By Mayer Alan Brenner
Welcome to the Dance of Gods!In an international of magic, the place desktops and nanotechnology are gone, the place inconsiderate gods fight for strength with little regard for these lower than, one unfortunate guy needs to make a few difficult judgements ...Maximillian the Vaguely Disreputable isn’t yes what’s occurring within the village of Roosing Oolvaya. Someone--probably a god--has trapped Max’s good friend the nice Karlini in a fort that retains attempting to circulation on the so much inconvenient instances, and of course it’s as much as Max to determine easy methods to spring him. however the gods throwing their weight round in Roosing Oolvaya are greater than Max bargained for, and shortly he’s stuck among necromancers, operating with a detective named The Creeping Sword, or even dancing with dying itself in a determined try to keep the town from catastrophe.“Three separate traces of motion have interaction disparate characters in a race to converge ultimately in an incredible blast of motion ... leaving the reader breathless yet satisfied.” --Kliatt
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Extra info for Catastrophe's Spell (The Dance of Gods #1)
That was the field spell on the walls of the castle. ” Ronibet asked. “Well,” Max said, swallowing a chunk of hard candy from a large bowl seated next to him on the floor, “that’s the second quantum level for you. Things are pretty strange there. ” Roni said. “Yeah. That’s the power reservoir. ” Max selected another candy, a blue one, popped it in his mouth, and started to suck on it. “There’s a lot going on in the reservoir, but I couldn’t disentangle it all. One thing I did see was that the thing’s on a deadman trigger.
Shaa peered over the rim of his own mug, sniffed. “You have a point. ” Mont’s face tightened and turned a sudden white. ” Shaa looked up at the ceiling, silently asking the universe if it knew quite what it was doing this time. “Look, my putative friend, I have much of value to offer, and I am offering it, provisionally, for free, so if you would please stop trying to find -” Jurtan Mont swung his mug and tossed the contents at Shaa’s face. Shaa, demonstrating a level of agility not expected from his generally stocky frame, flipped himself off the bench, did a backward somersault, and fetched up with his neck wedged against the bar, avoiding most of the flying ale.
He put an arm around the boy’s shoulders, lifted him partly off the ground, and started toward the Bilious Gnome. A hand reached in from the side and closed on the front of Shaa’s cloak. “Not so fast, huh,” said the whiskered sailor, his voice muffled by the underbrush covering his face. ” “My apologies,” Shaa said. ” The sailor looked suspiciously at them. ” “There are many plagues,” Shaa said. ” The sailor looked at the young woman, then straightened himself and stuck out his chin. “Plague or no plague, what I go to do, I should take yer face and -” Shaa looked at the young woman himself and raised his eyebrow suggestively.