Register in the Forums to become a member and enjoy the enhanced features only available to registered members:. Tag the C. If you are ready to submit a review click the book cover to go to the novel page. Hugo Award winning and Nebula Award nominated short story. Wollheim and Arthur W. Cherryh It was that transitional time of the world, when man first brought the clang of iron and the reek of smoke to the lands which before had echoed with inhuman voices.
In that dawn of man and death of magic there yet remained one last untouched place--the small forest of Ealdwood--which kept a time different from elsewhere, and one who dwelt there who had more patience, pride and love of the earth than any other of her kind--Arfel the Sidhe. This is the story of the last defense of Faery against the encroaching iron sword of the Era of Man. A curse, a sin, and a dark bargain with the Sidhe had condemned Caith mac Sliabhan to wander the wild woods, outcast from all humankind.
Only Dubhain--a pooka, a Sidhe sprite--was his companion. Caith now was bound to do the will of the Sidhe, always fearing that his own taint would somehow make him cause pain and sorrow to others But even an outcast like Caith could not resist taking refuge in a forest cabin, where two mysterious golden youths, a boy and girl, dwelled. The mysterious couple were under a spell themselves--and despite his curse, Caith felt compelled to aid them.
Caith soon fell into a dark adventure that led him and the Sidhe into the evil hands of the notorious witch of Dun Glas. WFA nominated novelette. An early Cherryh novel about colonists on an alien world and their interactions with the catlike natives, centering on a young engineer sent to solve the colonists' problems, and his relationship with one of the natives. Major themes in this novel include sexual liberation, sexual aberration, hypocrisy of social mores, and responsibility toward indigenous peoples. Set in a forbidden star system featuring a terrifying race of ant-like aliens, this is the story of Raen, the last of the massacred Sul family, and her lifetime pledge to vengeance.
Humankind has now conquered the stars and left the once-mighty cities of Earth to confront their destinies - and possible extinction - alone. Things weren't right in the little kingdom of Maggiar, not right at all. So the princes Bogdan and Tamas set off to seek an answer to the kingdom's troubles in the land over-mountain, a world they knew only from legends.
And Yuri, the youngest prince, chafing at being left behind, soon followed them But the land over-mountain was in turmoil, for the goblins had declared war. The kingdoms the princes had come to find had all been ravaged. No sooner had the brothers crossed out of Maggiar than their party was ambushed. Bogdan was carried away to the fortress of the goblin queen herself. Yuri wandered lost through an evil wood, in search of his brothers.
And Tamas was caught up in darkest sorcery, for he fell in with Ela, a witch's apprentice Ela possessed a shard of the goblin queen's magic mirror. With that single sliver of the queen's great power, she planned to challenge the goblin queen herself. And Tamas would be the focus of her battle This short story originally appeared in the collection Sunfall and was reprinted in Lightspeed , April Read the full story for free at Lightspeed.
The Lord Saukendar, Imperial sword master and stalwart supporter of the Emperor is betrayed, falsely accused of an affair with his childhood sweetheart Lady Meiya, now the Emperor's wife. Meiya is dead, and hostile forces have command of the Emperor's regency. Wounded, desperate and cut off from his supporters, Saukendar runs for the border. In a homemade cabin high in the hills Saukendar survives crippled and alone, his warhorse Jiro and his regrets his only company, while the empire is bled by the rapacious warlords that are regent to the Emperor.
Only occasional assassins dispatched by the Regent disturb his morose existence. Taizu, a country girl from Hua locates him, demands he teach her sufficient swordsmanship to extract her revenge for her people's suffering. Despite his better judgment and strenuous efforts to discourage her, she forces him to take her on as apprentice swordswoman. Shoka, as he prefers to be known to his friends, becomes fond of the girl. In the process of teaching her and supporting her cause, they become embroiled in the affairs of empire, becoming the spearhead of a revolt that rescues the Emperor from his Regent and his people from the clutches of the warlords.
Nebula Award nominated novella. It originally appeared in the anthology Alien Stars , edited by Elizabeth Mitchell. Freedom was an isolated planet, off the spaceways track and rarely visited by commercial spacers. It wasn't that Freedom was inhospitable as planets go. The problem was that outsiders--tourists and traders--claimed the streets were crowded with mysterious characters in blue robes and with members of an alien species. Native-born humans, however, said that was not the case. There were no such blue-robes and no aliens.
Such was the viewpoint of both Herrin the artist and Waden the autocrat--until a crisis of planetary identity forced a life-and-death confrontation between the question of reality and the reality of the question Age of Exploration : Book 1. Age of Exploration : Book 2. Rafe Murray, his sister Jillian, and Jillian's husband Paul Gaines, like many other out-of-luck spacers, had come to newly-built Endeavor Station to find their future.
Their tiny ship, Lindy, had been salvaged from the junk heap, and fitted to mine ore from the mineral-rich rings which circled Endeavor. But their future proved to be far stranger than any of them imagined, when a "collision" with a huge alien vessel provided them with the oddest first contact experience possible! Age of Exploration : Book 3. They named him Thorn.
They told him he was of their people, although he was so different. He was ugly in their eyes, strange, sleek-skinned instead of furred, clawless, different. Yet he was of their power class: judge-warriors, the elite, the fighters, the defenders. Thorn knew that his difference was somehow very important -- but not important enough to prevent murderous conspiracies against him, against his protector, against his caste, and perhaps against the peace of the world. But when the crunch came, when Thorn finally learned what his true role in life was to be, that on him might hang the future of two worlds, then he had to stand alone to justify his very existence.
Allliance-Union: Company Wars : Book 1. Bird and Ben are free-runners, prowling the asteroid belt for that one major strike that will make them rich. When they come across another free-runner ship, adrift and inhabited by a half-crazy spacer named Dekker, they decide to tow him in and claim his ship for salvage. Then the body of Dekker's partner is discovered, and Bird and Ben find more than their livelihood is in danger. Allliance-Union: Company Wars : Book 2. Ben Pollard thinks he's traded the perils of the Belt for security as an Earth-based computer jockey for United Defence Command.
Then he's forced to perform a mission of mercy - and lands on an isolated, intrigue-riddled space station. In Hellburner, her newest novel, Hugo Award winner C. Cherryh returns to the best-selling universe of Heavy Time, Cyteen, and Downbelow Station, and creates a story of multi-global conspiracy, power politics, and military in-fighting. Here the stakes are nothing less than the future of humanity. He's been named next-of-kin to a man he never wanted to even see again: Paul Dekker, a young pilot who attracts crises like dead flesh draws flies.
