By Paul J. McAuley
On a synthetic 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 final 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 wishes.
In the dirt of many crumbling bureaucracies, Yama searches for an identification and a history-awed and petrified of his ever-growing potential to rouse the negative machines of destruction that his world's absent gods left napping. To the typical folk-the unshaped and aboriginal-he is the achievement of age-old prophecies. To the functionaries of the dept of Indigenous Affairs, he's a weapon to be molded and utilized in the bloody civil warfare raging on the planet's midpoint-a probably unending conflict that pits those that revere the Preservers' legislation opposed to the damaging Heretics who may obliterate all antiquated values and codes of behavior.
But there are nonetheless others who've taken become aware of of Yama as he pursues the hidden secrets and techniques of his earlier. clever powers older than the Builders-as previous, might be, because the Preservers themselves -are pursuing Yama in flip. and they'll cease at not anything to regulate his present-and, for that 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
The mote of cold blue light dropped from the side of the tower, drifting down like a leaf. " "I do not think so. It has discovered that I am no longer where it thought I would be. " "I do not think it can be killed by rifle fire, nor even by the discharge of an energy pistol. " Yama remembered that the woman who had appeared in the shrine of the Temple of the Black Well had told him that there were dangerous things beyond the bounds of the garden she had created. He was certain now that the hell-hound was one of the creatures she had feared.
Something like a snake rose up, a pale, glistening rope that sinuously elongated in the air. It caught hold of the middle of the bridge's high arch for a moment, then fell back. " There was a note of pleading in his voice now. Yama did not trust the gambler. His ready smile and quick wit seemed assumed, a mask, an act. He said, "Before we move on, Magon, tell me how you know who I am. " Magon said, "Of course not. Please, dominie, we must go. " His calm, knowing pose had dissolved. His hands writhed in a knot before his chest.
Kun Norbu gave Yama a shrewd look and said, "You cannot try and pretend that you are ordinary, Yama. And your wound has been bleeding recently. At least allow me to have someone look at it, and to recommend that Eliphas look after you. " After Yama and Eliphas had eaten, Eliphas filled the bowl of a long-stemmed clay pipe with aromatic tobacco, lit it, and puffed on it contentedly. Yama asked him where he had found the passage he had quoted. "It was on a scrap of paper which someone had torn from a book an age ago and used to jot down the addition of a bill of small goods.
Ancients of Days: The Second Book of Confluence by Paul J. McAuley