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646 pages, Paperback
First published April 12, 2022
In all her twenty-two years, Lanie had mainly kept company with forty thousand skeletons (mostly furniture), a ghost (megalomaniacal), and a revenant housekeeper (seldom garrulous).
Love was the Dreamcalling, love the Great Wakening, love the foundation of the Maranathasseth Anthem. It was the finest of all reasons to live–and after death, to live again.
She wanted to eat everything and everyone right down to the bone and suck the marrow clean.
"I promised you an undead army," Lanie said in a stern voice. "Be content."
The cloak’s infinite but invisible train spilled down the sides of the tower in a cascade of interlocking bone and shell and chiton, in a hundred million fossilized leaves from trees that the planet Athe knew only in its youngest days, in chains of long-extinct insects trapped in amber, in festoons of fangs that once had studded the jaws of leviathans, in the lacework of the claws of dragons—or things out of which dragons were dreamed; in the beads of embryos that had died when they were yet too tiny to be detected by the naked eye … it fell, and though no one alive could hear it, it clicked and clacked and creaked like winter branches in a winter wind. It dragged the city streets and sank beneath the stones and trawled the catacombs below.
“When people gather in great numbers, holding festivals across the land to celebrate the gods, the gods can’t help but hear us all. They hear and remember Their creations. Their attention brightens on us, even as our attention summons Them nearer, and, and…” …
Tan finished for her “… and all creation grows more marvelous with the All-Marvel. And thus, the magic surges for all true believers, for magic is the memory of the gods.”
Haaken’s was not a warmth like Duantri’s, nor was there in him much evidence of the tenderness Mak was capable of. Haaken was more like Tan, with her beacon-black eyes that shone their penetrating lights on everyone with equal curiosity. Or like Havoc, ready with her wry smile and dry wit and her life’s load of hard-bought wisdom. Or like Canon Lir, who, when you stood in front of them, no matter how you babbled, listened as if you were the only person in all of Athe.