By Paul J. McAuley
On a man-made global created and seeded with 10000 bloodlines by way of the long-vanished Preservers, younger Yama's ancestry is exclusive, for he seems to be the final ultimate scion of the developers, closest of all races to the worshipped architects of Confluence. And on an afternoon close to the top of the area, Yama needs to eventually recognize the facility he neither expected nor wants.
In the dirt of many crumbling bureaucracies, Yama searches for an identification and a history-awed and scared of his ever-growing skill to rouse the poor machines of destruction that his world's absent gods left dozing. To the typical folk-the unshaped and aboriginal-he is the success of age-old prophecies. To the functionaries of the dep. of Indigenous Affairs, he's a weapon to be molded and utilized in the bloody civil battle raging on the planet's midpoint-a likely never-ending conflict that pits those that revere the Preservers' legislation opposed to the harmful Heretics who might obliterate all antiquated values and codes of behavior.
But there are nonetheless others who've taken observe of Yama as he pursues the hidden secrets and techniques of his previous. clever powers older than the Builders-as previous, might be, because the Preservers themselves -are pursuing Yama in flip. and they're going to cease at not anything to regulate his present-and, for this reason, the way forward for every thing that lives-in anticipation of the final word triumph of the Ancients of Days.
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Additional resources for Ancients of Days: The Second Book of Confluence
He saw that Yama was hungry, and took one of Yama's pennies and purchased waybread and water from a stall on the other side of the courtyard. "A tip if you have to return next time," Eliphas said, smiling tolerantly as Yama devoured the waybread. "Bring food with you. It's cheaper, and will probably be better, too. " The black waybread was heavy and very sweet, but it satisfied Yama's immediate hunger at once. "Usually a day to get through the preliminary certification," Eliphas said, "and then a day or two more to have the records searched.
He said, "I'm sure we can spare a few minutes before we go on. " As Yama and Eliphas approached the ornate fountain in the center of the lawn, two deer ran from it, white scuts bobbing as they disappeared into the darkness. Eliphas thrust his head into a spout of water that gushed from the gaping mouth of a fish; Yama drank from a basin shaped like an oyster shell and splashed cold water on the back of his neck. His head wound had begun to bleed again. While Eliphas sat on the edge of the fountain's main basin and lit his pipe, Yama walked back to the edge of the lawn.
That was bad luck, and not just for you," Magon said. "It must have been bound in the shrine. No doubt that's why the monastery was built around the shrine. It's all too easy to mistake the stirring of a hell-hound for the intimation of an avatar. Those poor monks, praying for thousands of years to a weapon of their enemies! There's irony for you, eh, dominie? Well, they'll worship the shrine no longer. " "It seemed to grow stronger in sunlight," Yama said. He had the horrible thought that whoever had fired at the hell-hound with a pistol would have fed its strength.
Ancients of Days: The Second Book of Confluence by Paul J. McAuley