The centerpiece of a top-secret war project, Dekker has just lost his entire crew in a mysterious freak accident and lost his mind to amnesia from an attempted suicide. Or attempted murder. Together they had once smashed the criminal cover-ups of a mining cartel. In this subtle, dark contest with mysteries that deepen by the hour and rules that change without warning, Pollard, Kady, Aboujib and Dekker must survive kidnapping, sabotage, ambush, riots, kangaroo courts, conspiracy, and treason - only to become lab animalsin the frontline of an endless war for humanity's soul.
The two couples are being programmed to crew an experimental deathship no one has been able to control. And to escape the quagmire of manipulation, Pollard and his companions must master and wield the awesome power of - Hel. Allliance-Union: Company Wars : Book 3. Pell's Station, orbiting the alien world simply called Downbelow, had always managed to remain neutral in the ever escalating conflict between "The Company," whose fleets from Earth had colonized space, and its increasingly independent and rebellious colony worlds.
But Pell's location--on the outer edge of Earth's defensive perimeter-- makes her the focal point in the titanic battle of colony worlds fighting for independence Allliance-Union: Company Wars : Book 4. The fateful meeting between the owner of a tramp star-freighter that flies the Union planets under false papers and fake names and a proud but junior member of a powerful starship-owning family leads to a record-breaking race to Downbelow Station--and a terrifying showdown at a deadly destination off the cosmic charts.
Allliance-Union: Company Wars : Book 5. She is jobless, homeless and starving. Once a marine, she enlists on the first ship that docks, only to find it crewed by her sworn enemies whose mission is to hunt down the fleet Bet has spent her life serving. Allliance-Union: Company Wars : Book 6. A social outcast, Thomas Bowe is caught between the rivalry of two merchant spaceships, one headed by his father and one by the woman whom his father had raped long ago. Allliance-Union: Company Wars : Book 7. With a truce declared between the major powers, war hero Captain James Robert Neihart returns to the Alliance station of Pell to reclaim one of the Merchanters' own.
During the Company Wars, Finity's End had to leave a pregnant crew member on Pell and was unable to retrieve her orphaned son. The Neiharts want their lost cousin back out of love, but also because the war has cost Finity's End a generation. No babies have been born, while half the crew--half the family--are dead, making the prodigal youth even more precious. But Fletcher Neihart has left Pell for the planet Downbelow where, after a childhood spent in uncaring foster homes, he's found happiness working with the hisa--Downbelow's mystic, peaceful natives.
He even has a beautiful girlfriend. The last thing he wants is to be dragged into space. He has no choice. Fletcher is reunited with a home he's never seen. From having no family, he's now surrounded by kinfolk--all battle-scarred strangers more alien than the non-human hisa. Like Jeremy, the hero-worshipping twelve-year-old, JR, groomed to be a captain and growing into leadership, Madelaine, ship's attorney, and Fletcher's great-grandmother. And the Neiharts must deal with a resentful hostage who bears their name and features, but knows nothing of their history, traditions or lives.
Meanwhile, Finity's End flies toward conflict and danger. For Captain Neihart is forging a treaty among the worlds, stations and Merchanters; and opponents will try ambush, sabotage, and murder to stop him. By journey's end the hope for peace will depend on whether JR, Jeremy and the crew can uphold Merchanter honor; and whether Fletcher, guided by a gift from the hisa, can learn to trust Allliance-Union: Hanan Rebellion. Yet she was more closely related to her human prisoner, Kurt Morgan, though their star nations had been bitter enemies for two thousand years. She granted Kurt Moragn his lfie, but for a price: that he remain indebted to his captors, immersed in an alien environment which threatened to drive him mad.
Beset with doubts, Kurt accepted the terms of his capture and despite his misgivings became intrigued with his life. For he shared something unique with his captor--both of them had survived the destruction of their worlds. And then they realized that the world on which they now lived was on the brink of a devastating war, and they were perhaps the only two sentient beings there who understood the ultimate sacrifice that might come from such a conflict.
Could they save this world, or would they die with their adopted planet, humanity's orphans at the edge of space. Hunter of Worlds: The Iduve were the most advanced spacefaring race in the galaxy. They traveled where they pleased in giant city-sized vessels, engrossed with their own affairs. The Iduve were humanoid, but they differed from Earth's own humans in one significant way: they were pure predators incapable of human emotion. Aiela was a world-survey officer who found himself abducted to serve the Iduve clanship Ashanome.
Forcibly mind-linked with two other captives, life for Aiela became wholly dedicated to the service of his captors. But then the Ashanome came to the world of Priamos, a war-torn planet caught in a struggle between humans and the alien race known as the amaut. When she discovered that her fugitive brother was hiding there, Chimele, leader of the Ashanome , was willing to sacrifice this entire world to destroy him.
And Priamos' only hope for survival lay with Aiela and his fellow captives Allliance-Union: Hanan Rebellion : Book 1. The leader of the Hana was a Priestess-Ruler in a world of humanoid aliens. Allliance-Union: Hanan Rebellion : Book 2. The Iduve were the most advanced spacefaring race in the galaxy. No one at Meetpoint Station had ever seen a creature like the Outsider. Little did he know when he threw himself upon the mercy of The Pride and her crew that he put the entire hani species in jeopardy and imperiled the peace of the Compact itself.
For the information this fugitive held could be the ruin or glory of any of the species at Meetpoint Station. Pyanfar Chanur thought she had seen the last of Tully, the lone human who had so disrupted the peace of Meetpoint Station and gained the Chanur clan the enmity of half a dozen races as well as their own. But Tully is back, bringing with him a priceless trade contract with human space. A contract which would mean vast power, riches, and a new hornet's nest for Pyanfar and the Pride. When the kif seize Hilfy and Tully, Pyanfar and her shipmates enter into a simple rescue attempt that soon becomes a deadly game of interstellar politics.
When those aliens entities called "humans" sent their first exploration ship into Compact space, the traditional power alliances of the seven Compact races were catastrophically disrupted. And, giving shelter to Tully, the only surviving human, Pyanfar Chanur and her feline hani crew were pitched into the center of a galactic maelstrom, becoming key players in a power game which could cause an intersteller war, or bring the last hope for peace between eight barely compatible alien races.
