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Seven Stones to Stand or Fall (Outlander)
Seven Stones to Stand or Fall - Outlander Author:Diana Gabaldon Diana Gabaldon has created a spellbinding, brilliantly imagined world over the course of her Outlander novels. Now, in Seven Stones to Stand or Fall, she gathers a magnificent collection of short fiction, including two never-before-published novellas, all extending the story of Outlander in thrilling new directions, filling in mesmerizing chapte... more »rs in the lives of the Outlander characters.
Contents:
The Custom of the Army / short fiction by Diana Gabaldon: All things considered, it was probably the fault of the electric eel.
The Space Between / short fiction by Diana Gabaldon: He still didn’t know why the frog hadn’t killed him.
A Plague of Zombies / short fiction by Diana Gabaldon: There was a snake on the drawing-room table. A small snake, but still. Lord John Grey wondered whether to say anything about it.
A Leaf on the Wind of All Hallows / short fiction by Diana Gabaldon: It was two weeks yet to Hallowe’en, but the gremlins were already at work.
Virgins / short fiction by Diana Gabaldon: Ian Murray knew from the moment he saw his best friend’s face that something terrible had happened. The fact that he was seeing Jamie Fraser’s face at all was evidence enough of that, never mind the look of the man.
A Fugitive Green / short fiction by Diana Gabaldon: Minnie Rennie had secrets. Some were for sale and some were strictly her own. She touched the bosom of her dress and glanced toward the lattice-work door at the rear of the shop. Still closed, the blue curtains behind it drawn firmly shut.
Besieged / short fiction by Diana Gabaldon: Lord John Gray dipped a finger gingerly into the little stone pot, withdrew it, glistening, and sniffed cautiously. “Jesus!” “Yes, me lord. That’s what I said”, his valet, Tom Byrd, face carefully averted, put the lid back on the pot. “Was you to rub yourself withthat stuff, you’d be drawing flies in their hundreds, same as if you were summat that was dead. Long dead,” he added, and muffled the pot in a napkin for additional protection. “Well, in justice”, Grey said dubiously, “I suppose the whale is long dead”. He looked at the far wall of his office. There were a number of flies resting along the wainscoting, as usual, fat and black as currants against the white plaster. Sure enough, a couple of them had already risen into the air, circling lazily toward the pot of whale oil. “Where did you get that stuff?”.