Genre Fiction
![Rebecca Roanhorse - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_a_rebecca_roanhorse.jpg)
Tread of Angels
Celeste, a card sharp with a need for justice, takes on the role of advocatus diaboli, to defend her sister Mariel, accused of murdering a Virtue, a member of the ruling class of this mining town, in a new world of dark fantasy from the New York Times bestselling author of Black Sun, Rebecca Roanhorse.
The year is 1883 and the mining town of Goetia is booming as prospectors from near and far come to mine the powerful new element Divinity from the high mountains of Colorado with the help of the pariahs of society known as the Fallen. The Fallen are the descendants of demonkind living amongst the Virtues, the winners in an ancient war, with the descendants of both sides choosing to live alongside Abaddon's mountain in this tale of the mythological West from the bestselling mastermind Rebecca Roanhorse.
The year is 1883 and the mining town of Goetia is booming as prospectors from near and far come to mine the powerful new element Divinity from the high mountains of Colorado with the help of the pariahs of society known as the Fallen. The Fallen are the descendants of demonkind living amongst the Virtues, the winners in an ancient war, with the descendants of both sides choosing to live alongside Abaddon's mountain in this tale of the mythological West from the bestselling mastermind Rebecca Roanhorse.
Editorial Reviews
"Rebecca Roanhorse… [is one] of the Indigenous novelists reshaping North American science fiction, horror and fantasy - genres in which Native writers have long been overlooked." ― The New York Times
"Readers are in for intricate world-building, engrossing adventure and stunning backdrops." ― The Washington Post
"The pages turn themselves. A beautifully crafted setting with complex character dynamics and layers of political intrigue? Perfection. Mark your calendars, this is the next big thing." -- Kirkus, starred review
"A must read for fans of N.K. Jemisin's epic fantasy and those who love George R. R. Martin's Song of Ice and Fire series but want more diverse worlds." ― Booklist
"Roanhorse introduces an epic fantasy with vivid worldbuilding and exciting prose. Readers will be attracted to the story, in which there is no real right vs. wrong. Only inevitable change will draw out the heroes of this imaginative tale." -- Library Journal, starred review
"I emerged from Black Sun bleary-eyed, tongue-tied, heart-swollen. This is a brilliant world that shows the full panoply of human grace and depravity. Rebecca Roanhorse is the epic voice of our continent and time."-Ken Liu, award-winning author of The Grace of Kings, and The Hidden Girl and Other Stories.
"This is the novel I've been waiting for. This is the novel we've all been waiting for. Everything's different now, with Black Sun. Different and better. Stands shoulder to shoulder with the very best fantasy out there. There's Martin, there's Jemisin, and now there's Roanhorse."-Stephen Graham Jones, award-winning author of The Only Good Indians, and Mongrels
"Absolutely tremendous. Roanhorse knocks it out of the park again with an epic tale about duty and destiny that will sweep readers away and broaden the horizons of an entire genre."-S.A. Chakraborty, nationally bestselling author of The City of Brass.
"An intricately layered, sprawling and fabulously dark epic fantasy of political intrigue, power and revenge. Enthralling, beautiful and heartwrenching."-Aliette de Bodard, Ne...
"Readers are in for intricate world-building, engrossing adventure and stunning backdrops." ― The Washington Post
"The pages turn themselves. A beautifully crafted setting with complex character dynamics and layers of political intrigue? Perfection. Mark your calendars, this is the next big thing." -- Kirkus, starred review
"A must read for fans of N.K. Jemisin's epic fantasy and those who love George R. R. Martin's Song of Ice and Fire series but want more diverse worlds." ― Booklist
"Roanhorse introduces an epic fantasy with vivid worldbuilding and exciting prose. Readers will be attracted to the story, in which there is no real right vs. wrong. Only inevitable change will draw out the heroes of this imaginative tale." -- Library Journal, starred review
"I emerged from Black Sun bleary-eyed, tongue-tied, heart-swollen. This is a brilliant world that shows the full panoply of human grace and depravity. Rebecca Roanhorse is the epic voice of our continent and time."-Ken Liu, award-winning author of The Grace of Kings, and The Hidden Girl and Other Stories.
"This is the novel I've been waiting for. This is the novel we've all been waiting for. Everything's different now, with Black Sun. Different and better. Stands shoulder to shoulder with the very best fantasy out there. There's Martin, there's Jemisin, and now there's Roanhorse."-Stephen Graham Jones, award-winning author of The Only Good Indians, and Mongrels
"Absolutely tremendous. Roanhorse knocks it out of the park again with an epic tale about duty and destiny that will sweep readers away and broaden the horizons of an entire genre."-S.A. Chakraborty, nationally bestselling author of The City of Brass.
"An intricately layered, sprawling and fabulously dark epic fantasy of political intrigue, power and revenge. Enthralling, beautiful and heartwrenching."-Aliette de Bodard, Ne...