Hilfy Chanur, young captain of the merchant ship Chanur's Legacy , accepts a commission from a dignitary on the planet Meetpoint to deliver a religious artifact to nearby Urtur Station. The arrangement soon becomes a tangle of interstellar intrigue as Hilfy and her crew battle kidnappers, assassins, and smooth politicians while fighting their own inborn prejudices. This is the story of three people: Sten Duncan, a soldier of humanity; Niun, last warrior of the mri, humanity's enemies; and Melein, priestess-queen of the final fallen mri stronghold.
It is the story of two mighty species fighting for a galaxy, humanity driving out from Earth, and the enigmatic regul struggling to hold their stars with mri mercenaries. It is a story of diplomacy and warfare, of conspiracy and betrayal, and of three flesh-and-blood people who found themselves thrown together in a life-and-death alliance.
Sten Duncan had saved the lives of the last warrior and the last priestess-queen of mankind's enemies, the mri. He had come to understand their ways and to value their code of honor. When they planned their escape and he was ordered to trap them, Sten fled into space with them instead. Far across the cosmos was their forgotten homeworld.
He could help them find it--and maybe there find the secret that had eluded the military masters of Terra. When the third volume begins, the regul are in a state of disarray as a result of the assassination. Duncan returns to the mri and joins them in seeking assistance from the Elee, the other surviving race of ancient Kutath. After a new Elder has risen among the regul, they renew their attack on the Mri. This time humanity acts to halt the genocide, and as a result form a new partnership with the Mri. Cherryh Jane S.
For years, the stations of the Hinder Stars, those old stations closest to Sol, have lagged behind the great megastations of the Beyond, like Pell and Cyteen. But new opportunities and fears arise when Alpha station receives news of an incoming ship with no identification.
The denizens of Alpha wait anxiously for news about the outsiders, each with their own suspicions about the ship and its origins. Ross and Fallon, crew members of the Galway , believe the unidentified ship belongs to Pell and has come to investigate another massive ship docked at Alpha, The Rights of Man. Though Rights is under the command of the Earth Company, it is not quite perfected--and its true purpose is shrouded in mystery.
James Robert Neihart, captain of Finity's End --a huge faster-than-light ship flown by one of the Merchanter Families--has heard whispers of The Rights of Man and wonders at its design and purpose, especially as Sol struggles to rival the progress of the Farther Stars. Now docked at Alpha, he must convince the crews that there is more to The Rights of Man than meets the eye. Because the reasons behind the creation of The Rights of Man , and its true plans, could change everything--not just for Sol, but for the Hinder Stars and the Beyond itslf.
Allliance-Union: Unionside : Book 1. Set in the same future as the Hugo-winning Downbelow Station, but fully self-contained, this is a story on the classic theme of human understanding of the alien. Once again, Cherryh proves herself a consistently thoughtful and entertaining writer.
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Allliance-Union: Unionside : Book 2. In a futuristic world of cybernetics, two young friends become trapped in an endless nightmare of suspicion, surveillance, programmable servants, a centuries-old ruling class, and an enigmatic woman who rules them all. Allliance-Union: Unionside : Book 3. The direct sequel to the Hugo Award- winning novel Cyteen, Regenesis continues the story of Ariane Emory PR, the genetic clone of one of the greatest scientists humanity has ever produced, and of her search for the murderer of her progenitor-the original Ariane Emory.
Murder, politics, deception, and genetic and psychological manipulation combine against a backdrop of interstellar human societies at odds to create a mesmerizing and major work in Regenesis. Who did kill the original Ariane Emory? And can her personal replicate avoid the same fate? Those questions have remained unanswered for two decades-since the publication of Cyteen.
Now in Regenesis those questions will finally be answered. Journey to a transitional time in the world, as the dawn of mortal man brings about the downfall of elven magic. But there remains one final place untouched by human hands - the small forest of Ealdwood, in which dwells Arafel the Sidhe, who has more love of the earth than any of her kind. This is a moving, compelling tale of the last stronghold of immortality struggling to survive the rise of man.
Ealdwood : Book 1. In that dawn of man and death of magic there yet remained one last untouched place -- the small forest of Ealdwood -- which kept a time different from elsewhere, and one who dwelt there who had more patience, pride and love of the earth than any other of her kind -- Arafel the Sidhe. The Tree of Swords and Jewels. Ealdwood : Book 2. They said that Ciaran Cuilean was fey-that he had the touch of the Sidhe on him, and on his lands. And it was true. Elvish blood ran in his veins, and he had been to that other world-that parallel and magical land of Eald, where Arafel, the Lady of Trees, held dominion.
But what should have been a blessing was as much a curse--for jealousy and fear grew in the lands of men. Shadows of newly awakened evil swarmed across both landscapes threatening to bring the clang and reek of war from the warm hearthstones of the mortal world keeps to the silvery heart of Ealdwood. And Ciaran knew that he must once again put his humanity aside and reclaim his haunted weapons from the Tree of Swords or see both his worlds fold into darkness! Finisterre : Book 1. Stranded on a distant planet that abounds with fertile farmland, human colonists appear to be in paradise.
But all the native animals communicate by telepathy, projecting images that drive humans mad. Only Nighthorses stand between civilization and madness. When a flare of human emotion spreads to all the horses, chaos erupts. Finisterre : Book 2. On a distant planet, all the native creatures communicate telepathically, projecting images which drive humans to madness. As a result, the people live in walled cities and owe their lives to the nighthorses, equines who can bond with certain riders and provide a telepathic "buffer".
But one savage winter, young Danny Fisher and his nighthorse Cloud lead the survivors of a deadly telepathic attack to shelter high in the snowbound mountains--only to discover their "sanctuary" threatened by a vicious predator never before known to humans. Sequel to "Rider at the Gate". Foreigner: Arc 1 : Book 1. It had been nearly five centuries since the starship Phoenix, lost in space and desperately searching for the nearest G5 star, had encountered the planet of the atevi. On this alien world, law was kept by the use of registered assassination, alliances were defined by individual loyalties not geographical borders, and war became inevitable once humans and one faction of atevi established a working relationship.
It was a war that humans had no chance of winning on this planet so many light-years from home. Now, nearly two hundred years after that conflict, humanity has traded its advanced technology for peace and an island refuge that no atevi will ever visit. Then the sole human the treaty allows into atevi society is marked for an assassin's bullet. The work of an isolated lunatic?
