Continuing with the Great Discworld Re-Read, I'm moving along in publication order and starting to get to what I consider the "good stuff." This is where I first started falling in love with Pratchett's writing and the Discworld itself.
First we have Wyrd Sisters (1988), the next book in the Witches subseries. I am an unabashed Shakespeare fangirl, so having Pratchett's take on Macbeth is a joy and a delight all by itself. It manages to hit a lot of the aspects of the Scottish Play that Shakespeare smooths over - like, how do the players handle the play showing the duke murdering the king? How does the duke actually react to being called out like that? (Spoiler: not well!) And what do the witches think of all this?
Watching Granny Weatherwax see a play for the first time is an utter delight. She takes on the aspect of someone who is seeing what is, to be frank, an incredibly weird premise - a bunch of people are pretending to be other people and killing each other in front of a bunch of witnesses, but the people who are being killed aren't dead and sometimes pretend to be someone else entirely. It's a bizarre concept when you think about it, and Granny Weatherwax is the woman on the spot to think about it for us.
Seeing Magrat come into her own is also a joy, because she's not one to stand up for herself at first. She starts realizing her own power, in part because no one else believes in her, and she's not about to put up with that for another moment. I like that she becomes queen in the end, because while she may not be the traditional Lacre witch, she is a formidably powerful woman in her own right, and being on the throne gives her the opportunity to wield that power.
This is probably the first book that has shown me definitively that every time I read a Discworld book, it's like reading a new book. There are so many references in here that I completely missed the first time(s) I read it, simply because I didn't know much about British humor. Now that I've watched The Goes Wrong Show multiple times, I have been exposed to much more of the tropes of British humor that I never saw before, which means there are jokes I get this time. It's marvelous.
The thing that does bug me, especially so soon after reading Equal Rites, is that once again threads that were left dangling at the end of one book are simply dropped as if they never happened. Whatever happened to the idea that Granny Weatherwax would teach at Unseen University, or that the wizards would come to Lancre to study on occasion? That could have been a fun cross-over that we simply never see. However, that's a small niggle in an extremely fun book.
Finally we comes to Pyramids (1989), one of my all-time favorites of the series. As much as I am an unabashed Shakespeare fangirl, I am (and always have been) an even bigger fan of ancient Egypt. Something about the pyramids and the mummies and the pantheon just caught my imagination as a kid and never let go. So, naturally, Pratchett + ancient Egypt = a heartful of love from me. This is also the first of the "stand alone" books that aren't tied to a separate subseries, which makes it a good starting point for people just getting into the Discworld.
Teppic is the son of the king of Djelibeybi, a tiny kingdom along the river Djel. He's sent to good old Ankh-Morpork to train to become an assassin because, frankly, the kingdom is in debt up to the top of their hundreds of pyramids, and someone needs to make some money. On the night of his final exam (which he passes in spite of himself), his father dies, and he becomes god-king in a most embarrassing manner. He goes home and discovers that some patterns are harder to change than he could ever have imagined.
I. Love. This. Book. Watching Teppic go from spoiled child of a king to a trained assassin and learning about parts of the world outside of his tiny kingdom, only to go back home and discover that he no longer fits into the space that he was born into, feels incredibly honest as a way of viewing growing up. Watching him interact with the family's high priest, and fighting against thousands of years of Tradition, it's simultaneously hilarious and frustrating as all hell. And then the gods appear.
It's one thing to believe in the gods when they're far off and not paying attention. When they're actually right there, right in front of you, and doing absolutely nothing that you want them to do, well, that's an entirely different story. An entertaining one, at the very least, and one that we see just enough of to wince at the frustrations of the priests and others.
There's a lot that can be (and has been) said about Pratchett's take on religion, but I'll just note that he certainly takes the idea of gods being created by man and runs with it. The high priest even acknowledges in the end that he came up with the gods to find a way to make certain things Important, and so when they blatantly disregard him and turn out to be completely different from how he originally imagined them, it's a gigantic blow to his ego and his worldview. I have no doubt that there's a lot that can be pulled from this with regards to religious deconstruction and such, but that's not what I'm here for.
Overall, this was a glorious pair of books. I feel like this is where Pratchett starts coming into his own in the Discworld, laying down some of the themes and painting the backdrops that will come up again and again in the series. And next time, we'll look at the first book of the City Watch, Guards! Guards! I can't wait.
I realize it's been a minute since I've posted about the re-read, so I'm back with updates! As a reminder, I'm building up to reading the last book in the Discworld series by re-reading all* of the books in publication order.
Our next entry is Mort (1987), the first book centering on the character of Death. Death appears in every book in the Discworld series, but this is the first book where he is one of the central characters. I can't say he's the main character here, because while he sets the plot in motion, he's not the one doing all the heavy lifting. That would be Mort, his apprentice.
Mort is a bog-standard human who's very earnest, but not particularly good at anything. His father is worried about him, because he's coming into adulthood and who's going to hire a kid that's earnest but not particularly skilled? So he takes him into town to find an apprenticeship, and at the very last strike of the clock, Death appears to take Mort on.
Seeing Death as a character is a marvel. Yes, he's the personification of the natural ending of life, but he also has likes (cats, Klatchian food) and dislikes (people who are unkind to cats). He's curious, he's trying to figure out how to do things Properly, and he has a daughter that was adopted under unknown circumstances, indicating that he's willing to bend the rules when he sees fit. He has something in common with Mort, in that he's also earnest, but not always very good at what he's trying to do.
Watching Mort grow and develop is also a wonder. He starts off as the standard Awkward Teen, and he grows and develops into an adult, while taking a side path into being Death for a little bit while Death himself takes a break (which he'd never done before, and was very confused by in the beginning). We get to see him grow into himself and find a way to make his earnestness a strength while also developing the skills he was lacking in the beginning. It's a satisfying book overall, and makes it clear that there's more to Death that we originally thought.
Finally (for this entry) there's Sourcery (1988), and we're back with the wizards. This time we encounter something beyond a wizard, a sourcerer - someone who can access the source of magic itself. There used to be sourcerers before the Magic Wars, but after nearly destroying the Discworld, rules were put in place and wizards established themselves as the primary magic users in the Disc, mostly by not doing magic at all.
