By Eric Flint, Andrew Dennis
Rome, 1635, and Grantville's diplomatic group, headed through Sharon Nichols, are making scant headway now it has turn into politically inexpedient for Pope city VIII to speak to them any longer. Sharon doesn't brain, she has a marriage to plot. Frank Stone has moved to Rome and is trying to result in the revolution one pizza at a time. Cardinal Borja is amassing votes to carry the Church's reformers to a halt of their tracks, at the orders of the King of Spain. in the meantime, difficulty is brewing within the streets, shadowy agitators are stirring up hassle and Spain's armies are massed around the border within the state of Naples, Cardinal Barberini desires the pamphleteers to forestall slandering him and it feels like it's going to be an extended, scorching summer season. other than that Cardinal Borja has extra goals than his masters in Madrid learn about, and has the help of Spain's so much infamous undercover agent to result in his sinister designs.
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Additional resources for 1635: The Cannon Law (Assiti Shards)
The wind clattering at the louvers were the time winds. Here was "The Monsters of Planet Plattner," with a dreadful creature displayed in the great, spherical visiplate, above the levers and dials of the controls. Here was a thrilling underwater realm of aqua people with fins and gills, riding great fish. Here was a cover and story that truly had terrified his nightmare mind: "The Quest for Crystal Q," with its little oriental men rising out of the stark landscape inside hidden glass-and-steel watch-towers that resembled mushrooms, their great sucker weapons flung out to capture Brick, snapping on to his back and clinging like those leeches in the warm summer dam water, ugh.
The bubble seemed to clear as Sylvie performed prodigies of transformation in the map state-space. The saucer icon hung in the center of the display, surrounded by grid lines, astronomical reference points, indices of the planets and moons and asteroids and dust lanes of the Solar System, with a muted icon showing the Sun altogether too close for comfort. Five attack craft moved on vectors that were not at all encouraging. A list of the weapons being deployed snapped down as Jan ran her eye from one enemy vessel to the next.
The cooked limb resisted at the joint. I twisted it, fingers sticky with monster juice, tore it free. It smelled okay, a bit gamy perhaps. I took a bite. "Needs salt," I said. The Ensemble woman regarded me with disgust. "That was a damn fool thing to do. You don't know where it's been. You don't know where it's come from. " Lune threw something; I caught it in my left hand. Salt cellar. I sprinkled some on the warm flesh, took a second bite. "Thanks. Care for some? " "I think not," she said judiciously.
1635: The Cannon Law (Assiti Shards) by Eric Flint, Andrew Dennis