The Faded Sun: Shon'Jir

The Faded Sun: Shon'Jir

Language: French

Pages: 409

ISBN: 2720101702

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


OPTA Club du Livre d'Anticipation n° 94 (1983) - Carolyn J. CHERRYH Soleil mort - Shon' Jir - Traduction René Lathière (The Faded Sun : Shon' Jir) - Illustrations Gérard Duboscq -TL 3030 exemplaires

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crossed the ground beside the causeway, seeking the nether side of some rock to protect itself from the sun and from predators. The jo waited, patiently, for its appointed prey. w. A B B Y Y.c om Y F T ra n sf o A B B Y Y.c bu to re he C lic k he k lic C w. om w w w w rm y ABB PD re to Y 2.0 2.0 bu y rm er Y F T ra n sf o ABB PD er Y Such things Niun had taught Duncan to see. Across the mineral flats, in the wreckage wrought by the fighting, a geyser plumed, a

a whole breath, reckoning humanity at Kesrith base safe for the moment, poised on the knife's edge of safety that Stavros had prepared, cultivating the reverence bai Hulagh. And absenting the mri, who rested now, secretly, in the belly of a very vulnerable and very small outbound probe. Remain invisible, he mentally read the wish that came with that relayed message, a communication they dared not send him in other terms now. He reckoned himself well-placed reckoned with grudging admiration that

cheerfully. He had known; somewhere in the drug-dazed depth of him, he had sensed the other presence, calming and drawing at him. Two dusei, and one with Melein, who had been of the Kel, who still might touch one of the beasts. It was a long walk, the longest that he had tried; he thrust himself from the wall w. A B B Y Y.c om Y F T ra n sf o A B B Y Y.c bu to re he C lic k he k lic C w. om w w w w rm y ABB PD re to Y 2.0 2.0 bu y rm er Y F T ra n sf o ABB PD er

it mattered. At times he spoke chants, and insisted Duncan repeat them, learn them: Duncan listlessly complied, to have peace, to be let alone eventually, endless chains of names and begettings and words . that meant nothing to him. He cared little pitied the mri, finally, who poured his history, his myths, into such a failing vessel. He felt himself on the downward side of a curve, the battle won too late. He could no longer keep food down; his limbs grew weak; he grew thin as the mri, and more

for surely there was strangeness even in Niun and Melein, the fineness of then clothing, the zahen'ein that they bore with the yin'ein, the different style of the zaidhe, with its dark plastic visor and careful folding, while their own were mere squares and twists of cloth, and their veils were twisted into the head-cloths, and not fastened to the metal band that theirs had. Hems were ragged, sleeves frayed. Their weapon hilts were in bone and lacquered fiber, while those of Niun were of brass

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