The sourcerer in question is a child, raised in no small part by his wizard father who earthed himself in his wizard's staff. By the time the child shows up at Unseen University to take his "rightful place" as Archchancellor, he's been told repeatedly that he is the one true magic user, and thus all others should bow before him. Well, him and his father, who's the one actually pulling the strings - after all, he's still just a child.
This book makes me uncomfortable. When the sourcerer appears, he demonstrates more magic than the wizards had been able to access in generations, which leads most of them to allow him to take the lead, even though - and I cannot stress this enough - he is a CHILD. While he has phenomenal cosmic power, he has the mind of a 10-year-old, and everyone around him is trying to steer that mind to their own purposes. It takes far too long for people to realize that the power he has access to (and that he's able to give them access to) is incredibly dangerous.
And then there's Rincewind again. He appears mostly because he was the only wizard not at the University when the sourcerer appeared, so he's the only one outside of his influence in the beginning. There's a whole side quest with the Archchancellor's hat and Cohen the Barbarian's daughter, which feels a little forced and like he was being added because people like the character, not necessarily because he's the best/worst man for the job.
Once again with the wizards, the book ends with a whimper - the sourcerer goes off into a world of his own creation (again, a CHILD), and everything goes back to the way it was. There doesn't seem to be any growth or development in the characters - this was just a thing that happened, and now it's done.
On that note, I'll be writing up the next two books (Wyrd Sisters and Pyramids) soon, so stay tuned!
Welcome back to the Great Discworld Re-Read! I've decided it's been long enough, it's time for me to re-read through the entire* Discworld series of books in publication order and finish by reading The Shepherd's Crown, the last book written by Terry Pratchett which was published ten years ago and which I have never read.
Next up to bat is The Light Fantastic (1986), which is the direct continuation of The Colour of Magic. As far as I can remember, this is the only true duology in the series where one picks up almost immediately where the other ends. The fact that he and his publishers made readers wait three years to find out what happened to Rincewind and Twoflower seems a little cruel to me, but I live in a time where a book a year is pretty common for series (with some exceptions, of course). Hell, I don't even like having to wait a week for the next episode of The Great British Baking Show, so, you know, I'm impatient like that.
Rincewind and Twoflower are dealing with the after-effects of The Colour of Magic, and discovering that the world has more in store for them than just letting them fall off the edge of the Disc. We learn a little more about the magic of the wizards, and we meet the greatest hero in the Disc, Cohen the Barbarian. I love seeing what happens when a hero ages, and how he handles listening to Twoflower tell of his exploits from his younger days. It's a lovely touch.
I'll be honest - the wizards are probably my least favorite of the characters of Discworld. They're pompous, arrogant, and just plain irritating most of the time, and I don't quite understand why so many people want to join their ranks. Still, watching Rincewind stand on the sidelines of what he feels like he should have had, I can see it a little bit.
This leads me into the next book, Equal Rites (1987). Here we meet one of the more formidable characters of the Disc, Granny Weatherwax. We're still dealing with the wizards, but now we're coming at them from a different angle.
And what an angle it is! Being able to see the two distinctly different magic systems in play, and how they're not just different systems, but entirely different ways of looking at magic, is a master stroke. It's something that Sir Terry keeps up throughout the series, with the witches more focused on headology and the ways in which you don't use magic while the wizards are bent on gaining as much power as they can and using it in as many flashy ways as they can. Both groups are very intent on making sure everyone else knows that they are a witch or a wizard - the hats are critical in identifying a magic user on the Disc - and the ways people respect (or don't) those hats is fascinating.
Eskarina, the first woman wizard, has a lot to overcome in order to become a fully-fledged wizard. While there are some great pieces in this book, it's a bit of a let-down when you see that there's a lot of the internalized misogyny on the Disc. The wizards, of course, are convinced that a woman can't become a wizard, because that's simply not done, but Granny Weatherwax also has a lot to overcome in order to take Esk to the Unseen University for wizard training. Even then, there are pieces where it feels like Granny loses a bit of herself as she becomes more of a "fashionable" witch in the city, and it feels like she stops being the character I know her to be. The end of the book seems to indicate that she'll lecture for the Unseen University, and that she'll date (!) the arch-chancellor, both of which are things that are dropped in later books and are never heard of again, from what I remember. It just doesn't feel like Granny.
This is the danger of reading such a long-running series again - I know the characters as they've developed over time, and so going back to their first appearances feels like reading the rough drafts, before they've had a chance to get some polish on them. To a certain extent, that's exactly what it is - again, I have to remind myself that this is one of the first books of 41, and if I were to look back at my own writing from thirty years ago, well, it wouldn't be pretty. (Honestly, looking back at my own writing from five years ago ain't that great, either.)
Either way, both of these lay some groundwork for the world and the characters, and it's always fun to go back to their roots and see how far they've come. Now, on to Death's first prime-time appearance in Mort (1987).
Anyone who knows me knows that the Discworld books by Sir Terry Pratchett are some of my favorite books of all time. The series is mighty, weighing in at 41 core books and assorted related books (like the Science of Discworld series), and it's not the kind of series where every book has to be read in order to be able to understand what's going on. There are sub-series within the main books, as several books focus on different characters, and you do get to see the characters grow and develop over the books. (Hi, we're Discworld fans - let us show you our flow charts!)
You thought I was joking, didn't you?
Sadly, Sir Terry passed away in March 2015. The last book that he finished, The Shepherd's Crown, was published in August 2015, and as much as I love the series, I have never read the last book. So long as it remained unread, there was still a "new" Discworld book for me to discover, and I could pretend it wasn't over.
Recently, however, articles were coming up about the tenth anniversary of the publication of The Shepherd's Crown, and there was a message from Rob Wilkins, Sir Terry's longtime assistant. The message read, in part, "I also know that Terry wanted his books to be read and enjoyed far more than he wanted them kept on a shelf. And as time passes it becomes ever more apparent how much the Discworld books reward re-visiting, perpetually revealing something new, literary gems Terry had hidden away for a second or third, or even more, re-read. Every Pratchett is to some degree an unread Pratchett, including the ones you've already enjoyed and including The Shepherd's Crown."
