Black Sun by Rebecca Roanhorse (English) Paperback Book

Description: Black Sun by Rebecca Roanhorse From the New York Times bestselling author of Star Wars: Resistance Reborn comes the "engrossing and vibrant" (Tochi Onyebuchi, author of Riot Baby) first book in the Between Earth and Sky trilogy inspired by the civilizations of the Pre-Columbian Americas and woven into a tale of celestial prophecies, political intrigue, and forbidden magic. A god will return When the earth and sky converge Under the black sun In the holy city of Tova, the winter solstice is usually a time for celebration and renewal, but this year it coincides with a solar eclipse, a rare celestial even proscribed by the Sun Priest as an unbalancing of the world. Meanwhile, a ship launches from a distant city bound for Tova and set to arrive on the solstice. The captain of the ship, Xiala, is a disgraced Teek whose song can calm the waters around her as easily as it can warp a mans mind. Her ship carries one passenger. Described as harmless, the passenger, Serapio is a young man, blind, scarred, and cloaked in destiny. As Xiala well knows, when a man is described as harmless, he usually ends up being a villain. Crafted with unforgettable characters, Rebecca Roanhorse has created a "brilliant world that shows the full panoply of human grace and depravity" (Ken Liu, award-winning author of The Grace of Kings). This epic adventure explores the decadence of power amidst the weight of history and the struggle of individuals swimming against the confines of society and their broken pasts in this "absolutely tremendous" (S.A. Chakraborty, nationally bestselling author of The City of Brass) and most original series debut of the decade. FORMAT Paperback LANGUAGE English CONDITION Brand New Author Biography Rebecca Roanhorse is the New York Times bestselling author of The Sixth World series and the Between Earth and Sky trilogy. She has won multiple awards for her fiction including the Nebula, Hugo, and Locus Awards. She has also written for Marvel and Lucasfilm, and for hit TV series including A Murder At the End of the World and Echo. She lives in New Mexico with her family. Excerpt from Book Chapter 1 CHAPTER 1 THE OBREGI MOUNTAINS YEAR 315 OF THE SUN (10 YEARS BEFORE CONVERGENCE) O Sun! You cast cruel shadow Black char for flesh, the tint of feathers Have you forsaken mercy? --From Collected Lamentations from the Night of Knives Today he would become a god. His mother had told him so. "Drink this," she said, handing him a cup. The cup was long and thin and filled with a pale creamy liquid. When he sniffed it, he smelled the orange flowers that grew in looping tendrils outside his window, the ones with the honey centers. But he also smelled the earthy sweetness of the bell-shaped flowers she cultivated in her courtyard garden, the one he was never allowed to play in. And he knew there were things he could not smell in the drink, secret things, things that came from the bag his mother wore around her neck, that whitened the tips of her fingers and his own tongue. "Drink it now, Serapio," she said, resting a hand briefly against his cheek. "Its better to drink it cold. And Ive put more sweet in it this time, so you can keep it down better." He flushed, embarrassed by her mention of his earlier vomiting. She had warned him to drink the mornings dose quickly, but he had been hesitant and sipped it instead, and he had heaved up some of the drink in a milky mess. He was determined to prove himself worthy this time, more than just a timid boy. He grasped the cup between shaking hands, and under his mothers watchful gaze, he brought it to his lips. The drink was bitter cold, and as she had promised, much sweeter than the mornings portion. "All of it," she chided as his throat protested and he started to lower the cup. "Else it wont be enough to numb the pain." He forced himself to swallow, tilting his head back to drain the vessel. His stomach protested, but he held it down. Ten seconds passed, and then another ten. He triumphantly handed the empty cup back. "My brave little godlet," she said, her lips curling into a smile that made him feel blessed. She set the cup on the nearby table next to the pile of cotton cords she would use later to tie him down. He glanced at the cords, and the bone needle and gut thread next to them. She would use that on him, too. Sweat dampened his hairline, slicking his dark curls to his head despite the chill that beset the room. He was brave, as brave as any twelve-year-old could be, but looking at the needle made him wish for the numbing poison to do its job as quickly as possible. His mother caught his worry and patted his shoulder reassuringly. "You make your ancestors proud, my son. Now... smile for me." He did, baring his teeth. She picked up a small clay bowl and dipped a finger in. It came out red. She motioned him closer. He leaned in so she could rub the dye across his teeth. It tasted like nothing, but part of his mind could not stop thinking about the insects he had watched his mother grind into the nut milk to make the dye. A single drop, like blood, fell on her lap. She frowned and scrubbed at it with the meat of her palm. She was wearing a simple black sheath that bared her strong brown arms, the hem long enough to brush the stone floor at their feet. Her waist-length black hair spilled loose down her back. Around her neck, a collar of crow feathers the shade of midnight, tips dyed as red as the paint on his teeth. "Your father thought he could forbid me to wear this," she said calmly enough, but the boy could hear the thread of pain in her voice, the places where deprivation and sorrow had left their cracks. "But your father doesnt understand that this is the way of my ancestors, and their ancestors before them. He cannot stop a Carrion Crow woman from dressing to honor the crow god, particularly on a day as sacred as today." "Hes afraid of it," the boy said, the words coming without thought. It must be the poison loosening his tongue. He