By J. Gregory Keyes
1722: A moment darkish Age looms. An asteroid has devastated the Earth, referred to as down through dire creatures who plot opposed to the realm of guys. The brilliant-- a few say mad--Isaac Newton has taken safe haven in old Prague. There, together with his younger apprentice Ben Franklin, he plumbs the secrets and techniques of the aetheric beings who've so approximately destroyed humanity.But their protection is tenuous. Peter the good marches his unstoppable forces throughout Europe. And part an international away, Cotton Mather and Blackbeard the pirate gather a celebration of colonial luminaries to move the Atlantic and become aware of what has befallen the previous international. With them sails crimson sneakers, a Choctaw shaman whose mysterious connections to the invisible global warn him that they're all relocating towards a disagreement as violent because it is decisive . . .
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Extra info for A Calculus of Angels (The Age of Unreason, Book 2)
5. London “Goddamn,” Blackbeard muttered, tugging at his braided beard, and then more forcefully, "Goddamn. " The pirate shook his fists at the coastline. Red Shoes stared at the brackish mudflat, verdigris with sickly and crouching scrub, trying to understand what the problem was. It bothered him that there were no trees anywhere—it was alien to his eye—but he had gathered in his time among Europeans that trees were scarce in Europe. “The longitude and the latitude are correct,” Thomas Nairne insisted.
They huddled beneath canvas tarps on that plain, glum and almost without conversation. Near midnight the rain finally stopped, and he stepped into the damp air, carefully placed a measure of Ancient Tobacco in his pipe, and filled his lungs with living smoke. Eyes closed, he chanted lightly beneath his breath, opening his ghost eyes and ears, searching. At first nothing came, but then a distant chittering. He stayed at the edge of it, not wanting them to notice him. Over the years he had become good at listening without being heard, a mouse, and had thus learned a great deal about spirits.
It looked more like a wall than a mountain, an almost perfectly regular line against the sky, cutting nearly the whole horizon. As they approached it, the stone beneath their feet turned up gradually to meet the slightly serrated line, and then ever more sharply. The stone itself was blistered, in places glassy. ” Thomas Nairne asked quietly. The older man shook his head almost imperceptibly. Sweat stood out on his brow, and Red Shoes wondered if it was from exertion or fear. “At least we can see what happened to the river,” du Rue offered.