This made me realize that it's time. But, because I'm me, I can't just jump to the last book - that almost feels like cheating, somehow. So I'm starting from the beginning, and going through them all* in publication order. It's been ages since I've touched some of them, and just a few months for others - if I did all my reading with physical books, there are a few that would be falling apart by now because of how often they've been read. I'm also taking the opportunity to update the audiobook versions I have to the newest editions - much as I love the Nigel Planer and Stephen Briggs versions, having Bill Nighy read all the footnotes in all of the books has a pleasant continuity that I'm looking forward to.
I started at the beginning with The Colour of Magic (1983). Here's where it all begins - the introduction to the Discworld, the Great A'Tuin, Rincewind, the wizards, all the things. It's where the world starts!
And it's...OK. One thing that I've learned as a writer is that the more you write, the better you get, and it's unfair to compare one of Sir Terry's first books against the ones he wrote, you know, thirty-some books down the line. The ideas and the characters are there, and there are breadcrumbs that he drops here - in book ONE - that pay off again, thirty-some books down the line. He manages to develop a world that is different enough from the "average" fantasy world to be interesting (light moves slower than sound! The world is a disc carried on the back of four elephants which are riding a giant turtle!) while still being familiar to fantasy readers (wizards doing magic, trolls, references to the gods who have a direct hand in the affairs of mortals). His turns of phrase haven't gotten the polish that they'll develop, but (and it might be because I know what it will become) I can see the potential underneath.
I admit that Rincewind, the failed wizard who is the main character of this book (along with the Disc's first-ever tourist, Twoflowers) is not my favorite character. At least, he hasn't been in the past. This time through, I feel a little bit more for the guy - he has the ability to see just how badly things can and will go, and realizes that there's not really anything he can do to stop it, but he's going to try (usually by running away). He's the ultimate pessimist/realist. Twoflowers, on the other hand, is the epitome of an optimist - he's certain that nothing bad can really happen to him, because he's not directly involved in what's going on, and really, everything can be settled if people just sit down and behave "sensibly." The combination of the two mindsets is the engine that drives the book, and it's a solid machine.
The book ends on a cliff...well, not quite hanger, since they've fallen off the cliff, but you know what I mean - the story is obviously going to continue in the next book. And I'll be following right along with it.
*There are probably one or two books that I'll end up skipping because I know I don't like them very much, and I don't intend to hit the related books in this read-through.
It's taken a couple of days, but I feel like I've recuperated a bit from WorldCon. I definitely learned a few lessons.
Not the longest string of badge ribbons by a long shot, but a solid effort
I overscheduled myself like crazy. I was on two panels, took part in one workshop, and was the solo lead of a second workshop, and I volunteered for a total of about 12 hours. For some people, this would be a workable schedule; for me, it was on the verge of too much. I missed out on things and people that I would have loved to spend my time doing and meeting because I was simply drained. I need to guard my energy more carefully.
Having said that, I am capable of more than I think I am. I was able to be on a panel with Gail Carriger, and tell a room full (!) of people about the history of tomato ketchup off the cuff. I was able to lead a workshop on my own, teaching a full (!) room of people how to cross stitch and do blackwork embroidery, and get some of them excited about the crafts.
I taught under keen surveillance.
Seeing friends from the internet in 3D will never not be awesome. There were a number of members of the Lady Astronauts' Club who found each other and spending time with them off-screen was simultaneously super-exciting and incredibly soothing. There are few things I enjoy as much as being around my people.
Getting business cards printed (shout out to Moo was a random idea and, it turned out, a very good one. There were several times I was able to hand over a card and make connections on the spot, and it also gave me an easy way to point people here for links to the resources I put together for my panels and such.
Overall, now that I've had a couple of days to rest and think back on things, I'm glad I did as much as I did. I'm always more comfortable at a convention when I'm doing something, rather than just attending, and now I have "WorldCon panelist" as something to add to my list of achievements. That, I must admit, is pretty danged neat.
It's WorldCon day 3! I've somehow survived the first two days. If you all are coming here from the cards I gave away at my panel today (Friday), hello! Here is a link to the character generation project that I mentioned. As you can see, it's been a few years since I've done anything on it, but I'm hoping to pick it up again soon. If you have any suggestions on what games should be next, let me know!
WorldCon day two begins! I just finished my first-ever panel, so for those of you coming here from a card you received the, welcome! There's a link at the top of the page to the bibliography I mentioned, which you can also find here.
I'm back! I've updated on Royal Road both the novel (The Infinite Library) and I created a new page for short stories set in the same universe (Tales From the Infinite Library). As a teaser, here's a video of the short story I just put up on the page:
I hope to get back to updating regularly-ish, as the way the world burning and depressive episodes allow. Time to create some art and shine some light in the darkness as I can.
Happy Sunday! (Ignore that I say Saturday in the video - three day weekends throw me off.) I liked this bit of story, though I really need to work on my Southern accent. It probably would have helped if I had figured out exactly where Mariannick was from...
As for today's story, let me fill you in on a secret. There have been two days so far that I haven't written a new story, but on both of those days, I've used the device on the schedule and have the prompt I pulled written down. I just didn't have the spoons to write the story that day. Today, I went back to the prompt I pulled on May 22 from the Deck of Worlds, and came up with the beginnings of something.
Region - First Port
Attribute - rich in folklore
Landmark - Sanctuary Without Locks
Origin - created or given as a gift
Attributes - known for tea, unique system of timekeeping
Advent - a huge construction project is on the verge of collapse
The clock rang pure blue when the roof collapsed. We’d known it was coming, of course; anyone who had seen the cracks in the tiles knew that it was likely to go any day. It still came as a shock, of course, and we huddled together out of the field of debris, waiting for the dust to settle and for someone to tell us what to do.
“At least the store room is safe,” Marta said, her characteristic optimism strained in her voice. “We won’t have to worry about fulfilling the orders for the tea festival. It’s just the fellowship hall that’s been damaged.”
“Yes, just the place where we all come together in safety and community,” Joseph sneered. “Not anything important at all.” He pounded the end of his cane against the ground, making the rest of us jump at the sharp sound. “Why did this have to happen on our watch?”
“Joseph, it was only a matter of time,” I soothed, turning away from the rubble to face the old man. He’d been at the sanctuary for longer than any of the rest of us, and took any damage or faults to the buildings as personal failings. “That roof had been in place for what, twelve prisms? Thirteen? It was only able to hold up for so long. And Marta’s right, we’ll still be able to fulfill the tea festival orders, which means we’ll be able to put money aside to repair the damage.”