The interests of a particular faction? Or the consequence of one human's fondness for a species which has fourteen words for betrayal and not a single word for love? Foreigner: Arc 1 : Book 2. On the world of the atevi, humanity makes up one small enclave, on the island of Mospheira. After the disappearance of the starship Phoenix, only one human representative is allowed to interact with the atevi - the Paidhi, a mixture of ambassador, translator and salesman of advanced technology.
In a society where assassination is a recognised form of negotiation, Bren Cameron had been performing his task as Paidhi well. Recovering from surgery on Mospheira, Cameron must return immediately to the atevi, but he finds his government has already sent a successor, Deanna Hanks, without informing him. And she has managed to alienate major factions against humanity. Battling against his strangely-silent masters, the deadly atevi and Hanks, Bren Cameron must take risks that could destroy the entire world - or save it for atevi and humanity alike. Foreigner: Arc 1 : Book 3. Six months have passed since the reappearance of the starship Phoenix - six months during which the alien atevi have striven to reconfigure their fledling space program in a breakneck bid to take their place in the heavens alongside humans.
But the return of the Phoenix has added a frighteningly powerful third party to an already volatile situation, polarizing political factions in both human and atevi societies, and making the possibility of all-out planetary war an ever more likely threat. On the atevi mainland, human ambassador Bren Cameron, in a desperate attempt to maintain the peace, has arranged for one human representative from the Phoenix to take up residence with him in his apartments, while another is stationed on Mospheira, humanity's island enclave.
Bren himself is unable to return home for fear of being arrested or assassinated by the powerful arch conservative element who wish to bar the atevi from space. Responsible for a terrified, overwhelmed young man, and desperately trying to keep abreast of the political maneuverings of the atevi associations, how can Bren Cameron possibly find a way to save two species from a three-sided conflict that no one can win?
Foreigner: Arc 2 : Book 1. Over three years have passed since the reappearance of the starship Phoenix - the same ship which two centuries left an isolated colony of humans to fend for themselves on the world of the volatile atevi. Since that time, humans have lived in exile on the island of Mospheira, using a single diplomat, the paidhi, to trade advanced technology for the continued peace and safety of its people.
But the unexpected return of the Phoenix has shattered forever the fragile, carefully maintained political balance of these two nearly incompatible races. For the captains of the Phoenix offer the atevi something Mospheira never could - access to the stars. The doors are well watched, no improper figure can enter. The fourth Princess Loque Dud , as we guess, is already in the Nunnery, and can only give her orisons.
Poor Graille and Sisterhood, they have never known a Father: such is the hard bargain Grandeur must make. If Majesty came some morning, with coffee of its own making, and swallowed it with them hastily while the dogs were uncoupling for the hunt, it was received as a grace of Heaven. To us also it is a little sunny spot, in that dismal howling waste, where we hardly find another. Meanwhile, what shall an impartial prudent Courtier do? In these delicate circumstances, while not only death or life, but even sacrament or no sacrament, is a question, the skilfulest may falter.
With another few, it is a resolution taken; jacta est alea. Old Richelieu,—when Beaumont, driven by public opinion, is at last for entering the sick-room,—will twitch him by the rochet, into a recess; and there, with his old dissipated mastiff-face, and the oiliest vehemence, be seen pleading and even, as we judge by Beaumont's change of colour, prevailing 'that the King be not killed by a proposition in Divinity.
Happy these, we may say; but to the rest that hover between two opinions, is it not trying? He who would understand to what a pass Catholicism, and much else, had now got; and how the symbols of the Holiest have become gambling-dice of the Basest,—must read the narrative of those things by Besenval, and Soulavie, and the other Court Newsmen of the time.
He will see the Versailles Galaxy all scattered asunder, grouped into new ever-shifting Constellations. There are nods and sagacious glances; go-betweens, silk dowagers mysteriously gliding, with smiles for this constellation, sighs for that: there is tremor, of hope or desperation, in several hearts.
There is the pale grinning Shadow of Death, ceremoniously ushered along by another grinning Shadow, of Etiquette: at intervals the growl of Chapel Organs, like prayer by machinery; proclaiming, as in a kind of horrid diabolic horse-laughter, Vanity of vanities, all is Vanity! Poor Louis! With these it is a hollow phantasmagory, where like mimes they mope and mowl, and utter false sounds for hire; but with thee it is frightful earnest. Frightful to all men is Death; from of old named King of Terrors.
Our little compact home of an Existence, where we dwelt complaining, yet as in a home, is passing, in dark agonies, into an Unknown of Separation, Foreignness, unconditioned Possibility. The Heathen Emperor asks of his soul: Into what places art thou now departing? Yes, it is a summing-up of Life; a final settling, and giving-in the 'account of the deeds done in the body:' they are done now; and lie there unalterable, and do bear their fruits, long as Eternity shall last.
Louis XV. He, if the Court Newsmen can be believed, started up once on a time, glowing with sulphurous contempt and indignation on his poor Secretary, who had stumbled on the words, feu roi d'Espagne the late King of Spain : " Feu roi, Monsieur? He would not suffer Death to be spoken of; avoided the sight of churchyards, funereal monuments, and whatsoever could bring it to mind.
It is the resource of the Ostrich; who, hard hunted, sticks his foolish head in the ground, and would fain forget that his foolish unseeing body is not unseen too. Or sometimes, with a spasmodic antagonism, significant of the same thing, and of more, he would go; or stopping his court carriages, would send into churchyards, and ask 'how many new graves there were today,' though it gave his poor Pompadour the disagreeablest qualms. We can figure the thought of Louis that day, when, all royally caparisoned for hunting, he met, at some sudden turning in the Wood of Senart, a ragged Peasant with a coffin: "For whom?
But figure his thought, when Death is now clutching at his own heart-strings, unlooked for, inexorable! Yes, poor Louis, Death has found thee. No palace walls or life-guards, gorgeous tapestries or gilt buckram of stiffest ceremonial could keep him out; but he is here, here at thy very life-breath, and will extinguish it. Thou, whose whole existence hitherto was a chimera and scenic show, at length becomest a reality: sumptuous Versailles bursts asunder, like a dream, into void Immensity; Time is done, and all the scaffolding of Time falls wrecked with hideous clangour round thy soul: the pale Kingdoms yawn open; there must thou enter, naked, all unking'd, and await what is appointed thee!
Unhappy man, there as thou turnest, in dull agony, on thy bed of weariness, what a thought is thine! Purgatory and Hell-fire, now all-too possible, in the prospect; in the retrospect,—alas, what thing didst thou do that were not better undone; what mortal didst thou generously help; what sorrow hadst thou mercy on? Do the 'five hundred thousand' ghosts, who sank shamefully on so many battle-fields from Rossbach to Quebec, that thy Harlot might take revenge for an epigram,—crowd round thee in this hour?
