge to her voice. "They'll never learn to talk if you address them in ancient Egyptian and Anglo-Saxon." "They know how to talk," Ramses said loudly, over the duet. "Recognizable human speech, however -- " "Say Papa," Nefret coaxed. She leaned forward. "Say it for Mama." "Bap," said the one whose eyes were the same shade of cornflower-blue. "Perverse little beggars," said Ramses. The other child climbed onto his knee and buried her head against his chest. I suspected she was trying to get closer to the cat, but she made an engaging picture as she clung to her father. They were affectionate little creatures, much given to hugging and kissing, especially of each other. "They're over two years old," Ramses went on, stroking the child's black curls. "I was speaking plainly long before that, wasn't I, Mother?" "Dear me, yes," I said, with a somewhat sickly smile. To be honest -- which I always endeavor to be in the pages of my private journal -- I dreaded the moment when the twins began to articulate. Once Ramses learned to talk plainly, he never stopped talking except to eat or sleep, for over fifteen years, and the prolixity and pedantry of hisspeech patterns were extremely trying to my nerves. The idea of not one but two children following in the paternal footsteps chilled my blood. Ever the optimist, I told myself there was no reason to anticipate such a disaster. The little dears might take after their mother, or me. "Children learn at different rates," I explained to my son. "And twins, according to the best authorities, are sometimes slower to speak because they communicate readily with one another." "And because they get everything they want without having to ask for it," Ramses muttered. The children obviously understood English, though they declined to speak it; his little daughter raised her head and fluttered her long lashes flirtatiously. He fluttered his lashes back at her. Charla giggled and gave him a hug. The question of suitable names had occupied us for months. I say "us," because I saw no reason why I should not offer a suggestion or two. (There is nothing wrong with making suggestions so long as the persons to whom they are offered are not obliged to accept them.) Not until the end of her pregnancy did I begin to suspect Nefret was carrying twins, but since we had already settled on names for a male or a female child, it worked out quite nicely. There was no debate about David John; no one quarreled with Ramses's desire to name his son after his best friend and his cousinwho had died in France in 1915. A girl's name was not so easy to find. Emerson declared (quite without malice, I am sure) that between our niece and myself there were already enough Amelias in the family. It was with some hesitation that I mentioned that my mother's name had been Charlotte, and I was secretlypleased when Nefret approved. "It is such a nice, ordinary name," she said. "Unlike Nefret," said her husband. "Or Ramses." She chuckled and patted his cheek. "Not that you could ever be anything else." Charla, as we called her, had the same curly black hair and dark eyes as her father. Her brother Davy, now perched on his mother's knee, was fair, with Nefret's blue eyes and Ramses's prominent nose and chin. They did not resemble each other except in height, and in their linguistic eccentricity. Davy was more easygoing than his sister, buthe had a well-nigh supernatural ability to disappear from one spot and materialize in another some distance away. The bars had been installed in all the rooms they were wont to inhabit, including the veranda, where we now sat waiting for Fatima to serve tea ... Continues... Excerpted from Children of the Storm by Elizabeth Peters Copyright © 2003 by Elizabeth Peters. Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site. --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition. The Great War has ended at last. No longer must archaeologist Amelia Peabody and her husband, Emerson, the distinguished Egyptologist, fear for the life of their daring son, Ramses, now free from his dangerous wartime obligations to British Intelligence. But in the aftermath of conflict, evil still casts a cold shadow over violence-scarred Egypt. The theft of valuable antiquities from the home of a friend causes great concern in the Emerson household. Ramses’s strange encounter with a woman costumed in the veil and gold crown of the goddess Hathor only deepens the mystery. And the brutal death of the suspected thief washes the unsettling affair in blood—setting Amelia on a terrifying collision course with an adversary more fiendish and formidable than any she has ever encountered. --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition. Read more