Joseph snorted and limped out of the doorway to the secondary hall where we had all huddled. “Believe what you want, I think it’s a sign,” he grumbled. “Twenty prisms this sanctuary has been standing, and nothing like this has happened before. Perhaps now it’s time to rethink whether we deserve to stand for another twenty prisms. Or even another two.” On that cheerful note, he made his way to the residence hall, carefully skirting the debris in the courtyard.
Leon sighed. “I feel like I should go after him, but he’s going to be impossible to talk to for shades now. I’ll try after dinner, around orange.” He squeezed my shoulder, and I felt a bit of my tension release. “Come on. We need to start working on cleaning all of this up. It’s going to take palettes to get everything, so we may as well start now.”
It was red-orange by the time we’d made a dent in cleaning the debris, but at least we’d made a path into the rest of the fellowship hall. I was afraid of going further into the building to see what the rest of the damage was, but I knew that it would be my responsibility to do so. I couldn’t let anyone into the hall until we had established if any part of it was safe, and as the current leader of the Sanctuary Without Locks, my job was to ensure the safety of everyone within our walls. “Let’s break for dinner,” I announced, then winced. Dinner frequently took place in the fellowship hall, which was obviously not available at the moment.
Marta saved the day, as usual. “It’s such a nice palette, why don’t we eat outside?” she asked, gesturing to the glowing air around us. The sun was starting to set, but the air remained warm and comfortable. “We can bring some of the big tables from the secondary hall out here, and the kitchen is far enough away from the collapse, we should be able to get in and out safely.” A murmur of agreement rose from the other residents, and I had to admit it was the kind of plan that would give us a comfortable break from the work. I nodded, then gestured for Leon and Marta to follow me.
“Before I send people into the kitchen, I want to make sure it’s safe,” I announced. “The rest of you can move some of the tables into the courtyard, and we’ll return with news about the kitchen.” I made my way around the fellowship hall, skirting the main doors and circling around to the back door which led to the kitchen.
We were very, very lucky - the part of the roof that had collapsed was near the front of the building, and the back of the building seemed to be sound. I gave the all-clear, and Marta summoned a couple of others to help her bring food out to the courtyard.
Joseph sat with us to eat, but he studiously ignored the remnants of the roof and refused to talk about the damage to anyone, even though that was the topic on everyone’s mind. I met Leon’s eye, and he could only give me a shrug. I sighed internally, trying to figure out what the best way to fix the roof and to fix my people.
Tea Festival orders fulfilled
Tea Festival happens, Sanctuary hosts fundraising dinner/formal tea service
Community comes together, first time Sanctuary is open to the general public
Happy Saturday! Today I'm doing some rankings on the two devices from the week, both products of the Story Engine - the Lore Master's Deck and the Deck of Worlds.
Both the Lore Master's Deck and the Deck of Worlds get 5s in both Shiny and Fun, as they are very well-made cards in well-designed card boxes that I can spend hours playing with. Lore Master gets a 4 in Complexity, while Deck of Worlds gets a 3 - the Deck of Worlds is focused on one area of writing, and is designed to create single micro settings, while the Lore Master's Deck is meant to cover a broad variety of topics in writing, and can go from a single cluster into a full web covering multiple aspects of the same story.
Speaking of story...today's story comes from the StoryADay website's prompt from May 23:
Prompt: When she picked up the knife, she discovered the blade was still sharp.
When she picked up the knife, she discovered the blade was still sharp. She nearly dropped it, the energy from the sharpening spell shocking her like static. It seemed like a waste of energy, casting sharpening spells on kitchen tools, but it was exactly the kind of thing her grandmother would do for her. It was the first time she was living on her own, and Abuela was always going to try to help her out.
She sighed, carefully reaching for the handle of the kitchen knife and putting it in the knife block she’d found in one of the other boxes. She swore she had packed everything herself, and her boxes hadn’t been out of her sight since she’d sealed them, but somehow, things were appearing that she didn’t remember putting there.
Leaving her familia behind in Baja California had been the hardest thing Josefa’d ever had to do, but she made herself believe it was worth it. She would be the first of the primos to go to college, to make something of herself besides just another worker who took the first job she could find that would pay the bills and live in the same house she’d grown up in. She wanted something better for herself, something bigger, and that had meant leaving the tiny room she’d shared with her little prima and make her way north to Seattle.
Josefa had worked with her teachers and gotten all the scholarships and jobs she could to live on her own. It was a studio apartment just off-campus, but it was all hers, and she would have no one else to answer to back home.
She opened her next box and sighed. Papá had had a hand in this one, she could see. She pulled out a miniature version of his favorite armchair and carefully set it on the floor, far away from the kitchenette space. As soon as the four feet touched the floor, it began to grow into its full size. Josefa seized the air around it, squeezing the shrinking spell to keep it from disintegrating completely, and managed to keep the chair from growing beyond two-thirds its normal size. The chair was far too big for the small space, but the shrunken version would work, and Josefa had to admit that she had always loved that chair. Her eyes welled up a bit, thinking of Papá sneaking the chair into her box and how big he must have been smiling while he thought of how he was getting on over on her. How could she get mad about that?
By the time she finished unpacking her boxes, she had everything she’d originally packed, plus the rest of the knives to fill out the block, an elaborate quilt from her other abuela, a fancy desk set complete with pen and ink from TÃo Leonardo, and her youngest primo’s favorite stuffed dinosaur.
Josefa had planned to start a new life in this studio apartment, with a space that had nothing but new things for the person she wanted to be. Thanks to her family, she had reminders of the home that had made her the person she already was.
Welcome to Friday and CHAOS! The chaos has a bit of structure this time, as the fine people at the Story Engine have created a bridge expansion that makes it easier to use both the Lore Master's Deck and the Deck of Worlds together. (They have other bridge expansions to bring their core product, the Story Engine, into the mix as well - I hope to do all the chaos and use all of them at once one of these days. I will need a much bigger table.)
