Parisien, Dominik (ed) - The Mythic Dream / Парисьен, Доминик (ред) - Мифический сон [2019, EPUB, ENG]

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Dominik Parisien & Navah Wolfe (ed) - The Mythic Dream

Название: The Mythic Dream / Мифический сон
Год выпуска: 2019
Под редакцией: Parisien, Dominik & Wolfe, Navah / Парисьен, Доминик & Вулф, Нава
Издательство: Saga Press
ISBN: 978-1-4814-6240-2
Формат: EPUB
Качество: eBook
Язык: английский

Мифы в пересказе современных писателей
Phantoms of the Midway short fiction by Seanan McGuire
The Justified novelette by Ann Leckie
Fisher-Bird short fiction by Ursula Vernon (as by T. Kingfisher)
A Brief Lesson in Native American Astronomy short story by Rebecca Roanhorse
Bridge of Crows short fiction by JY Yang
Labbatu Takes Command of the Flagship Heaven Dwells Within short fiction by Arkady Martine
Wild to Covet short fiction by Sarah Gailey
!Cuidado! !Que Vienne El Coco! short fiction by Carlos Hernandez
He Fell Howling short fiction by Stephen Graham Jones
Curses Like Words, Like Feathers, Like Stories short fiction by Kat Howard
Across the River short story by Leah Cypess
Sisyphus in Elysium short fiction by Jeffrey Ford
Kali_Na / Кали_на short fiction by Indrapramit Das
Live Stream short fiction by Alyssa Wong
Close Enough for Jazz short fiction by John Chu
Buried Deep short fiction by Naomi Novik
The Things Eric Eats Before He Eats Himself short fiction by Carmen Maria Machado
Florilegia; or, Some Lies About Flowers short fiction by Amal El-Mohtar


THE LIE MINOS TOLD, WHICH no one believed and no one was expected to believe, was that his youngest son had been shut up for the sake of the servants, whom he had begun brutalizing even as a babe. The lie everyone believed, and told in whispers, was that the queen had played the king false with a handsome guardsman, and he’d shut up the child to keep another man’s son from any chance of inheriting his throne.
But Ariadne had been five years old, herself a late and unexpected child, when her even more unexpected brother had begun to grow under Pasiphae’s heart, and she had been so very excited. Her other brothers were all grown men, big men, warriors; Minos’s bull-strong sons, the court called them, her father’s pride and irrelevant to her. Her sisters had been married off and gone before she was even born. And she had already been clever and good at creeping, so she’d been in the birthing room when the baby had come out bellowing, with the nubs of the horns still soft and rounded on his forehead, and her mother’s attendants had begun to scream.
Minos had all of them put to death, along with three particularly handsome guardsmen with fair hair, to start the second lie and keep the secret. His secret, not her mother’s. Everyone in all of Crete knew of the white bull the sea had sent him, and that Minos had bred it to his cattle instead of putting it to the knife the way the priests had wanted, but Ariadne and her mother knew more than that: they knew that Minos had asked for a sacrifice, one great enough to mark him for the throne over his brothers, and the god had sent the bull for that purpose, to be given back to him, not kept. So it was Minos’s fault, and not her mother’s, but Pasiphae had paid for it, and so had her women, and Ariadne’s little brother most of all.
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