Joan D. Vinge - Snow Queen 2 - World's End

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WORLD'S END [071-142-066-4.6]

By: JOAN D. VINGE

Category: Fiction Science Fiction

Synopsis:

Volume 2 in the Snow Queen Cycle Now at last, Joan D. Vinge, best selling

author of The Return of the Jedi Storybook, returns to the universe of

her award-winning Snow Queen, with a novel as dazzling, as compelling,

as the "future classic" (Arthur C. Clarke). BZ Gundhalinu, police

officer of the Hegemony, member of the elite "tech" class of the ruling

planet Kharemough, left the planet Tiamat before the Stargate closed,

cutting himself off forever from the simple barbarian girl who gave him

back his sense of self worth. Moon Dawntreader Summer is now the Summer

Queen, and BZ knows he can never again be her lover. But the strict

Kharemoughi codes of honor have made him an outcast, too, and he selects

a remote outpost of the Hegemony for his new assignment: Four, a planet

where the police work is tough and never-ending, and where he can try to

forget. Four boasts great mineral wealth, which attracts all the rogues

and ruffians of the universe to the vast, uncharted wilderness known as

World's End. Travellers to that region allude to unimaginable horrors,

but few actually return to speak of it. World's End has swallowed up

countless numbers of prospectors, including BZ's brothers. When BZ's

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obsession with Moon and his concern for his family interfere with the

performance of his duties, he is granted leave and he sets out for

World's End. His quest: to rescue his brothers from the wilderness and

restore the family's lost honor and lost wealth. But something else is

calling him. A sibyl has told him about the ruined city ofSanctuary , on

the edge ofFireLake . A mysterious force is at work there, a force that

disrupts the fabric of space and time, a force that may yield up the

secrets of Old Empire technology. But before BZ can unlock the puzzle,

he must face the evil deep inside himself-- and in breathtaking passages

of sheer storytelling power, Vinge makes WORLD'S END an extraordinary

novel of one man's search for himself--his soul --his love--and his

destiny.

Last printing:09/03/02

`>334' JOAN D. VINGE reached the top of

national bestseller lists in 1983 with The

Return of the Jedi Storybook. Her novel The Snow Queen (1980) won the Hugo

Award for Best Science Fiction NOVEL,

and established her as a major novelist.

She lives in Chappaqua, Mew York, and

maintains close ties to her hometown,

San Diego,California.

Cover painting by Leo and Diane Dillon Jacket design by Gregory K. Wilkin 'Bl

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BLUEJAY BOOKS IMG.

James Frenkel, Publisher

Distributed bySt. Martin 's Press 2/84

Books by Joan D. Vinge

The Outcasts of Heaven's Belt

Fireship

Eyes of Amber and Other Stories (collection)

The Snow Queen

Psion

Worlds's End

Phoenixin the Ashes (collection)

A Bluejay Book

Fforthcoming

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JOAN D. VINGE

BLUEJAY BOOKS INC.

A Bluejay Book, published by arrangement with the

Author.

Jacket art and endpaper art (collector's edition only) by

Leo and Diane Dillon

reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,

electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,

recording, or by any information storage or retrieval

system, without the express written permission of the

Publisher, except where permitted by law. For

information, contact Bluejay Books Inc., 130 West

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Forty-second Street,New York,New York ; 10036.

Manufactured in theUnited States of America

First Bluejay printing: February 1984

Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data

Vinge, Joan D.

World's end.

I. Title.

PS3572.I53W6 1984 8i3'-54 83-21374

ISBN: 0-5709-312-04468-3

ISBN 0-312-94469-1 (limed.)

for jim,

my dearest friend and severest critic . . .

who made me follow this journey to its end.

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"The mind of man is capable of anything--because everything

is in it, all the past as well as all the future."

Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness

"Nothing of him that cloth fade

But cloth suffer a sea-change

Into something rich and strange."

William Shakespeare, The Tempest

"Shall I bring the prisoners to your office, Inspector?"

the voice from his desk speaker asked him.

And again, when he didn't answer, "Inspector

Gundhalinu?"