Faction: Heralds of the Stampede
Trait: Known for an attribute (hiding spot for a notable figure (poet))
Trait: Vast stockpiles of a material (river paint)
Agenda: Serve or awaken a slumbering entity (the Fool’s attorney)
Event: Contest
Trait: Nicknamed after a material or object (glass)
Catalyst: Greed of a notable figure (outsider)
Fallout: Important object going missing (respirator)
Fallout: New pantheon or calendar
The fifteenth year of the Awakening began, as all new years did, on a hot day with the sun hanging high above us. The newest members of the Heralds of the Stampede were brought out to the Square of the Fool’s Attorney for the ritual of joining, in which the acolytes would become Heralds in name and spirit. They would soon participate in the contest of glass, being ranked by their performance and assigned their duties accordingly. Each year, a few of the acolytes would fail at the contest, and would be sent out of the Square, never to be seen or spoken of again.
That was the idea, at any rate. In practice, there simply weren’t enough people in the village around the Square to keep the failed acolytes hidden from view. The failures, like everyone else in the village, worked to keep the Heralds fed and pampered, as they were far too important and prissy to do such menial tasks as till the land and weave cloth. They were made to serve the Fool’s Attorney, though they were extremely cagey about what, exactly, that entailed. The rest of the village did appreciate that they would educate the children, under the guise of identifying potential new Heralds, and they even helped send some of those children to the university in the capitol, but there was little day to day service the Heralds seemed to do for the village in exchange for all the material goods they received from those living outside their walls. The failed acolytes frequently left the village after a year or two, their bitterness overwhelming them as they became the servants rather than those served.
And some of us were stuck here, taking care of ailing parents and struggling to find a way to keep our minds active while forced into a life of drudgery, and it was a living hell. It had been three years since I’d lost the contest of glass, and though I maintained that the others had cheated, while I had followed the rules to the letter, the results were the only thing the Heralds cared about, and out I was sent. There were two others who had failed the same year I had, and they both left the village to travel to the capitol almost as soon as the great doors to the Herald’s citadel had closed behind us. They had been the younger children of their families, and were free of the responsibilities that plagued those of us upon whom our families depended.
Being the dependable one is highly overrated.
I tried not to think of the acolytes who would be lining up in the Square as I worked to make breakfast for my father before I started to tend the fields. My mother had died the previous year, and while I was saddened to lose her, of course, I felt the loss of her helping hands far more acutely. I had never realized how much work keeping house for just two people could be, but when one of those people refused to lift a finger in assistance, and was far too ill to work in the field or do any of the more manual tasks on the land, the workload felt intense. The beginning of the year, being the longest and hottest day of the year, always felt more oppressive than the others, and the reminder of my failure was a sharp knife in my heart at the same time.
Father managed to get himself to the table, which was becoming a rare occurrence anymore, and looked expectantly at me as I brought over our meager meal of porridge and toast. “The year begins today, doesn’t it?” he asked, peering at the calendar hanging on the wall. “I still can’t quite get a handle on the months since the Awakening.”
I smiled as I filled his plate. “Yes, I imagine it was much different in your youth,” I teased, giving him the pot of marmalade for his toast. “The year begins today, yes. By nightfall we should have the newest failed acolytes back in the village. We’ll have to be ready to welcome them back and prepare them for the way ahead.” I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice, but the way Father looked at me, I was sure I had failed at that as well.
“I’m glad you and some of the others have taken to welcoming those who are rejoining the village, though I do wish you wouldn’t call them - or yourself - failures.” His hand shook as he spread marmalade on his toast, but his voice remained steady. “That word has such harsh connotations to it, and just because you didn’t become a Herald, it doesn’t make you a failure.”
I stood, my appetite having fled. “Father, I’m not going to go over this with you again. The point is, we’re trying to make leaving the citadel a more pleasant experience than the one we had.” I cleared my dishes back to the kitchen, putting my scraps in the slop bucket to take out to the pigs before washing my things and setting them to dry. “Now, you take your time, and I’m going to run a few errands before I get into the fields. Since we have the largest place, we’ll be hosting the welcome dinner here. I’ve got a few of the others bringing some tables to set up outside, and to bring some food, but I need to pick up dishes from a couple of the houses.” I tied my hat on and picked up my basket, then came around the table to kiss Father’s cheek. “Once you’re done, why don’t you take a look at some of those books I brought from the librarian? She came by yesterday, and I picked a few things that I think you might like.”
His face brightened when I mentioned the books, and his smile grew as he looked me over for a moment. “You remind me so much of your mother,” he said softly. “Is that one of her dresses?”
I ran my hands over the sprigged cotton, worn soft with many washings and wearings, and nodded. “I recut it to make it fit a bit better, but it’s mostly her dress. Do you think she would mind?”
“Never, my girl,” he said, returning to his breakfast. “Now go run your errands, and don’t worry about me. I’ll take a look at those books and see if I can’t find something to keep the brain moving.”
I chuckled at him as I left, but as soon as I closed the door behind me, the frivolity left me. I had a job to do, and not much time in which to do it. Tonight was to be the culmination of years of work, and several of us were coming together to finally take down the Heralds. The first failure, the Outsider, had been the one to awaken the Fool’s Attorney these fifteen years ago, and tonight, he was due to return and finish the job.
The Heralds had rejected us, reviled us, and attempted to destroy us. Now, we would show them what destruction really looked like.
New day, new product from Story Engine, the Deck of Worlds. This one is aimed specifically at world-building, so less plot creation, but there are some interesting plot hooks that came out of it.
