Two grapes braided into one dark, structured red, like the pilgrims' tales folding into a single journey. Brooding enough to stand up to the Shrike waiting at the Time Tombs.
Wild, otherworldly and savory, it feels like a wine from a far-off world. Its aged, strange complexity fits a story about time folding in on itself.
Seven pilgrims travel toward the Time Tombs, each telling a story that grows from space opera into horror, romance and grief. Simmons borrows Chaucer's structure and gives it cosmic scale and real emotional weight.
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