would never have dared such words otherwise. His mother blinked, obviously surprised by his insight, and then she shrugged. "Perhaps," she agreed. "The Obregi fear many things they do not understand. Now, hold still until Im done." She worked quickly, coloring his teeth a deep carmine until it looked like blood filled his mouth. She smiled. Her teeth were the same. Father was right to fear her like this, the boy thought. She looked fierce, powerful. The handmaiden of a god. "How does your back feel?" she asked as she returned the bowl of dye to the table. "Fine," he lied. She had carved the haahan on his back earlier that day at dawn. Woken him from bed, fed him his first cup of numbing poison, and told him it was time. He had rolled dutifully onto his stomach, and she had begun. Shed used a special kind of blade he had never seen, thin and delicate and very sharp. She talked to him as she worked, telling him that if he had been with his clan, a beloved uncle or cousin would have carved his haahan over a series of months or even years, but there was no time left and it had to be her, today. Then she had told him tales of the great crow god as she cut curving lines--the suggestion of crow wings--across his shoulders and down his lateral muscles. It had burned like sticking his hand in the fire, perhaps because he hadnt drunk the full measure of the drink. But he had endured the pain with only a whimper. Next, she made him sit up and she had cut a crow skull at the base of his throat, beak extending down his chest, so it sat like a pendant in his skin. The pain was tenfold worse than the wings had been, and the only thing that had kept him from screaming was the fear that she might accidentally slice his throat if he moved too suddenly. He knew his mothers people carved their flesh as a symbol of their perpetual mourning for what was lost, and he was proud to bear the haahan, but tears still flowed down his cheeks. When she was done, she had taken in her handiwork with a critical eye. "Now they will recognize you when you go home, even if you do look too much Obregi." Her words stung, especially that she would say them even as she marked him. Not that he wasnt used to the observation, the teasing from other children that he looked not enough this or too much that. "Is Obregi bad?" he dared to ask, the poison still making him overbold. Obregi was certainly the only home he had ever known. He had always understood that his mother was the foreigner here; she came from a city called Tova that was far away and belonged to a people there who called themselves Carrion Crow. But his father was Obregi and a lord. This was his ancestral home they lived in, his familys land the workers tilled. The boy had even been given an Obregi name. He had also inherited the curling hair and slightly paler face of his fathers people, although his narrow eyes, wide mouth, and broad cheeks were his mothers. "No, son," she chided, "this life, this place"--she gestured around them, taking in the cool stone walls and the rich weavings that hung from them, the view of the snowy mountains outside, the entire nation of the Obregi--"was all to keep you safe until you could return to Tova." Safe from what? He wanted to ask, but instead he said, "When will that be?" She sighed and pressed her hands against her thighs. "I am no Watcher in the celestial tower," she said, shaking her head, "but I think it will not be so long now." "A month? A year?" he prodded. Not so long now could mean anything. "We are not forgotten," she assured him, her face softening. She brushed back an unruly lock that had fallen across his forehead. Her dark eyes brimmed with a love that warmed him from head to toe. She may look frightening to his father like this, but to him she was beautiful. Shadows moved across the floor, and she looked over her shoulder as the afternoon light turned strange. "Its time." She stood, her face flushed with excitement, and held out a hand. "Are you ready?" He was too old to hold her hand like a baby, but he was scared enough of what came next that he pressed his palm against hers and wrapped his fingers around tight, seeking comfort. She led him outside onto the stone terrace where the late-season winds chilled his bare skin. The view was a feast for the eye. From here they could see the valley, still clinging to the golds and crimsons of late fall. Beyond them squatted the high jagged mountains where the ice never melted. He had spent many afternoons here, watching hawks circle the village that sat just on the edge of the valley, dropping pebbles off the ledge to watch them shatter to dust on the rocky cliffs below. It was a place of fond memories, of good thoughts. "So cloudy," his mother fretted, her hand still wrapped around his, "but look, it changes even as we prepare." She beamed, showing her bloody teeth. She was right. He watched as the sky cleared to reveal a tattered sun, hunched like a dull watery ball atop the mountains. And to its side, a darkness loomed. The boys eyes widened in alarm. Mama had told him the crow god would come today, but he had not fathomed the horror of its visage. "Look at the sun, Serapio," she said, sounding breathless. "I need you to look at the sun." He did as he was told and watched with a growing terror as it began to disappear. "Mama?" he asked, alarmed, hating that his voice sounded high and frightened. "Dont look away!" she warned. He would not. He Details ISBN1534437681 Author Rebecca Roanhorse Series Between Earth and Sky Language English Year 2021 ISBN-10 1534437681 ISBN-13 9781534437685 Format Paperback DEWEY 813.6 Pages 496 UK Release Date 2021-06-29 Publication Date 2021-06-29 Audience General Publisher S&s/Saga Press Imprint S&s/Saga Press We've got this At The Nile, if you're looking for it, we've got it. With fast shipping, low prices, friendly service and well over a million items - you're bound to find what you want, at a price you'll love! TheNile_Item_ID:132295505;

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