By Harry Turtledove
What if background had taken a unique direction, made a detour, and deviated a little bit from the line it selected? the following, Harry Turtledove explores such "what ifs" in twenty alternate-history tales starting from precedent days to the a ways, far-different future.
Persia has conquered Greece; Athens is in ruins. but even lower than Persia's rule, the ability of the folks can by no means be thoroughly damaged. . .
A werewolf boy tears via Cologne's medieval stretts looking for sanctuary from the indignant mob. yet who will shield a creature so hated and feared?
A scholar from the far away destiny units off on a box journey to review Genghis Khan -- and unearths him within the 20th century?
And many more!
"He's one of many most interesting explorers of exchange histories ever." -- Locus
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I realise it’s your little sister out there, but, they have nothing to lose in a game like this. ” He stabbed his hook at his chest. ” The ex-pirate made a feeble noise and looked down at what he had done. ” Blood welled up from the point at which he’d plunged his hook through his skin. It spilled down his front, staining his shirt a dark crimson. He took one step forward and said, “Damn hook,” before he collapsed to the floor. 30 8 Dunk peered out at the ocean sparkling in the midday sun as the Sea Chariot chased the blazing orb across the sea.
He knew Dirk and Spinne could cut Pegleg down in an instant, but they wouldn’t be able to move fast enough to save him too. ” Pegleg brought up his hook and spotted a cork stuck onto the tip of it. His eyes bulged as he stared at it. “After what happened, we wanted to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself in your sleep,” Dunk said. Pegleg felt for the wound with the wrong hand and smacked the cork into his chest. Dunk could see the memories of what had happened come flooding back. Stunned, Pegleg brought his other hand up and felt the stitches sticking up under his shirt.
Then the line went taut. The entire ship shuddered from stem to stern. Far below, someone screamed. Dunk hated himself for giving thanks that it didn’t sound like Dirk. The rope and the ship creaked with the strain of holding onto each other, but neither one gave. Dunk glanced back and saw the stern swinging back and forth in the rushing water, like bait on a hook trawling behind a speeding boat. Dunk knew that this couldn’t last long. Either the Fanatic would tow them out of the maelstrom, or they would haul it down along with them.
Departures by Harry Turtledove