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Zusatztext "The novel's worldbuilding is phenomenal...its female characters are particularly well-rendered...An ambitious novel set in a richly imagined world." Informationen zum Autor Cassandra Rose Clarke is the author of Star Trek: Prodigy: A Dangerous Trade , Star Trek: The Next Generation: Shadows Have Offended , Our Lady of the Ice , Magic of Blood and Sea , Magic of Wind and Mist , Star’s End , Halo: Battle Born , and Halo: Battle Born: Meridian Divide . She grew up in south Texas and currently lives in Richmond, Virginia, where she tends to multiple cats. Cassandra’s first adult novel, The Mad Scientist’s Daughter , was a finalist for the 2013 Philip K. Dick Award, and her YA novel, The Assassin’s Curse , was nominated for YALSA’s 2014 Best Fiction for Young Adults. Her short fiction has appeared in Strange Horizons and Daily Science Fiction . Visit her at CassandraRoseClarke.com. Klappentext "A female P.I. comes into conflict with a ruthless gangster just as both humans and robots agitate for independence in a domed Argentinian colony in Antarctica."--Provided by publisher.Our Lady of the Ice CHAPTER ONE DIEGO The old clock tower in the center of the city rang out eight times, and that meant the last ship to the mainland was leaving for the winter. Diego lit a cigarette to commemorate the occasion. Out on the balcony, Eliana leaned over the railing and screamed out the hours with a mad sort of desperation. So did everyone else in the smokestack district, their voices drowning out the clock tower’s distant gongs. When the crowd roared “eight” and the clock tower fell silent, fires erupted out of the metal barrels lining the curb, the band struck their first note, and people poured out of the tenement housing onto the narrow, winding streets. Last Night had begun. Eliana dropped away from the railing, picked up her beer bottle, spun in place in a lazy cumbia. Her wavy dark hair skimmed across the top of her shoulders. Diego dragged on his cigarette and watched her, the light from the fires catching on the sparkles in her dress. “You didn’t count,” Eliana said, shuffling up to him. The desperation was gone; now sadness tinged the edge of her voice, nothing more. “I never count.” Diego swigged from his beer bottle. “Don’t see the point.” She stopped dancing. Her skin was already dewed with sweat—they always turned the heat up on Last Night, one final indulgence before the winter. Diego wanted to lick that sweat away. He’d spend the whole night on this balcony with just her if he thought he could convince her to stay, no parties or parades or any of that bullshit. But Eliana had always wanted to see the mainland. It was one of the first things he’d learned about her. And he knew she was exactly the sort of person Last Night was for. It wasn’t a celebration; it was a wake. Another year gone by, and she was still stuck in the domes, still stuck in the ice. “You want to go down to the street?” Eliana asked. No, thought Diego, but he knew that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “Sure.” He grinned. “They’ve got the fires going, and I want to get you out of those clothes sooner rather than later.” “I’m hardly wearing anything right now!” “Exactly.” Eliana laughed, covering up her sadness. Diego grabbed her by the hand and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. She pressed her cheek against his chest, and for a moment they swayed together, out of time to the music floating up from the street. “You want to follow the parade this year?” he asked into her hair, already knowing the answer. “I told Maria a...