Region - Wasteland of Hope
Landmark - Vineyard (site of an infamous heist)
Attribute of region - haven for artists
Advent - There is a rush to discover a mythical burial site
“Is the camera rolling? OK, great, make sure I’m in the shot. Dude, I said make sure I’m in the shot!” *static*
“All right, try that again. We good? Sweet. My friends, this is it! We’re here in the Wasteland of Hope, looking for the burial mound of the greatest artist who ever lived, Ruy Mendez. What? OK, one of the greatest artists that ever lived. Oh, c’mon, man, you cannot tell me that you don’t think Mendez was-“ *static*
“How’s my hair? Man, it’s your fault it’s a mess. All right, how about now? Sweet. Like I was saying! We’re here looking for the burial mound of Ruy Mendez. He was one of the great artists who established the commune at the Wasteland of Hope over two hundred years ago, a commune that’s still going strong and allows for artists of all stripes to come and work their craft without worrying about the prosaic things like bills and food and stuff. What? Yeah, I mean, you have to qualify for a fellowship, and not everyone gets in, but the ones who do, get to make art for a year without having to work a soul-destroying day job and trying to make art after that. It’s not the kind of thing most people are able to handle, you know? Well, obviously, you can handle it, but your art is a different kind- what, you can’t take that you don’t make fine art?” *static*
“I’m going to be on camera now, show you how it’s done, dog. We’re looking for the burial mound of Ruy Mendez, a middling artists who was purported to have millions of dollars worth of jewels and gold buried with him, because that’s how he insisted on getting paid for all of his commissions. This has nothing to do with art, and everything to do with all that MONEY! And yeah, we can probably make some art with that money, but let’s be so for real right now, we’re probably going to blow a lot of it on, like, the hottest cars and, like, other things we probably shouldn’t say on camera. There! That’s how you do it!” *static*
Man, I love this device. I decided to start with an item this time, instead of an event for once, to see what I could come up with, and I think I like it!
Center object - Jar Background - created as a complement to another object (globe) Trait - elemental properties Background - linked to a mysterious death (believer) Trait - always malfunctioning or falling apart
The plinth contained spaces for four items in miniature, arrayed in a diamond. Two of the four spaces were empty, but two contained beautifully bejeweled items. I felt a gasp catch in my throat in spite of myself, and I heard the other guests around me murmuring their appreciation as well.
The jar was covered in brown and white diamonds, laid out in a whirlwind pattern across the broad surface of the belly, growing smaller as they climbed the long neck and along the two curved handles. Below it, a globe with a design picked out in emeralds and sapphires hung on a gold stand. Gerard reached out one long, aristocratic finger and gently brushed the globe’s surface, setting it gently spinning and sending sparks of light out into the room. It surprised a few giggles out of the more tipsy guests, and I felt my own face split into a wide grin.
“Magnificent, aren’t they?” he drawled, touching the rim of the jar with that same finger. A small gust of air seemed to rocket from within, and he hurriedly pulled his hand away, shaking it as though trying to get something off of the surface. He smiled, but I had seen the flash of fear cross his face, and I realized then that these had to be the real things. How on Earth had he managed to get his hands on them?
“Moving right along,” he said, trying to shift everyone’s attention to another part of his gallery. Everyone else followed him easily, but I lingered behind to look at the miniatures with Ricky.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he whispered, “and I have no idea how he got his mitts on them.” I turned sharply to meet his green eyes, which were sparkling with amusement. “Amazing, aren’t they?” “Amazing is right,” I replied in a low voice, “and incredibly dangerous. You saw what happened with the jar of wind already, and that’s the one that’s got the history of causing…trouble.”
“Trouble?” Ricky put his hand on the small of my back and gently steered me to the other side of the room where the rest of the guests were milling around a display of kimono. “I don’t remember any kind of trouble.”
“They were seen as some kind of folk mysteries for a long time, but when I was in Crete doing research for my master’s, I found that there was some proof to the tales.” I put my empty plate down on one of the tables along the wall and leaned against it, wishing I could take my heels off. “The jar of wind was the one item of the four elemental talismans that was made slightly…wrong.”
“Ah! So you’re the famous Crystal that Rick here has been telling me so much about!” Gerard came over and put one arm around each of our shoulders. I tried not to cringe away from him, but I felt myself sliding out from under his arm. “Now, what’s that you’re saying about my miniatures?” The emphasis on the word “my” was unmistakable, and it made my blood boil.
“Well, you see,” I started, and I could see Ricky trying to signal that I should stop. Screw it - his boss wanted to know, didn’t he? “The elemental talismans were made by some of the demigods to allow mortals to hold the power of the elements in their hands. They were created when the demigods realized that mortals didn’t have access to the same kind of power they did, and they wanted to kind of even the playing field.” I gave Gerard a brittle smile. “They were trying to distribute power a little more equitably.”
The rest of the room was silent as I continued. “The original plan was to make several sets of the talismans, and send them to the four corners of the Earth, so all men would, in theory, have access to the powers of the elements. Unfortunately, something happened when they made the jar of wind.” Gerard looked a little ill when I started talking about the jar, and I realized he probably already knew some of the history. And the fool had still decided not only to take it into his home, but put it on display and show it off to people who came to fawn at his feet?
They deserved to know what kind of danger they were in. “The jar of wind was supposed to contain a bit of each of the four winds,” I continued, gesturing with my now-empty champagne glass and raising my voice so everyone could hear me clearly. “However, when the North wind was added as the last wind, the other three began to spin the jar around, fighting to keep from allowing the North wind from mixing with them. They fought, and each wind would come up briefly before diving back into the fray. Because the jar was made of such strong stuff and covered in diamonds, it held, no matter how hard they fought, so the only escape was through the opening in the jar.”
“Why didn’t someone put a lid on it?” I heard someone ask, and I turned to see one of the men dressed in an emerald green tux watching me closely as I told the tale. “Wouldn’t a lid made of the same stuff as the jar be strong enough to keep the winds in?” He was considering me closely, and I realized he was asking an historical question, not a mythological one - he believed me.
“The demigods tried,” I replied, “but trying to get the lid in place while the winds were fighting was next to impossible. Whichever wind had sprung out of the opening would just blow the lid away, and they couldn’t get a good fix on it. It took one last sacrifice, from Philomen the Believer, to get the lid in place.” I bowed my head, offering my respect to the Believer as I touched the token on my necklace. “With his death, he calmed the winds enough for the demigods to get the lid in place. They decided then that, for the good of the rest of mankind, the other sets of talismans should never be made, and the one set that was completed should be separated and each one sent to one of the four corners of the Earth.”
I turned to Gerard then. “Where did you find these two, anyway? The globe of water has been reported lost since Victorian times, and the jar of wind hasn’t been seen in recorded history since before Rome fell. Do you know where the other two talismans are?”