Thy foul Harem; the curses of mothers, the tears and infamy of daughters? Miserable man! Wert thou a fabulous Griffin, devouring the works of men; daily dragging virgins to thy cave;—clad also in scales that no spear would pierce: no spear but Death's? A Griffin not fabulous but real! Frightful, O Louis, seem these moments for thee. And yet let no meanest man lay flattering unction to his soul. Louis was a Ruler; but art not thou also one? His wide France, look at it from the Fixed Stars themselves not yet Infinitude , is no wider than thy narrow brickfield, where thou too didst faithfully, or didst unfaithfully.
Man, 'Symbol of Eternity imprisoned into 'Time! What son of Adam could have swayed such incoherences into coherence? Could he? Blindest Fortune alone has cast him on the top of it: he swims there; can as little sway it as the drift-log sways the wind-tossed moon-stirred Atlantic. He may say now: What have I done to be so hated? Thou hast done nothing, poor Louis! Thy fault is properly even this, that thou didst nothing.
What could poor Louis do? Abdicate, and wash his hands of it,—in favour of the first that would accept! Other clear wisdom there was none for him. As it was, he stood gazing dubiously, the absurdest mortal extant a very Solecism Incarnate , into the absurdest confused world;—wherein at lost nothing seemed so certain as that he, the incarnate Solecism, had five senses; that were Flying Tables Tables Volantes , which vanish through the floor, to come back reloaded. Whereby at least we have again this historical curiosity: a human being in an original position; swimming passively, as on some boundless 'Mother of Dead Dogs,' towards issues which he partly saw.
For Louis had withal a kind of insight in him. So, when a new Minister of Marine, or what else it might be, came announcing his new era, the Scarlet-woman would hear from the lips of Majesty at supper: "He laid out his ware like another; promised the beautifulest things in the world; not a thing of which will come: he does not know this region; he will see. Doomed mortal;—for is it not a doom to be Solecism incarnate! Say, wretcheder! His Life-solecism was seen and felt of a whole scandalised world; him endless Oblivion cannot engulf, and swallow to endless depths,—not yet for a generation or two.
However, be this as it will, we remark, not without interest, that 'on the evening of the 4th,' Dame Dubarry issues from the sick-room, with perceptible 'trouble in her visage. Is he dying then? What can be said is, that Dubarry seems making up her packages; she sails weeping through her gilt boudoirs, as if taking leave. D'Aiguilon and Company are near their last card; nevertheless they will not yet throw up the game. Nay, already, in the afternoon, behold is not this your Sorceress Dubarry with the handkerchief at her eyes, mounting D'Aiguillon's chariot; rolling off in his Duchess's consolatory arms?
She is gone; and her place knows her no more. Vanish, false Sorceress; into Space! Needless to hover at neighbouring Ruel; for thy day is done. Shut are the royal palace-gates for evermore; hardly in coming years shalt thou, under cloud of night, descend once, in black domino, like a black night-bird, and disturb the fair Antoinette's music-party in the Park: all Birds of Paradise flying from thee, and musical windpipes growing mute.
What a course was thine: from that first trucklebed in Joan of Arc's country where thy mother bore thee, with tears, to an unnamed father: forward, through lowest subterranean depths, and over highest sunlit heights, of Harlotdom and Rascaldom—to the guillotine-axe, which shears away thy vainly whimpering head! Rest there uncursed; only buried and abolished: what else befitted thee?
Louis, meanwhile, is in considerable impatience for his sacraments; sends more than once to the window, to see whether they are not coming. Be of comfort, Louis, what comfort thou canst: they are under way, those sacraments. Towards six in the morning, they arrive. The amende honorable , what 'legal apology' you will, to God:—but not, if D'Aiguillon can help it, to man. Dubarry still hovers in his mansion at Ruel; and while there is life, there is hope.
Grand-Almoner Roche-Aymon, accordingly for he seems to be in the secret , has no sooner seen his pyxes and gear repacked, then he is stepping majestically forth again, as if the work were done! Whereupon the poor Cardinal must turn round; and declare audibly; "That his Majesty repents of any subjects of scandal he may have given a pu donner ; and purposes, by the strength of Heaven assisting him, to avoid the like—for the future!
Old Richelieu, conqueror of Minorca, companion of Flying-Table orgies, perforator of bedroom walls,  is thy day also done? Alas, the Chapel organs may keep going; the Shrine of Sainte Genevieve be let down, and pulled up again,—without effect. In the evening the whole Court, with Dauphin and Dauphiness, assist at the Chapel: priests are hoarse with chanting their 'Prayers of Forty Hours;' and the heaving bellows blow.
Almost frightful! For the very heaven blackens; battering rain-torrents dash, with thunder; almost drowning the organ's voice: and electric fire-flashes make the very flambeaux on the altar pale. So that the most, as we are told, retired, when it was over, with hurried steps, 'in a state of meditation recueillement ,' and said little or nothing. So it has lasted for the better half of a fortnight; the Dubarry gone almost a week. It is now the 10th of May He will soon have done now. This tenth May day falls into the loathsome sick-bed; but dull, unnoticed there: for they that look out of the windows are quite darkened; the cistern-wheel moves discordant on its axis; Life, like a spent steed, is panting towards the goal.
In their remote apartments, Dauphin and Dauphiness stand road-ready; all grooms and equerries booted and spurred: waiting for some signal to escape the house of pestilence. It is the rush of the whole Court, rushing as in wager, to salute the new Sovereigns: Hail to your Majesties! The Dauphin and Dauphiness are King and Queen! Over-powered with many emotions, they two fall on their knees together, and, with streaming tears, exclaim, "O God, guide us, protect us; we are too young to reign! Thus, in any case, 'with a sound absolutely like thunder,' has the Horologe of Time struck, and an old Era passed away.
The Louis that was, lies forsaken, a mass of abhorred clay; abandoned 'to some poor persons, and priests of the Chapelle Ardente ,'—who make haste to put him 'in two lead coffins, pouring in abundant spirits of wine. Light mortals, how ye walk your light life-minuet, over bottomless abysses, divided from you by a film! For the rest, the proper authorities felt that no Funeral could be too unceremonious. Besenval himself thinks it was unceremonious enough.
