Adams, John Joseph (ed) - Epic: Legends of Fantasy / Адамс, Джон Джозеф (ред) - Эпичное: Легенды фэнтези [2012, EPUB, ENG]

Homecoming / Возвращение домой novella by Robin Hobb The Word of Unbinding / Слово освобождения short story by Ursula K. Le Guin The Burning Man / Явившийся в пламени novelette by Tad Williams As the Wheel Turns short story by Aliette de Bodard The Alchemist / Алхимик novella by Paolo Bacigalupi Sandmagic / Песчаная магия novelette by Orson Scott Card The Road to Levinshir novelette by Patrick Rothfuss Rysn short story by Brandon Sanderson While the Gods Laugh / Когда боги смеются novelette by Michael Moorcock Mother of All Russiya short story by Melanie Rawn Riding the Shore of the River of Death short fiction by Kate Elliott Bound Man novelette by Mary Robinette Kowal The Narcomancer novelette by N. K. Jemisin Strife Lingers in Memory short story by Carrie Vaughn The Mad Apprentice novelette by Trudi Canavan Otherling novelette by Juliet Marillier The Mystery Knight / Таинственный рыцарь novella by George R. R. Martin

It’s difficult to sell your last bed to a neighbor. More difficult still when your only child clings like a spider monkey to its frame, and screams as if you were chopping off her arms with an axe every time you try to remove her. The four men from Alacan had already arrived, hungry and happy to make copper from the use of their muscles, and Lizca Sharma was there as well, her skirts glittering with diamond wealth, there to supervise the four-poster’s removal and make sure it wasn’t damaged in the transfer. The bed was a massive piece of furniture. For a child, ridiculous. Jiala’s small limbs had no need to sprawl across such a vast expanse. But the frame had been carved with images of the floating palaces of Jhandpara. Cloud dragons of old twined up its posts to the canopy where wooden claws clutched rolled nets and, with a clever copper clasp, opened on hinges to let the nets come tumbling down during the hot times to keep out mosquitoes. A beautiful bed. A fanciful bed. Imbued with the vitality of Jhandpara’s lost glory. An antique made of kestrel-wood—that fine red grain so long choked under bramble—and triply valuable because of it. We would eat for months on its sale. . . .