Dozois, Gardner (ed.) - The Book of Swords / Дозуа, Гарднер (ред.) - Книга Мечей [2017, EPUB, ENG]

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Gardner Dozois (ed.) - The Book of Swords

Название: The Book of Swords / Книга Мечей
Год выпуска: 2017
Под редакцией: Dozois, Gardner / Дозуа, Гарднер
Издательство: Bantam Books
eISBN: 9780399593772
Формат: EPUB
Качество: eBook
Язык: английский

Новая антология Гарднера Дозуа посвящена неоднократно хоронимому, но каждый раз оживающему "поджанру" фэнтези - Sword & Sorcery (Мечи и Магия). Все рассказы - новые: 2017 год.
Introduction by Gardner Dozois
The Best Man Wins by Tom Holt
Her Father's Sword by Robin Hobb
The Hidden Girl by Ken Liu
The Sword of Destiny by Matthew Hughes
"I Am a Handsome Man," said Apollo Crow by Kate Elliott
The Triumph of Virtue by Walter Jon Williams
The Mocking Tower by Daniel Abraham
Hrunting by C. J. Cherryh
A Long, Cold Trail by Garth Nix
When I Was a Highwayman by Ellen Kushner
The Smoke of Gold Is Glory by Scott Lynch
The Colgrid Conundrum by Rich Larson
The King's Evil by Elizabeth Bear
Waterfalling by Lavie Tidhar
The Sword Tyraste by Cecelia Holland
The Sons of the Dragon by George R. R. Martin
The Hidden Girl

Ken Liu

Beginning in the eighth century, the Imperial court of Tang Dynasty China increasingly relied on military governors—the jiedushi—whose responsibilities began with border defense but gradually encompassed taxation, civil administration, and other aspects of political power. They were, in fact, independent feudal warlords whose accountability to Imperial authority was nominal.
Rivalry among the governors was often violent and bloody.

On the morning after my tenth birthday, spring sunlight dapples the stone slabs of the road in front of our house through the blooming branches of the pagoda tree. I climb out onto the thick bough pointing west like an immortal’s arm and reach for a strand of yellow flowers, anticipating the sweet taste tinged with a touch of bitterness.
“Alms, young mistress?”
I look down and see a bhikkhuni. I can’t tell how old she is—her face is unlined but there is a fortitude in her dark eyes that reminds me of my grandmother. The light fuzz over her shaved head glows in the warm sun like a halo, and her grey kasaya is clean but tattered at the hem. She holds up a wooden bowl in her left hand, gazing up at me expectantly.
“Would you like some pagoda-tree flowers?” I ask.
She smiles. “I haven’t had any since I was a young girl. It would be a delight.”
“If you stand below me, I’ll drop some into your bowl,” I say, reaching for the silk pouch on my back.
She shakes her head. “I can’t eat flowers that have been touched by another hand—too infected with the mundane concerns of this dusty world.”
“Then climb up yourself,” I say. Immediately I feel ashamed at my annoyance.
“If I get them myself, they wouldn’t be alms, now would they?” There’s a hint of laughter in her voice.
. . .
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