Two carriages containing two noblemen of the usher species, and a Versailles clerical person; some score of mounted pages, some fifty palfreniers; these, with torches, but not so much as in black, start from Versailles on the second evening with their leaden bier. At a high trot they start; and keep up that pace. For the jibes brocards of those Parisians, who stand planted in two rows, all the way to St. Denis, and 'give vent to their pleasantry, the characteristic of the nation,' do not tempt one to slacken. Towards midnight the vaults of St. Denis receive their own; unwept by any eye of all these; if not by poor Loque his neglected Daughter's, whose Nunnery is hard by.
Him they crush down, and huddle under-ground, in this impatient way; him and his era of sin and tyranny and shame; for behold a New Era is come; the future all the brighter that the past was base. A paradoxical philosopher, carrying to the uttermost length that aphorism of Montesquieu's, 'Happy the people whose annals are tiresome,' has said, 'Happy the people whose annals are vacant. For truly, as it has been written, 'Silence is divine,' and of Heaven; so in all earthly things too there is a silence which is better than any speech. Consider it well, the Event, the thing which can be spoken of and recorded, is it not, in all cases, some disruption, some solution of continuity?
Were it even a glad Event, it involves change, involves loss of active Force ; and so far, either in the past or in the present, is an irregularity, a disease. Stillest perseverance were our blessedness; not dislocation and alteration,—could they be avoided. The oak grows silently, in the forest, a thousand years; only in the thousandth year, when the woodman arrives with his axe, is there heard an echoing through the solitudes; and the oak announces itself when, with a far-sounding crash, it falls. How silent too was the planting of the acorn; scattered from the lap of some wandering wind! Nay, when our oak flowered, or put on its leaves its glad Events , what shout of proclamation could there be?
Hardly from the most observant a word of recognition. These things befell not, they were slowly done; not in an hour, but through the flight of days: what was to be said of it? This hour seemed altogether as the last was, as the next would be. It is thus everywhere that foolish Rumour babbles not of what was done, but of what was misdone or undone; and foolish History ever, more or less, the written epitomised synopsis of Rumour knows so little that were not as well unknown.
For the Earth, all this while, was yearly green and yellow with her kind harvests; the hand of the craftsman, the mind of the thinker rested not: and so, after all, and in spite of all, we have this so glorious high-domed blossoming World; concerning which, poor History may well ask, with wonder, Whence it came? She knows so little of it, knows so much of what obstructed it, what would have rendered it impossible. Such, nevertheless, by necessity or foolish choice, is her rule and practice; whereby that paradox, 'Happy the people whose annals are vacant,' is not without its true side.
And yet, what seems more pertinent to note here, there is a stillness, not of unobstructed growth, but of passive inertness, and symptom of imminent downfall. As victory is silent, so is defeat. Of the opposing forces the weaker has resigned itself; the stronger marches on, noiseless now, but rapid, inevitable: the fall and overturn will not be noiseless.
How all grows, and has its period, even as the herbs of the fields, be it annual, centennial, millennial! All grows and dies, each by its own wondrous laws, in wondrous fashion of its own; spiritual things most wondrously of all. Inscrutable, to the wisest, are these latter; not to be prophesied of, or understood. If when the oak stands proudliest flourishing to the eye, you know that its heart is sound, it is not so with the man; how much less with the Society, with the Nation of men!
Of such it may be affirmed even that the superficial aspect, that the inward feeling of full health, is generally ominous. For indeed it is of apoplexy, so to speak, and a plethoric lazy habit of body, that Churches, Kingships, Social Institutions, oftenest die. Sad, when such Institution plethorically says to itself, Take thy ease, thou hast goods laid up;—like the fool of the Gospel, to whom it was answered, Fool, this night thy life shall be required of thee!
Is it the healthy peace, or the ominous unhealthy, that rests on France, for these next Ten Years? Over which the Historian can pass lightly, without call to linger: for as yet events are not, much less performances. Time of sunniest stillness;—shall we call it, what all men thought it, the new Age of Gold? Call it at least, of Paper; which in many ways is the succedaneum of Gold. Bank-paper, wherewith you can still buy when there is no gold left; Book-paper, splendent with Theories, Philosophies, Sensibilities,—beautiful art, not only of revealing Thought, but also of so beautifully hiding from us the want of Thought!
Paper is made from the rags of things that did once exist; there are endless excellences in Paper. Hope ushers in a Revolution,—as earthquakes are preceded by bright weather. On the Fifth of May, fifteen years hence, old Louis will not be sending for the Sacraments; but a new Louis, his grandson, with the whole pomp of astonished intoxicated France, will be opening the States-General.
Dubarrydom and its D'Aiguillons are gone forever. There is a young, still docile, well-intentioned King; a young, beautiful and bountiful, well-intentioned Queen; and with them all France, as it were, become young. Maupeou and his Parlement have to vanish into thick night; respectable Magistrates, not indifferent to the Nation, were it only for having been opponents of the Court, can descend unchained from their 'steep rocks at Croe in Combrailles' and elsewhere, and return singing praises: the old Parlement of Paris resumes its functions.
By whom whatsoever is wrong, in Finance or otherwise, will be righted,—as far as possible. Is it not as if Wisdom herself were henceforth to have seat and voice in the Council of Kings? Turgot has taken office with the noblest plainness of speech to that effect; been listened to with the noblest royal trustfulness.
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Then how 'sweet' are the manners; vice 'losing all its deformity;' becoming decent as established things, making regulations for themselves, do ; becoming almost a kind of 'sweet' virtue! Intelligence so abounds; irradiated by wit and the art of conversation. Philosophism sits joyful in her glittering saloons, the dinner-guest of Opulence grown ingenuous, the very nobles proud to sit by her; and preaches, lifted up over all Bastilles, a coming millennium. From far Ferney, Patriarch Voltaire gives sign: veterans Diderot, D'Alembert have lived to see this day; these with their younger Marmontels, Morellets, Chamforts, Raynals, make glad the spicy board of rich ministering Dowager, of philosophic Farmer-General.
O nights and suppers of the gods! Of a truth, the long-demonstrated will now be done: 'the Age of Revolutions approaches' as Jean Jacques wrote , but then of happy blessed ones. Man awakens from his long somnambulism; chases the Phantasms that beleagured and bewitched him. Behold the new morning glittering down the eastern steeps; fly, false Phantasms, from its shafts of light; let the Absurd fly utterly forsaking this lower Earth for ever. For what imaginable purpose was man made, if not to be 'happy'?
