The Veiled Throne

With the invasion of Dara complete, and the Wall of Storms breached, the world has opened to new possibilities for the gods and peoples of both empires as the sweeping saga of the award-winning Dandelion Dynasty continues in this third book of the "magnificent fantasy epic" (NPR).

Princess Théra, once known as Empress Üna of Dara, entrusted the throne to her younger brother in order to journey to Ukyu-Gondé to war with the Lyucu. She has crossed the fabled Wall of Storms with a fleet of advanced warships and ten thousand people. Beset by adversity, Théra and her most trusted companions attempt to overcome every challenge by doing the most interesting thing. But is not letting the past dictate the present always possible or even desirable?

In Dara, the Lyucu leadership as well as the surviving Dandelion Court bristle with rivalries as currents of power surge and ebb and perspectives spin and shift. Here, parents and children, teachers and students, Empress and Pékyu, all nurture the seeds of plans that will take years to bloom. Will tradition yield to new justifications for power?

Everywhere, the spirit of innovation dances like dandelion seeds on the wind, and the commoners, the forgotten, the ignored begin to engineer new solutions for a new age.

Ken Liu returns to the series that draws from a tradition of the great epics of our history from the Aeneid to the Romance on the Three Kingdoms and builds a new tale unsurpassed in its scope and ambition.

"Liu’s characters are a delight, the worldbuilding is unusual and impeccable, and the writing is smooth and luminous. This tale of divided loyalties, deadly ambition, and “silkpunk” technology delivers enough excitement and sense of wonder to enchant any fan of epic fantasy."

Autorentext

Ken Liu is an award-winning American author of speculative fiction. His collection, The Paper Menagerie and Other Stories, has been published in more than a dozen languages. Liu’s other works include The Grace of Kings, The Wall of Storms, The Veiled Throne, a second collection The Hidden Girl and Other Stories, and the forthcoming Julia Z series. He has been involved in multiple media adaptations of his work, including the short story “Good Hunting,” adapted as an episode in Netflix’s animated series Love, Death + Robots; and AMC’s Pantheon, adapted from an interconnected series of short stories. “The Hidden Girl,” “The Message,” and “The Oracle” have also been optioned for development. Liu previously worked as a software engineer, corporate lawyer, and litigation consultant. He frequently speaks at conferences and universities on topics including futurism, machine-augmented creativity, the history of technology, and the value of storytelling. Liu lives with his family near Boston, Massachusetts.

Leseprobe
Chapter One: A Night Run CHAPTER ONE A NIGHT RUN
TATEN, THE SEAT OF THE PÉKYU OF THE LYUCU IN UKYU-GONDÉ: THE FIFTH MONTH IN THE TWELFTH YEAR AFTER STRANGERS FROM AFAR ARRIVED IN THEIR CITY-SHIPS, CLAIMING TO SERVE SOMEONE NAMED "MAPIDÉRÉ" (BY DARA RECKONING, THIS IS THE FIFTH MONTH IN THE FIRST YEAR IN THE REIGN OF FOUR PLACID SEAS, WHEN KUNI GARU PROCLAIMED HIMSELF EMPEROR RAGIN AND ESTABLISHED HIS CAPITAL IN REBUILT PAN).

The stars pulsed in the firmament like glowing jellies in a dark sea. The eternal surf sighed in the distance as the almost-full moon's pale light illuminated a field of tents as far as the eye could see, each as white as the belly of a corpse-plucker crab.

Goztan Ryoto staggered out of one of the larger tents, a thin pelt tunic draped over her shoulders and a skull helmet dangling from her hand. The tent's garinafin-hide flap fell back heavily against the frame, muffling the angry curses and din of clashing bone clubs inside. She swayed on her feet as she tried to regain her balance.

"Steady, votan!" One of the two guards standing by the tent opening rushed up to support her lord. Casting a glance back at the tent flap, the guard asked, "Do you want us to-"

Goztan shoved her away. "No. Let 'em fight. I've had enough of them slinging insults at each other over dinner like children-can't even have a drink in peace." She struggled to pull the skull helmet over her clean-shaven head.

"I'm guessing you won't summon any of them to your bed tonight?" asked the other guard. "It's too bad. Kitan took a bath earlier today"-she lifted her eyebrows suggestively-"and he made sure we knew it."

Both guards laughed.

Goztan glared at them through the eye sockets of the skull helmet. "I'd love to see either of you try maintaining a peaceful household with four husbands."

Something crashed to the ground inside the tent; a furious howl of pain followed.

The guards looked at each other but remained where they were.

Goztan shook her head in exasperation. The cool breeze had cleared her head of kyoffir-haze, and after a moment, she said, "I'm taking a walk. The audience with the pékyu is first thing tomorrow, and I need to plan out what I want to say. Keep an eye on them; intervene only if Kitan's head is about to be bashed in."

"It is a very handsome head," said one of the guards.

They lifted the tent flap and ducked in, eager to witness the domestic drama among the chief's consorts.

Goztan strode aimlessly through the wide avenues between the tent-halls of Taten, her face flushed from rage and embarrassment. Despite the bright moonlight and the cool breeze, few of the thanes and warriors gathered in the Thanes' Quarter were walking about, for evening was a time reserved for the fire pit and ancestral portraits, for family and kyoffir. For a tiger-thane like Goztan, the chief of the Five Tribes of the Antler, roaming alone through the tent-city at this hour instead of spending time with her spouses was a choice bound to rouse gossip. Although the skull helmet covered her face, it was still too distinctive to make her completely anonymous.

Goztan was beyond caring.

She began to run, her legs pumping faster as her breath deepened and steadied. The skull helmet isolated her from the world at large, and her breathing resonated in her ears like the crash of the distant surf. At twenty-nine, she was in prime fighting shape, stronger and deadlier than she had been during the years when she had fought most of her battles. The sensation of boundless strength coursing through her limbs and the rhythmic slapping of her bare, calloused feet against the ground calmed her until, g