Readers Top Reviews
Tina Hewitt
Roanhorse has written a fast-paced novella helmet by a heroine who is tenacious, loyal, brash, and vulnerable. Celeste will stop at nothing to help her sister even after finding out that she might not know her as well as she thinks. This is in the vein of P. Djeli Clark's A Dead Djinn in Cairo and The Haunting of Tram Car 015 where there is always something lurking behind the more obvious crime. Here, a sister must become sleuth and advocate, if she has any chance of proving her sister's innocence. But in Goetia, their Fallen heritage already counts against them. The world-building, characters, and plot are all well done and made the reader not want the story to end. The hints of the complexities of this world pointed to a very immersive fantasy if it had been developed further and surely would have satisfied as the ending came too abruptly, wrapped up too neatly. Even as it hinted at a continuation if the author so chooses. It is still a read I recommend.
Alixbamcooks
3.5 stars I have such mixed feelings about this book. I really liked the world the story took place in and the divisions between the Elect and the Fallen, but I had serious issues with the protagonist. She is stubborn, uses people, and is unwilling to face the truth. I also really disliked her actions at the end and the overall ending of this novella. It all felt a bit anti-climatic. I think there are a lot of elements in this story that could have been fleshed out more such as, the politics surrounding mining divinity, the romance, and the different Orders. This definitely could have been extended into a novel and there’s a lot of unique ideas where I could see this being expanded into a series. But, based on how I feel about the protagonist, I wouldn’t read another story featuring her.
joseph weiss
I hope that this book is the start of a new series by Rebecca Roanhorse. A very creative world imagined from the chaos of the legendary war between heaven and hell. It explores the range of behaviors that possibly define good and evil, or perhaps better yet, necessary and chosen.
Short Excerpt Teaser
Chapter 1 CHAPTER 1
It was the devil's hour on Aventum Angelorum, Goetia's own high holy day, and there was a black wind blowing off Tabor's mine. It slithered down the mountain past the places where the old gods of the continent had once held sway. It rolled through the mining town below, called Goetia, snatching hats off heads and shivering shoulders. It wormed its way through the holiday merrymakers on Perdition Street, whispering memories of heavenly war, of bright Lucifer's doomed defiance, and the sweet aftertaste of rebellion cloyed noses and mouths, making those who breathed it in discontent and covetous.
When it hit the Eden, Perdition Street's premiere gambling and drinking establishment, it nearly blew the place down. Wood hit sharp against wood as the front doors flew open, and the glass pane bearing the saloon's moniker cracked straight through. The ruckus drew startled screams and cries of drunken surprise from the patrons, masked faces turning to see what, or who, had entered. A few of the witchier clientele threw a hex to turn evil away, but there was enough vice already squatting in the Eden that whatever extra ungodliness the wind blew in didn't faze most of the regulars.
At first, Celeste Semyaza didn't even feel that old wind licking against her cheek. She was sitting in the dealer's chair at the faro table, focused on the game before her. But when the cards jumped up, kings and jack fools dancing wild in the sudden gale, she spread her hands across the cards to keep 'em down. The three players in front of her did the same, stretching arms and bodies over potential winners… and inevitable losers.
Hypatia, the owner of the Eden, six feet tall and built solid as one of those cursed-up mountains that encircled the town, rushed forward to secure the doors. She paused long enough to let a costumed couple slip through, the woman clutching the tip of a papier-mâché wing as the man, unsteady on high-heeled boots shaped like goat's feet, leaned into her. They stumbled to the bar, where Zeke, the resident bartender, awaited them. But Celeste didn't even notice them, already focused back on the card game.
"Place your bets," she told the players now that the wind had quieted down.
An Elect man sporting a bowler hat and an impressive yellow mustache held his bet, gesturing for the other players to go first. Celeste eyed him, suspicious. He wasn't one of her regulars, so she figured he must be in town for the holiday. Nothing unusual there, but he was worth keeping an eye on.
The man to Mustache's right bore the Mark of the Fallen, that telltale ring of gold around dark eyes and a pair of curling ram's horns. The Fallen man took the opportunity to lay down ten chips on the three of spades.
A mysterious woman in a wide-brimmed blue hat and matching veil extended a long-nailed hand to carefully set a dozen chips on the queen.
The revelry of the Eden had picked back up. The ill wind that had forced its way past the doors of paradise was quickly forgotten to the pleasure of gin slings and gambling. Somewhere nearby, a saloon girl laughed loudly.
The mustachioed man still hadn't laid his bet, and Celeste tapped her fingertips against the felt loudly.
"Where's that singer I heard about?" he asked with lazy indifference. His gaze flickered to the stage next to the piano on the far side of the room as his fingers tripped across a steadily shrinking stack of chips. "Heard she's a beauty with an impressive set of-"
"That's my sister." Celeste cut him off.
"-lungs." He glanced at the dealer, whistling low. "Well, I'll be. Mariel Semyaza's your sister? But you don't have the…" He touched a finger to his eye.
He wasn't the first to notice she didn't have the Mark and wouldn't be the last. "I favor our daddy."
