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Apex Magazine: Issue 15

Apex Magazine: Issue 15

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Apex Magazine: Issue 15

75 Seiten
1 Stunde
Jul 28, 2010


Apex Magazine is a monthly science fiction, fantasy, and horror magazine featuring original, mind-bending short fiction from many of the top pros of the field. New issues are released on the first Tuesday of every month.

Catherynne M. Valente begins her reign as Apex Magazine fiction editor with a stellar line up.

Original Fiction:
"Fair Ladies" by Theodora Goss
“Four Is Me! With Squeeeeee! (And LOLer)" by Nick Mamatas

Reprinted Fiction:
"Secret Life" by Jeff VanderMeer

Original Poetry:
"Dogstar Men" by C.S.E. Cooney

Jul 28, 2010

Über den Autor

Catherynne M. Valente is an acclaimed, New York Times bestselling creator of over forty works of fantasy and science fiction, including the Fairyland novels and The Glass Town Game. She has been nominated for the Nebula and World Fantasy awards, and has won the Tiptree, Hugo, and Andre Norton award. She lives on a small island off the coast of Maine with her partner, young son, and a shockingly large cat with most excellent tufts.

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Apex Magazine - Catherynne M. Valente

Apex Magazine

Issue 15

Smashwords Edition

Copyrights & Acknowledgements

Fair Ladies Copyright © 2010 by Theodora Goss

Four Is Me! With Squeeeeee! (And LOLer) Copyright © 2010 by Nick Mamatas

Dogstar Men Copyright © 2010 by C.S.E. Cooney

Secret Life Copyright © 2004 by Jeff VanderMeer (Originally appeared in the collection Secret Life, Golden Gryphon Press, 2004)

Cover art copyright © 2010 by Priscila Santos

Publisher—Jason Sizemore

Fiction Editor—Catherynne M. Valente

Senior Editor—Gill Ainsworth

Submissions Editors—Jennifer Brozek, Maggie Jamison, Zakarya Anwar, Ferrett Steinmetz, Martel Sardina, Chris Einhaus

Cover designed by Justin Stewart

Apex Publications

PO Box 24323

Lexington, KY 40524

Table of Contents


Fair Ladies

Theodora Goss

Four Is Me! With Squeeeeee! (And LOLer)

Nick Mamatas

Secret Life

Jeff VanderMeer


Dogstar Men

C.S.E. Cooney

Fair Ladies

Theodora Goss

When Rudolf Arnheim heard what his father had done, he kicked the leg of a table that his mother had brought to Malo as part of her dowry. It had been in her family for two hundred years, and had once stood in the palace of King Radomir IV of Sylvania. The leg broke and the table top fell, scattering bits of inlaid wood and ivory over the stone floor.

Damn! he said. And then, Damn him! as though trying to assign blame elsewhere, although he knew well enough what his mother would say, both about her table and about his father’s decision.

* * * *

What are you going to do? asked Karl, when the three of them were sitting in leather armchairs in the Café Kroner.

Rudolf, who was almost but not quite drunk, said, I’ll refuse to see her.

You’ll refuse to obey your father’s orders? said Gustav.

They had been at the university together. Gustav Malev had come to the city from the forests near Gretz. His father’s father had been a farmer who, by hoarding his wealth, had purchased enough land to marry the daughter of a local brewer and send his son to the university. The brewing operation had flourished; glasses of dark, bitter Malev beer were drunk from the Caucasus to the Adriatic. Gustav, two generations removed from tilling the soil, still looked like the farmer his grandfather had been. He was large and slow, with red hair that stood up on his head like a boar-bristle brush. In contrast, Karl Reiner was small, thin, with black hair that hung down to his shoulders in the latest Aesthetic fashion. He knew the best places to drink absinthe in Karelstad. His father was a government official, like his father and his father’s father before him. Most likely, Karl would be a government official as well.

Rudolf looked at his friends affectionately. How he liked Karl and Gustav. Of course, he would not want to be either of them. I may not have Karl’s brains, he thought, but I would not be such a weasely-looking fellow for all the prizes and honors of the university, none of which, incidentally, had come to Rudolf. And while Gustav is as rich as Croesus, and a very good sort of fellow to boot, what was his grandfather? And he remembered with pride that his grandfather had been a Baron, as his father was a Baron. His father, the Baron. He could not understand his father’s preposterous—preposterous—he could not remember the word. Yes, Gustav and Karl were his best friends.

He stood up and stumbled, almost falling on Karl. Really, you know, I think I’m going to throw up.

Karl paid the bill, while Gustav held him under the arms as they wound their way around the small tables to the front entrance.

The Pearl, said Karl later, when they were sitting in their rooms. They shared an apartment near the university, on Ordony Street. I wonder what she’s like, after all these years. No one has seen her since before the war. She must be forty, at least.

Rudolf put his head in his hands. He had thrown up twice on his way home, and his head ached.

Surely your father won’t expect you to—take her as a mistress, said Gustav, with the delicacy of a country boy. He still blushed when the women on the street corners called and whistled at him.

I don’t know what he expects, said Rudolf, although his father had made it relatively clear.

As far as I can tell, Rudi, your entire university education has been a waste of money, his father had said. Rudolf hated to be called Rudi. His father was sitting behind a large mahogany desk and he was standing in front of it, which put him, he felt, in a particularly disadvantageous position. You have shown absolutely no intellectual aptitude, and no preference for any profession other than that of drunkard. You have made no valuable connections. And now I hear that you have formed a liaison with a young woman who works in a hat shop. You will argue that you are only acting like the men with whom you associate, although Rudolf had been about to do nothing of the sort. "Well, they can afford to waste their time drinking and forming inappropriate alliances. Karl Reiner has already been promised a position at the Ministry of Justice, and Gustav Malev will return home to work in his family’s business. But we are not rich, although our family is as old as Sylvania, and on your

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