Gerard put his hands up in mock surrender and laughed. “Don’t look at me! I don’t know where these things are unearthed, I just acquire them after they go on the market.” My face must have been saying something out loud, because he continued, “Oh, please. It’s not like they belong to anyone anymore. They’re ancient, like you said. And that’s a lovely story, but we all know that these are just pretty pieces of jewelery now.” He clapped his hands together, getting everyone’s attention again. “Now, I’ve got quite the band in the next room, so why don’t we get our groove on?” He started “dancing” away, and some of the others laughed as they followed him. I just felt myself cringe with embarrassment on his behalf and I stayed behind to look at the talismans once again.
“You told the story very well, Believer,” the man in the emerald tux said. His voice now sounded much lower, and I heard the edge of an accent that was uncommon in the modern age in his tone. Turning sharply, I caught sight of his cufflink, and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Thank you for allowing me to tell the important part, Believer,” I replied, pulling my necklace out of my neck line so he could see the token that matched his cufflink. Both of us were wearing the traditional symbol of our order, a small lid with a drop of blood as the handle. “Now, how do we go about reacquiring the relic for the Order?”
Ricky sighed, and I jumped a mile. “Sorry!” he said, trying to calm both of us down. “I’m not trying to get in your way - obviously, you have a higher calling, and all that, and I wouldn’t dream of stopping you. But…” He trailed off, looking around for anyone else in the area, then pulled out a pocket watch I’d always seen him carry. He opened it to the watch face, then opened it again to show another image behind the watch, this one of a rose with flames licking the edges of the petals. My eyes widened as I realized he must be one of the order meant to care for the flower of fire. “Maybe we can work together to get all of them items at once, and then see them all to their proper homes?”
It was one hell of a party, I’d have to give Gerard that.
Welcome to Monday! I'm starting this week with the Lore Master's Deck from Story Engine. Confession: I have used this device before, so I have a decent idea of how it works and I am a big fan overall. I did a small draw for today, but know that it's possible for the clusters and webs to get quite extensive.
It's more of a vignette today, but I think there's some room to play. I may revisit it at some point.
Center event - Boom
Trait - remembered every year on the anniversary
Trait - notably silent or loud
Fallout - new word, expression, or idiom
Fallout - ban of a type of object (thread)
“Watch what you’re doing!” Mariannick shouted at her lab partner, who was letting the beaker start to overheat. “I swear, you’re just the type to fix a hem and blow off a leg.” She shook her head in disgust as she turned down the flame.
My partner and I exchanged looks. We were sharing a table with Mariannick and her partner, Ralph, and we were still trying to get to know her. She’d just moved to town a week before school started, so she hadn’t had much time to acclimate before we got going. She didn’t seem very interested in fitting in - in her words, she’d moved to “this sin-soaked monstrosity you call a city” because the schools were better, and she wanted to study a higher level of science than her small, rural school had access to.
“Uh, Mari,” I started, and she cut me off. “Mariannick. No nicknames. Y’all haven’t earned any yet.”
I tried again. “Right. Mariannick. I’m just curious about that expression you used - fix a hem and…”
“Fix a hem and blow off a leg,” she finished, flushing slightly. She ran her hand over her head, smoothing any strands of wavy brown hair that might have escaped her tight bun, and grimaced. “Sorry. That’s just something my mama always says. Says it’s something about the Boom back from when her mama was a kid, before the thread bans came into effect.” She looked up then, and glanced between me, my partner Eliza, and her partner, Ralph. The three of us had the same looks of confusion on our faces, and she seemed surprised. “Y’all know about the Boom, don’t you?”
The teacher got everyone’s attention. “Ten minutes left in class, everyone! Time to get cleaned up before the bell.” Obediently, we all took to our routines of scraping, wiping, washing, and drying, but I was eager to keep the conversation going. It was the most we’d gotten Mariannick to say since school started, and I didn’t want her to clam up now. “I kind of remember my grandmother mentioning something about a boom, but she never went into detail, and she never called it “the Boom” or anything,” I said conversationally.
“Really?” Mariannick made a surprised face as she scrubbed at a stubborn spot on the flask that had overheated. “I’d’ve thought everyone had known about that, but maybe the Boom didn’t get that far away from our town. Tell me,” she continued after she finished with the flask and moved on to wiping down her half of the table, “y’all have thread bans around here, right?”
Eliza shook her head. “I’ve never heard of any kind of bans on threads, and I do a lot of embroidery,” she commented, reaching into her backpack and pulling out a project bag. “Look, see? I’ve been working on this for my mom for her birthday, and I had to get some silk thread to do it. I’ve usually just used cotton, though.” She held up an embroidery hoop with the image of a peacock half-sewn on it in vibrant colors. Ralph and Mariannick craned their necks over the table to take a look, and Ralph nodded in that way of someone who doesn’t know what he’s looking about but wants to show some kind of approval.
“Eliza, it looks so good!” I squealed. “You’re so much better at this than I am. I do some cross stitch, but nothing this elaborate,” I explained, handing the hoop back to Eliza and looking up at Mariannick. The new girl, instead of looking impressed or even vaguely interested in Eliza’s work, looked horrified. Her hands came up to cover her mouth as she saw Eliza push the bobbins of thread back into the project back and stuff the hoop on top of it, then shove the whole thing back into her backpack. “Mariannick? Are you OK?”
“Do we need to go to the nurse?” Ralph said, sounding nervous. I’d known him since the second grade, and he was already showing the early signs of a crush on the new student. He’d let the flask boil over because he was too busy trying not to look like he was looking at Mariannick while watching her, and doing a bad job of it all around. His hand hovered around her shoulder, as though trying to figure out if he should try to comfort her.
“What in the hell are you doing?” she hollered, causing all of us to jump. The bell rang right at that moment, but the three of us froze as we watched her go from fearful to full of fury. “Do you not know how dangerous that is? And you’re just carrying it around on your back, like it’s nothing?” She threw her hands up in the air and looked to the sky like she was asking for patience from above. “You people, taking your lives into your own hands and you don’t even know it!” She grabbed her own bag and stormed out of the classroom, muttering under her breath the entire time.
“I like her,” Eliza said cheerfully. “She’s got moxie.”
Happy Sunday! Instead of doing a preview video for next week, I decided to try something a little different today. I've noticed that a lot of people were watching the videos, but not coming to the blog to read the stories, so I figured, why not bring the stories to where the people are?
Meanwhile, I used today's prompt from the StoryADay website:
Take a story you’ve already written, and write a new version beginning with the ending scene/situation of the first and see where it takes you.
