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Maar de informatie in zijn Nagelaten Vertellingen biedt de Godkeizer van het naargeestige Kadish een unieke kans. Met de kennis uit de geschriften van Marak is het namelijk mogelijk de almachtig makende Achtste Rune te ontsluiten, en dan zal de meedogenloze heerser onoverwinnelijk zijn.

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Een jonge runenpriester en een zwaardmeester krijgen opdracht het boek voor hem in Carolia te stelen Zo begint dit wervelende fantasy-avontuur, waarin Adrian Stone zijn visie geeft op levensbepalende aspecten die van alle tijden zijn: macht en machtsmisbruik, discriminatie, mondiale harmonie en hoe die te bereiken.

De moraal van dit tweeluik: honger naar absolute macht keert zich onherroepelijk tegen de persoon in kwestie. Get A Copy. Paperback , pages. Published June 5th by Luitingh first published January 1st More Details Friend Reviews. To see what your friends thought of this book, please sign up. Lists with This Book.

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This book is not yet featured on Listopia. Community Reviews. Showing Rating details. More filters. Sort order. May 30, Eric rated it it was amazing. Het vervolg op de duivelstrilogie. I still today see Hans standing there with his friendly laugh across his young radiant face. Always perky and with an enormous vocabulary, he reveals himself as the organiser of the department of Rest and Recreation, simply referred to as R and R.

He is the leader of a cabaret ensemble which he himself has established and for which he is now looking for new artistic talent who can, from time to time, provide entertainment for the upliftment of the soldiers in the camp. Within fourteen days, he wants to give a performance in the canteen. I want to find out a little more and initiate a conversation.

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I introduce myself and tell him about my experience in the area of theatre, music and painting. I inform him that, besides the drawing pen and paint brush, I can also play the piano. We get on exceptionally well with one another and together finally compile a rendition that is worth listening to.

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During the rehearsals, Hans proves himself to be an outstanding entertainer and not to a lesser extent, a clear lyrical tenor. A good music connoisseur would however concede that he needs more training under expert guidance. This will keep the men busy and consolidate their friendships. The first performance will take place on the day before Christmas to be repeated by a further performance the following day.

In the open yard next to the canteen we build a small stage wide enough for eight men. It does not require much effort to make a draw curtain in front, a plain decoration behind and a couple of side pieces to the left and right, behind which we can hide away when needed. For the theatre, we borrow chairs and benches from the canteen and arrange them neatly together with extra chairs and benches from the hospital. It is of no importance to describe the program comprehensively.

What I do know is that Hans received the resounding success he justly deserved. It was His manner of performance, the fluency with which he delivers his jokes, his witticism as well as his song repertoire are all a joy to behold. There is however one thing for which I do not have an answer. These are two extremely different dialects. Nevertheless, he is a fine chap, a little boorish in his manner of speech but nevertheless a grounded guy.

He is best described as a sensitive person. He is someone who listens and tries to understand you and is not insensitive to comments that one makes. He seeks contact with the outside world, a world he desires to inhabit in the way he chooses. Domestic circumstances forced him to enroll for six years in the Royal Dutch-Indonesian Army.

Sometimes I can read the expression on his face of how much regret he has about this enrolment.

In his heart he is not a soldier. Out of necessity this is now what he has to be.

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Shall I just let him go on his way to choose his own path? Or will I extend to him the hand of friendship and help him to keep his head above the muddy waters? Military life as a whole is for him one great pool of mud through which he must somehow traverse at whatever cost.

Cheerful by nature, he seeks distraction by choosing to recite and sing and tell jokes which he mostly thought up himself. I have decided I will help him. We will become friends. The future will determine whether I manage this in the right way. The first day of Christmas passes with fitting conviviality and piety. First there is the open-air assembly where our field chaplain opens with a prayer followed by a simple and comprehensible sermon presented in Dutch.

He has linked the birth of Christ with the events of today. He has given us consolation and strength and above all placed emphasis on camaraderie. The natural enmity between civilian and military is now a thing of the past.

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  7. It is time that we find each other and support each other in the difficult circumstances in which we will soon find ourselves. We listen attentively to his riveting sermon. After this remarkable and interesting open-air exercise in worship, we disperse, each of us to his own barrack. The rest of the day passes by, just as the previous days. There is not a lot of difference between a Sunday and a weekday. The Sergeant informs me that tomorrow, I must report for twenty-four-hour guard duty at the telephone exchange. That night I retire early to my bunk.

    I quickly take a cold bath and put on my uniform. Breakfast has in the meantime arrived by train and is at this moment being placed on the table in large baskets covered with mosquito nets. The enormous tea urn is at the other side of the long table. Millions of blue horse flies cover the table like a deep blue-black sheet, glistening in the early morning sun that has grabbed its chance to peek diagonally across our table through an opening in the leaves of the canopy above.

    When someone takes his seat at the table, they fly up with a loud buzzing, only to descend again a short while later. It is absolutely impossible to quietly enjoy breakfast. I must continuously swing my arms around before I dare take a mouthful. The buzzing mopeds crawl across my nose and lip, leering with greedy eyes at the round bread roll with cheese that I hold in my one hand, ready to take a dive.

    But for that they do not get a chance. Whilst swinging my arms, I quickly take a bite. I cover my mug of tea with a handkerchief as protection.

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    In the interim it is not possible to have a drink because then one or two of these flies will find themselves swimming in my tea. It is better to eat first, then drink the tea. As the day comes to an end it is time for the flies to sleep. Then it is the turn of the mosquitoes to take over. By their millions they come out of their hiding places in the trees to descend upon us, sting, suck our blood and further make life for us as unbearable as possible.