Gundhalinu turned away from the high window at

last, from the view of Foursgate shrouded in mist, the

rococo pattern of rain tracks on the glass. He had been

looking at the Pantheon; it was just visible from where

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his office lay, its multiple domes of azure and gold ceramic

half obscured by newer, more graceful structures.

He took an antique watch from his pocket, glancing

absently at the time . . . looking at the watch itself,

turning it over andover for the feel of its comfortable

familiarity in his hand. He sighed. The hour was getting

late--but not late enough that he could postpone this

final duty for another day.

Besides, he had no more days left. The ceremonies at

the Pantheon were due to begin today at sunset, and

they would drag on through half of tomorrow. Crowds

were gathering there already . . . gathering from all over

Number Four to see him. The thought made him grimace.

These were only the first of too many ceremonies

that he would have to wade through, like streams, on the

way to where he wanted to go.

He had put off the meaningless honors, the public

displays of adoration, for as long as possible, using his

wound and his weakness as excuses. But he had spent

JOAN D. VINGE

the hard-won privacy of his convalescence working

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obsessively, trying to put what was left of his personal

life in order before he became public property forever.

He knew what he would see if he faced himself in a

mirror; he had not gone near one since his release from

the hospital. But he had endured far worse things than

his own reflection too recently to let it bother him, or

stop him. There had been no time for weakness, or pain,

or doubt . . . there never would be again.

He moved back to his desk. His hand reached for the

speaker plate at last; hesitated, as more seconds slipped

by. The judgment he was about to pass was only a formality, a decision made weeks ago concerning an

act that

should have been done years ago. And yet... he needed

more time.

He touched the speaker-plate. "Ossidge. I'm still reviewing

the evidence. I'll let you know when I'm ready."

"Right, Inspector." There was no discernible emotion

in the disembodied voice, even though his sergeant had

been waiting for more than an hour down in the detention

wing. Ossidge was a phlegmatic lump, stolid and

unquestioning. Gundhalinu tried to imagine what Ossidge

would make of World's End, or what it would

make of him. The irresistible force and the immovable

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object. But then, he couldn't imagine that Ossidge

would ever even dream of making that trip; making the

Big Mistake. . . .

He dropped into the seductive softness of his desk

chair, letting it re-form around him. Just for a moment.

. . . Just for a moment adrenaline stopped spilling into

his bloodstream, and he was vulnerable. If he could only

close his eyes, empty his mind and meditate, have one

uninterrupted moment of peace, before . . . He pushed

himself up out of his seat angrily, wincing as the abrupt

motion hurt the half-healed wound on his side. He

WORLD S END

forced the pain out of his mind, as he had done over and

over again for the past month.

He needed this time, this final stolen hour, for something

more important than rest. So much had changed,

and was about to change, in his life. He needed time to

remember who he was.

He touched his belt buckle, pressing the hidden

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speaker button on its built-in recorder. The recorder had

a direct memory feed, which he had used when he had

kept the journal--to keep it private, pointless mental

digressions and all. But now he left it on voice, hearing

it mimic his own speech, the sounds familiar yet sufficiently

distorted to seem almost impersonal.

The voice said, "Today I arrived at World's End...."

He turned back to the window, frowning at the rain

tracks on the pane. Rain again. Doesn 't it ever stop? But he

knew the answer. No more than time does. He sat down on

the deep sill, resting his forehead against the glass, letting

the utter exhaustion of his body and mind hold him

there. He watched as his breath condensed into fog,

obliterating the present, and felt the empty room behind

him fill up with ghosts.

day i.

Today I arrived at World's End. It's still difficult

for me even to believe I'm thinking those words.

But I've decided to record everything I experience

here, as completely as possible. The notes of a reasonably

objective observer can only be an improvement

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摘要：

WORLD'SEND[071-142-066-4.6] By:JOAND.VINGE Category:FictionScienceFiction Synopsis: Volume2intheSnowQueenCycleNowatlast,JoanD.Vinge,bestsellingauthorofTheReturnoftheJediStorybook,returnstotheuniverseofheraward-winningSnowQueen,withanovelasdazzling,ascompelling,asthe"futureclassic"(ArthurC.Clarke).BZ...

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Joan D. Vinge - Snow Queen 2 - World's End

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