By Felix Gilman
A fantastical reimagining of the yankee West which attracts its effect from steampunk, the yank western culture, and magical realism
The international is barely part made. What exists has been carved out amidst a battle among rival factions: the road, paving the realm with and claiming its citizens as slaves; and the Gun, a cult of terror and violence that cripples the inhabitants with worry. the one desire at preventing them has doubtless disappeared—the purple Republic that when battled the Gun and the road, and virtually received. Now they’re only a fable, a bedtime tale mom and dad inform their youngsters, of wish.
To the west lies an unlimited, uncharted global, inhabited basically via the legends of the immortal and robust Hill humans, who dwell at one with the earth and its parts. Liv Alverhyusen, a physician of the hot technology of psychology, travels to the sting of the made international to a spiritually safe psychological establishment so that it will examine the minds of these damaged by way of the Gun and the road. In its rooms lies an previous basic of the crimson Republic, a guy whose shattered brain simply could carry the key to preventing the Gun and the road. And both sides will do something to appreciate how.
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Additional resources for The Half-Made World
Echoed Arkan. She waved at him to be silent. ‘Your father chose to carry warning to the humans in the south. He had been the first to recognize the danger Delekhan and The Six were to our people, but knew he could not find allies enough among the clans to oppose them. So he sought those to the south who might be able to stop Delekhan. ’ Arkan wanted to ask a question, but he remained silent. ’ Arkan stared at her. None of this was widely known. ’ ‘Narab,’ she said. ‘When Narab killed Delekhan’s son and rose to take command of Clan Badger, he needed to make peace with me.
Their clans had never merged while her husband lived, but with Delekhan’s death she had deftly integrated the Badgers into the Snow Leopards. She was now the only force among the moredhel with enough power to thwart Narab. A warrior motioned for him to dismount as he reached his aunt’s tent, a sprawling thing divided into several segments by cleverly hung curtains. Inside, across an expanse of fine wool rugs, Liallan reclined on a pile of furs wearing travel garb made from the costliest of materials.
No more than usual,’ said the warrior in charge of the post with a wry chuckle. He extended his hand. ’ ‘Let’s hope our aunt feels the same,’ answered Arkan, taking his arm. Each gripped the other’s wrist. ’ Arkan didn’t try to hide his surprise. ’ With a slight smile the broad-shouldered fighter nodded once. ‘Head straight to the split in the trail, then right to the small clearing above the main camp. ’ Helmon was correct: Arkan found the pavilion he sought with ease. A great tent had been erected on a plateau overlooking the largest encampment in the area.