His face scrunched up, puckered sour as a lemon. "A half-breed, then? Well, well."
Celeste kept a small dagger up her sleeve in a sheath attached to her forearm. It was an ingenious thing that Zeke had made for her, meant to shoot the blade down into her hand, hilt to palm, with just a twist of the wrist.
"Watch your tongue, Mister," she said, low and matter-of-fact, "assuming you want to keep it."
He had a dry, unpleasant kind of laugh, more wild dog than man. "Now, don't get your back up."
"Then don't talk about my sister."
"I'm only being friendly."
"I don't need friends. What I need you to do is place your bet."
He sucked at his teeth, fingers still idling over chips.
Finally, the woman in blue spoke, her voice a soft, sibilant hiss. "Place your bet or make room for someone who will. You're holding up the game."
The Fallen man grumbled in agreement, so with a pu...
It was the devil's hour on Aventum Angelorum, Goetia's own high holy day, and there was a black wind blowing off Tabor's mine. It slithered down the mountain past the places where the old gods of the continent had once held sway. It rolled through the mining town below, called Goetia, snatching hats off heads and shivering shoulders. It wormed its way through the holiday merrymakers on Perdition Street, whispering memories of heavenly war, of bright Lucifer's doomed defiance, and the sweet aftertaste of rebellion cloyed noses and mouths, making those who breathed it in discontent and covetous.
When it hit the Eden, Perdition Street's premiere gambling and drinking establishment, it nearly blew the place down. Wood hit sharp against wood as the front doors flew open, and the glass pane bearing the saloon's moniker cracked straight through. The ruckus drew startled screams and cries of drunken surprise from the patrons, masked faces turning to see what, or who, had entered. A few of the witchier clientele threw a hex to turn evil away, but there was enough vice already squatting in the Eden that whatever extra ungodliness the wind blew in didn't faze most of the regulars.
At first, Celeste Semyaza didn't even feel that old wind licking against her cheek. She was sitting in the dealer's chair at the faro table, focused on the game before her. But when the cards jumped up, kings and jack fools dancing wild in the sudden gale, she spread her hands across the cards to keep 'em down. The three players in front of her did the same, stretching arms and bodies over potential winners… and inevitable losers.
Hypatia, the owner of the Eden, six feet tall and built solid as one of those cursed-up mountains that encircled the town, rushed forward to secure the doors. She paused long enough to let a costumed couple slip through, the woman clutching the tip of a papier-mâché wing as the man, unsteady on high-heeled boots shaped like goat's feet, leaned into her. They stumbled to the bar, where Zeke, the resident bartender, awaited them. But Celeste didn't even notice them, already focused back on the card game.
"Place your bets," she told the players now that the wind had quieted down.
An Elect man sporting a bowler hat and an impressive yellow mustache held his bet, gesturing for the other players to go first. Celeste eyed him, suspicious. He wasn't one of her regulars, so she figured he must be in town for the holiday. Nothing unusual there, but he was worth keeping an eye on.
The man to Mustache's right bore the Mark of the Fallen, that telltale ring of gold around dark eyes and a pair of curling ram's horns. The Fallen man took the opportunity to lay down ten chips on the three of spades.
A mysterious woman in a wide-brimmed blue hat and matching veil extended a long-nailed hand to carefully set a dozen chips on the queen.
The revelry of the Eden had picked back up. The ill wind that had forced its way past the doors of paradise was quickly forgotten to the pleasure of gin slings and gambling. Somewhere nearby, a saloon girl laughed loudly.
The mustachioed man still hadn't laid his bet, and Celeste tapped her fingertips against the felt loudly.
"Where's that singer I heard about?" he asked with lazy indifference. His gaze flickered to the stage next to the piano on the far side of the room as his fingers tripped across a steadily shrinking stack of chips. "Heard she's a beauty with an impressive set of-"
"That's my sister." Celeste cut him off.
"-lungs." He glanced at the dealer, whistling low. "Well, I'll be. Mariel Semyaza's your sister? But you don't have the…" He touched a finger to his eye.
He wasn't the first to notice she didn't have the Mark and wouldn't be the last. "I favor our daddy."
His face scrunched up, puckered sour as a lemon. "A half-breed, then? Well, well."
Celeste kept a small dagger up her sleeve in a sheath attached to her forearm. It was an ingenious thing that Zeke had made for her, meant to shoot the blade down into her hand, hilt to palm, with just a twist of the wrist.
"Watch your tongue, Mister," she said, low and matter-of-fact, "assuming you want to keep it."
He had a dry, unpleasant kind of laugh, more wild dog than man. "Now, don't get your back up."
"Then don't talk about my sister."
"I'm only being friendly."
"I don't need friends. What I need you to do is place your bet."
He sucked at his teeth, fingers still idling over chips.
Finally, the woman in blue spoke, her voice a soft, sibilant hiss. "Place your bet or make room for someone who will. You're holding up the game."
The Fallen man grumbled in agreement, so with a pu...
