By J. Gregory Keyes
1722: A moment darkish Age looms. An asteroid has devastated the Earth, known as down by means of dire creatures who plot opposed to the area of guys. The brilliant-- a few say mad--Isaac Newton has taken shelter in historical Prague. There, along with his younger apprentice Ben Franklin, he plumbs the secrets and techniques of the aetheric beings who've so approximately destroyed humanity.But their safeguard is tenuous. Peter the nice 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 notice what has befallen the previous global. With them sails pink footwear, a Choctaw shaman whose mysterious connections to the invisible international warn him that they're all relocating towards a disagreement as violent because it is decisive . . .
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Additional resources for A Calculus of Angels (The Age of Unreason, Book 2)
She curtsied, though Ben thought he detected something faintly mocking in her carriage. ” “And please call me Ben. ” “I understand that, sir,” she said, strolling over to the wardrobe. “I should think you would want some black and red. Red hose, of course…” “I had thought to wear white hose,” Ben murmured, studying her back, wondering what sort of shape was beneath those petticoats, if it was fairer than her face. God often rewarded in some areas what he had penalized in others. She seemed a bit on the slim side.
Well, Mr. Frisk,” Ben said, “again, we are in your debt. If there is some way I can compensate you…” “I must admit,” Frisk said, “that my decision to aid you was not without some selfinterest. As I said, I gathered from your would-be attackers that you were men of no small importance…” Robert chuckled. “We are not so important as we think we are,” he joked, glancing meaningfully at Ben. Robert didn’t trust the fellow either. Still, if he was honest, they did owe the man a debt. If he wasn’t, it might be better to have him near, where his movements could be watched, rather than plotting unseen in the deeper labyrinth of Prague.
How far would they have to go to find game? It didn’t really matter. He had spent a month in the town of Philadelphia, waiting for the ships to be provisioned and the winter to pass. He had busied himself studying maps, reading books, improving his English. But English towns were claustrophobic, and he still had months yet to spend there. Merely being outside was worth the bitter cold—and the simple fact was that Bienville had not asked him hunting for the purpose of hunting, either, but to talk.