Lord of Light
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“Funny, wise, and infused with a sense of wonder and knowledge….Nobody else made myths real and valuable in the way Roger Zelazny could.”
Lord of Light is a classic tale of the far future from the incomparable Roger Zelazny. Winner of the Hugo Award—one of six Zelazny received over the course of his legendary career, as well as three Nebula Awards and numerous other honors—Lord of Light stands with Joe Haldeman’s The Forever War and Frank Herbert’s Dune as one of the seminal novels that changed the way readers looked at science fiction. Experience it and you will understand why New York Times bestselling sf author Greg Bear says, “Reading Zelazny is like dropping into a Mozart string quartet as played by Thelonius Monk.”
spend some time in meditation, goddess." "Upon what shall you meditate?" "Upon my past lives and the mistakes they each contained. I must review my own tactics as well as those of the enemy." "Yama thinks the Golden Cloud to have changed you." "Perhaps it has." "He believes it to have softened you, weakened you. You have always posed as a mystic, but now he believes you have become one — to your own undoing, to our undoing." He shook his head, turned around. But he did not see her. Stood
said the first. "I have heard that even the priests did not know of her coming." "That may be. Whatever the case, it would seem a good omen." "So it would seem." They passed through another archway, and Tak listened to the sounds of their going until there was only silence. Still, he did not leave his perch. The "she" referred to by the monks could only be the goddess Ratri herself, worshiped by the order that had given sanctuary to the followers of Great-Souled Sam, the Enlightened One.
failed." There were more explosions. "Hellwell is being destroyed," said Taraka. Perspiration upon his brow, Sam waited with his hand on the lever. "He comes now—Agni!" Sam looked through the long, slanted shield plate. The Lord of Flames came into the valley. "Good-bye, Siddhartha." "Not yet," said Sam. Agni looked at the chariot, raised his wand. Nothing happened. He stood, pointing the wand; and then he lowered it, shook it. He raised it once more. Again, no flame issued forth.
as a man, Sam, that I wield my Attribute and engage in actual plunder." "You must be able to take on your Aspect now." "Of course." "And raise up your Attribute?" "Probably." "But you will not?" "Not while I wear the form of woman. As a man, I will undertake to steal anything from anywhere. . .. See there, upon the far wall, where some of my trophies are hung? The great blue-feather cloak belonged to Srit, Chief among the Kataputna demons. I stole it from out his cave as his hellhounds
The friction of this crossing grates upon thy spine. . . . "Strike!" said Sam, and Kubera smiled and hit him. He lay there quivering, and the voices of the night, compounded of insect sounds and the wind and the sighing of grasses came to him. Tremble, like the last loosening leaf of the year. There is a lump of ice in thy chest. There are no words within thy brain, only the colors of panic move there. . . . Sam shook his head and rose to his knees. Fall again, curl thyself into a ball and