By victorious Analysis, and Progress of the Species, happiness enough now awaits him. Kings can become philosophers; or else philosophers Kings. Let but Society be once rightly constituted,—by victorious Analysis. The stomach that is empty shall be filled; the throat that is dry shall be wetted with wine. Labour itself shall be all one as rest; not grievous, but joyous. Wheatfields, one would think, cannot come to grow untilled; no man made clayey, or made weary thereby;—unless indeed machinery will do it? Gratuitous Tailors and Restaurateurs may start up, at fit intervals, one as yet sees not how.
But if each will, according to rule of Benevolence, have a care for all, then surely—no one will be uncared for. Nay, who knows but, by sufficiently victorious Analysis, 'human life may be indefinitely lengthened,' and men get rid of Death, as they have already done of the Devil? We shall then be happy in spite of Death and the Devil. Sufficient for the day be its own evil. Cheery old man, he cuts his jokes, and hovers careless along; his cloak well adjusted to the wind, if so be he may please all persons. The simple young King, whom a Maurepas cannot think of troubling with business, has retired into the interior apartments; taciturn, irresolute; though with a sharpness of temper at times: he, at length, determines on a little smithwork; and so, in apprenticeship with a Sieur Gamain whom one day he shall have little cause to bless , is learning to make locks.
Unhappy young King, his childlike trust in that foolish old Maurepas deserved another return. But friend and foe, destiny and himself have combined to do him hurt. Meanwhile the fair young Queen, in her halls of state, walks like a goddess of Beauty, the cynosure of all eyes; as yet mingles not with affairs; heeds not the future; least of all, dreads it.
Weber and Campan  have pictured her, there within the royal tapestries, in bright boudoirs, baths, peignoirs, and the Grand and Little Toilette; with a whole brilliant world waiting obsequious on her glance: fair young daughter of Time, what things has Time in store for thee!
Like Earth's brightest Appearance, she moves gracefully, environed with the grandeur of Earth: a reality, and yet a magic vision; for, behold, shall not utter Darkness swallow it! The soft young heart adopts orphans, portions meritorious maids, delights to succour the poor,—such poor as come picturesquely in her way; and sets the fashion of doing it; for as was said, Benevolence has now begun reigning.
In her Duchess de Polignac, in Princess de Lamballe, she enjoys something almost like friendship; now too, after seven long years, she has a child, and soon even a Dauphin, of her own; can reckon herself, as Queens go, happy in a husband. There are Snow-statues raised by the poor in hard winter to a Queen who has given them fuel. There are masquerades, theatricals; beautifyings of little Trianon, purchase and repair of St. Cloud; journeyings from the summer Court-Elysium to the winter one.
There are poutings and grudgings from the Sardinian Sisters-in-law for the Princes too are wedded ; little jealousies, which Court-Etiquette can moderate. Wholly the lightest-hearted frivolous foam of Existence; yet an artfully refined foam; pleasant were it not so costly, like that which mantles on the wine of Champagne! Monsieur, the King's elder Brother, has set up for a kind of wit; and leans towards the Philosophe side.
Monseigneur d'Artois pulls the mask from a fair impertinent; fights a duel in consequence,—almost drawing blood. In such sort are poor mortals swept and shovelled to and fro. With the working people, again it is not so well. For there are twenty to twenty-five millions of them. Whom, however, we lump together into a kind of dim compendious unity, monstrous but dim, far off, as the canaille; or, more humanely, as 'the masses.
Every unit of whom has his own heart and sorrows; stands covered there with his own skin, and if you prick him he will bleed. O purple Sovereignty, Holiness, Reverence; thou, for example, Cardinal Grand-Almoner, with thy plush covering of honour, who hast thy hands strengthened with dignities and moneys, and art set on thy world watch-tower solemnly, in sight of God, for such ends,—what a thought: that every unit of these masses is a miraculous Man, even as thyself art; struggling, with vision, or with blindness, for his infinite Kingdom this life which he has got, once only, in the middle of Eternities ; with a spark of the Divinity, what thou callest an immortal soul, in him!
Dreary, languid do these struggle in their obscure remoteness; their hearth cheerless, their diet thin. For them, in this world, rises no Era of Hope; hardly now in the other,—if it be not hope in the gloomy rest of Death, for their faith too is failing. Untaught, uncomforted, unfed! A dumb generation; their voice only an inarticulate cry: spokesman, in the King's Council, in the world's forum, they have none that finds credence. At rare intervals as now, in , they will fling down their hoes and hammers; and, to the astonishment of thinking mankind,  flock hither and thither, dangerous, aimless; get the length even of Versailles.
Turgot is altering the Corn-trade, abrogating the absurdest Corn-laws; there is dearth, real, or were it even 'factitious;' an indubitable scarcity of bread. They have seen the King's face; their Petition of Grievances has been, if not read, looked at.
For answer, two of them are hanged, 'on a new gallows forty feet high;' and the rest driven back to their dens,—for a time.
Clearly a difficult 'point' for Government, that of dealing with these masses;—if indeed it be not rather the sole point and problem of Government, and all other points mere accidental crotchets, superficialities, and beatings of the wind! For let Charter-Chests, Use and Wont, Law common and special say what they will, the masses count to so many millions of units; made, to all appearance, by God,—whose Earth this is declared to be.
Besides, the people are not without ferocity; they have sinews and indignation. Do but look what holiday old Marquis Mirabeau, the crabbed old friend of Men, looked on, in these same years, from his lodging, at the Baths of Mont d'Or: 'The savages descending in torrents from the mountains; our people ordered not to go out. The Curate in surplice and stole; Justice in its peruke; Marechausee sabre in hand, guarding the place, till the bagpipes can begin. And these people pay the taille! And you want further to take their salt from them!
And you know not what it is you are stripping barer, or as you call it, governing; what by the spurt of your pen, in its cold dastard indifference, you will fancy you can starve always with impunity; always till the catastrophe come!
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Meanwhile, trouble us not with thy prophecies, O croaking Friend of Men: 'tis long that we have heard such; and still the old world keeps wagging, in its old way. Or is this same Age of Hope itself but a simulacrum; as Hope too often is? Cloud-vapour with rainbows painted on it, beautiful to see, to sail towards,—which hovers over Niagara Falls? In that case, victorious Analysis will have enough to do. Alas, yes! For all is wrong, and gone out of joint; the inward spiritual, and the outward economical; head or heart, there is no soundness in it.
