By Mayer Alan Brenner
Welcome to the Dance of Gods!In a global of magic, the place desktops and nanotechnology are gone, the place inconsiderate gods fight for strength with little regard for these less 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 good Karlini in a citadel 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 and store the town from catastrophe.“Three separate strains of motion have interaction disparate characters in a race to converge finally in an immense blast of motion ... leaving the reader breathless yet satisfied.” --Kliatt
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Additional resources for Catastrophe's Spell (The Dance of Gods #1)
Max raised an eyebrow, swiveled it around at Roni and Karlini. Karlini sighed. “Right, Max. That’s the way we figured it. The person in the castle is a hostage. That’s me. ” Roni said, with a touch of sarcasm. “Aha,” Max said, “now that is exactly the point that concerns me the most. “ He rose and started pacing around the table. “If I were thinking about groups of magic-users, well, there’s the confederations and specialty guilds. Of course, their members aren’t what you’d call cordial to each other, they’re more backbiting societies than anything else.
All I know is that my aura suddenly went visible. Whenever I’ve looked at it, it manifests as a solid shell standing about a foot out from my body. The shell has a slightly fuzzy edge, and the space is filled with blocks of shifting color. Since I’d restored my personal defenses before starting out, I should have seen an unbroken surface with a dull metallic, slightly reflective sheen. Instead, when this field hit its surface the aura rippled, irregular patches all over the place turned yellow and started to glow, and then these glowing yellow patches began to peel up, like scales lifting off the skin of a snake.
A chipped signboard hanging out over the Boulevard showed the portrait of a yellowish gnome, his pointy ears wilting. Shaa gave it a nod, pushed open the door beneath the sign, and went in. Circles and ovals of light from the street lit up the walls. Shaa planted himself in a corner on a long bench with a view of the door and rested his elbows on the wood slab table. The bar behind him divided the customers from the bottles and kegs. From the other end of the common room, a staircase led upward, disappearing out of sight behind an alcove.