As indeed, evils of all sorts are more or less of kin, and do usually go together: especially it is an old truth, that wherever huge physical evil is, there, as the parent and origin of it, has moral evil to a proportionate extent been. Before those five-and-twenty labouring Millions, for instance, could get that haggardness of face, which old Mirabeau now looks on, in a Nation calling itself Christian, and calling man the brother of man,—what unspeakable, nigh infinite Dishonesty of seeming and not being in all manner of Rulers, and appointed Watchers, spiritual and temporal, must there not, through long ages, have gone on accumulating!
It will accumulate: moreover, it will reach a head; for the first of all Gospels is this, that a Lie cannot endure for ever. In fact, if we pierce through that rosepink vapour of Sentimentalism, Philanthropy, and Feasts of Morals, there lies behind it one of the sorriest spectacles. You might ask, What bonds that ever held a human society happily together, or held it together at all, are in force here? It is an unbelieving people; which has suppositions, hypotheses, and froth-systems of victorious Analysis; and for belief this mainly, that Pleasure is pleasant.
Hunger they have for all sweet things; and the law of Hunger; but what other law? Within them, or over them, properly none! Their King has become a King Popinjay; with his Maurepas Government, gyrating as the weather-cock does, blown about by every wind.
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Above them they see no God; or they even do not look above, except with astronomical glasses. The Church indeed still is; but in the most submissive state; quite tamed by Philosophism; in a singularly short time; for the hour was come. Our Church stands haltered, dumb, like a dumb ox; lowing only for provender of tithes ; content if it can have that; or, dumbly, dully expecting its further doom.
And the Twenty Millions of 'haggard faces;' and, as finger-post and guidance to them in their dark struggle, 'a gallows forty feet high'! Certainly a singular Golden Age; with its Feasts of Morals, its 'sweet manners,' its sweet institutions institutions douces ; betokening nothing but peace among men!
O Philosophe-Sentimentalism, what hast thou to do with peace, when thy mother's name is Jezebel? Foul Product of still fouler Corruption, thou with the corruption art doomed! Meanwhile it is singular how long the rotten will hold together, provided you do not handle it roughly. For whole generations it continues standing, 'with a ghastly affectation of life,' after all life and truth has fled out of it; so loth are men to quit their old ways; and, conquering indolence and inertia, venture on new.
Great truly is the Actual; is the Thing that has rescued itself from bottomless deeps of theory and possibility, and stands there as a definite indisputable Fact, whereby men do work and live, or once did so. Widely shall men cleave to that, while it will endure; and quit it with regret, when it gives way under them. Rash enthusiast of Change, beware! Hast thou well considered all that Habit does in this life of ours; how all Knowledge and all Practice hang wondrous over infinite abysses of the Unknown, Impracticable; and our whole being is an infinite abyss, overarched by Habit, as by a thin Earth-rind, laboriously built together?
But if 'every man,' as it has been written, 'holds confined within him a mad -man,' what must every Society do;—Society, which in its commonest state is called 'the standing miracle of this world'! With such it exists, better or worse. Herein too, in this its System of Habits, acquired, retained how you will, lies the true Law-Code and Constitution of a Society; the only Code, though an unwritten one which it can in nowise dis obey.
The thing we call written Code, Constitution, Form of Government, and the like, what is it but some miniature image, and solemnly expressed summary of this unwritten Code? Is ,—or rather alas, is not; but only should be, and always tends to be! In which latter discrepancy lies struggle without end. The fountains of the great deep boil forth; fire-fountains, enveloping, engulfing.
Your 'Earth-rind' is shattered, swallowed up; instead of a green flowery world, there is a waste wild-weltering chaos:—which has again, with tumult and struggle, to make itself into a world. On the other hand, be this conceded: Where thou findest a Lie that is oppressing thee, extinguish it. Lies exist there only to be extinguished; they wait and cry earnestly for extinction. Think well, meanwhile, in what spirit thou wilt do it: not with hatred, with headlong selfish violence; but in clearness of heart, with holy zeal, gently, almost with pity.
Thou wouldst not replace such extinct Lie by a new Lie, which a new Injustice of thy own were; the parent of still other Lies? Whereby the latter end of that business were worse than the beginning. So, however, in this world of ours, which has both an indestructible hope in the Future, and an indestructible tendency to persevere as in the Past, must Innovation and Conservation wage their perpetual conflict, as they may and can.
But indeed may we not regret that such conflict,—which, after all, is but like that classical one of 'hate-filled Amazons with heroic Youths,' and will end in embraces ,—should usually be so spasmodic? For Conservation, strengthened by that mightiest quality in us, our indolence, sits for long ages, not victorious only, which she should be; but tyrannical, incommunicative.
Wherefore, on the whole, we will honour a Paper Age too; an Era of hope! For in this same frightful process of Enceladus Revolt; when the task, on which no mortal would willingly enter, has become imperative, inevitable,—is it not even a kindness of Nature that she lures us forward by cheerful promises, fallacious or not; and a whole generation plunges into the Erebus Blackness, lighted on by an Era of Hope?
It has been well said: 'Man is based on Hope; he has properly no other possession but Hope; this habitation of his is named the Place of Hope. But now, among French hopes, is not that of old M. Nimble old man, who for all emergencies has his light jest; and ever in the worst confusion will emerge, cork-like, unsunk!
Faquinet Diminutive of Scoundrel '? In courtier dialect, he is now named 'the Nestor of France;' such governing Nestor as France has. At bottom, nevertheless, it might puzzle one to say where the Government of France, in these days, specially is. For Government is a thing that governs , that guides; and if need be, compels. Cherryh C. Book and Jacket appear to have hardly been read and are both in Fine condition throughout. Jacket Condition:Fine.
Book Condition:Fine. Format:Hard Cover. Edition:First Edition. Author: C. Cherryh ISBN Will be clean, not soiled or stained. Winner receives the lot of 3 different books pictured above. Take a look at the pictures for details. Books are in good condition with edge wear, spine wear, creases, and tears. A great addition or start to any collection. It may may not have been their best idea.
Two very good, low wear paperback pocket books, clean and unmarked. Location upright cabinet. Inheritor The Goblin Mirror Serpent's Reach Defender This book is in very good-condition with a very good-dust jacket. Book shows light softening to spine-ends, bumping to bottom front corner, and separation of ffep at gutter to half title page both pages still attached to page block, not loose. I will be adding about new books and about used books each month, so check back often for different titles.
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