I decided to take the story I wrote on May 11 and start from there.
“Linda Westman,” she said, still offering her hand to shake. “I’m a reporter, but more importantly, I’m a fixer. I help people in situations that look impossible, and I think this doesn’t even rank in the top ten of impossible situations. For one thing, most everyone already knew you’re the Crimson Wing, so it’s not really news.”
I froze as I was shaking her hand, and she pulled her hand away quickly, shaking it as though she had just touched a stove. Apparently my hands started getting warm with the surprise. “They do? It’s not? Dammit. Now what?”
“Now we re-brand. You, the company, the partnership, everything.” She grinned, and I saw just a hint of villainy in that smile. “It’ll cost you, of course, but I’m well worth the price.”
I sighed. I really hadn’t been looking forward to starting over again, and if it would just cost some money to put out a new story about me, then it might be worthwhile. “Come on. All of you. Let’s take this meeting to my office.” Vincent led the way, unlocking the door as we all walked out of the bathroom and headed to one of the rooms meant for this kind of work. It was going to be a long day.
The lobby was full of reporters, still milling about after the aborted press conference, and it wasn’t long before they spotted me. They started to swarm and I had to concentrate to keep flames from actively shooting from my hands. Before they had a chance to lock me down with their microphones and their questions, Linda started proving her worth. “Ms. Uguns has no comment at this time. When she is ready to make a statement, she will notify you.”
“Linda, you snake!” a perky blonde reporter up front yelped. “I can’t believe you weaseled your way in like that!” The rest of the reporters grumbled along the same lines. Linda, however, didn’t allow it to stop her. Her long black ponytail kept swinging in time with her strides as she moved to the elevator bank, and Anna and Vincent had to hurry to keep up.
I, on the other hand, had a good six inches on Linda, and was able to keep pace easily. Also, I figured it would look better to keep up with her if she was supposed to be some kind of representative for me. “So, where do you think you’re going?” I asked conversationally as she moved confidently to the main elevators. “You’ve not been here before, have you?”
“Nope! This is my first time,” she replied cheerfully. She stopped in front of the panel when the passenger inputs the floor they’re going to and looked at me expectantly. “I figured my first job was to get you away from the jackals, and you would take the navigation over from there. How’d I do?”
I nodded slowly, then tapped my ID badge to the panel and chose my office floor. It was the only floor that was badged, so she wouldn’t have been able to make it in there without either me or one of my team, but she didn’t need to know that yet. “Not bad. It does seem a little rude to call your colleagues jackals like that, since you’re one of them.”
“It’s because I’m one of them that I can call them that,” she said blandly, turning to watch the displays over the elevators to see which was going to arrive first. Vincent and Anna had caught up by then, Anna’s red hair looking a little disheveled and Vincent trying not to sound like he was out of breath. I smiled sympathetically at him. “Trouble getting through the crowd?”
“Well, you two got through so easily, you left us behind!” Anna said shrilly. Vincent rolled his eyes, then pointed to the elevator that had come for us. I ignored Anna completely as we rode up in silence, not saying anything until we got through the doors into my private office and all the doors between were closed. “All right, Linda. What’s the plan?”
“We have a couple of options, as I see it,” she said, sitting on the edge of one of the chairs facing my desk and rooting through her large messenger bag for a notebook and pen. “We can try to discredit Storm Wizard, put out word that he’s going dotty, poor old soul, should have been put out to pasture years ago-”
“Yes, that’s perfect!” Anna interrupted. “It’s like I said, no one will believe him. He’s gotten so old, and doing magic like that is supposed to mess with the mind.” She preened. “We should do that.”
“If we do that, then you’ll have to fire Miss Thing here,” Linda added blandly, pointing her pen at Anna. Anna jumped like she’d been shocked, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. Vincent ducked his head, but not before I saw a smile creep across his face. I felt one on my face, too. “And why would that be?”
“Well, if we discredit Storm Wizard, then there’s no reason on Earth why the company should have gone into any kind of partnership with him,” Linda said, making notes on her pad. “If he’s gone, mentally, then there’s no way he could be an asset to the company, and it would only make sense to fire the person who drove the company into the partnership in the first place. Based on what we got of the press conference, that would be her.” Again, she pointed with her pen, without looking away from me. “So - discredit Storm Wizard, and sacrifice the employee at the altar of the narrative.”
I let the silence play out for a little longer than was strictly comfortable before I sighed and shook my head. “What are our other options? I’m not saying no,” I added, seeing the relief on Anna’s face, “I’m just saying, let’s look at some other plans.” I tried to ignore the disappointment on Vincent’s face. I really did need to get him a raise for all the ruckus he had to deal with.
“Noted. Plan B is to lean into the allegations. Yes, you are the Crimson Wing - or rather, you were. You had your reasons, which we can come up with or leave ambiguous, up to you, but that’s your past. Your present, and your future, is this company.” She looked at me expectantly, pen poised over her notepad.
I leaned back in my chair and templed my fingers. There was a certain elegance to it, as rescues went - it wasn’t inaccurate, since I hadn’t done anything as the Crimson Wing in years, and I had channelled all of my time and considerable resources into my company. Hell, telling investors that they have a (reformed) supervillain leading the company might make some of them more confident in sticking with us - it’s not like any of the big companies aren’t being led by villains. They just don’t have the decency to own it.
“But, doesn’t admitting to being the Crimson Wing mean that she might be arrested for the, uh, acts she committed under that name?” Vincent asked timidly, and my head shot up. “I mean, it would be a great news story, but not if Sofie ends up getting arrested for something that happened years ago.”
Linda waggled her pen in her hand as she thought. “There might be something there,” she mused, making another note. “The best way to know is to find out exactly what the Crimson Wing has been accused of doing, and what’s likely to stick.” She looked at me appraisingly. “Were you ever caught by law enforcement?”
I scoffed. “Please. Getting around the cops is supervillain 101. There were a couple of close calls in the beginning, but they were never able to prove that it was me.” I thought back to my early years, when I was still getting my feet wet and hadn’t even decided on a name yet. “In fact, the one time they had an arrest warrant out for me, it was for an old name. Flamebird, I think? Maybe Great Phoenix - there were a few of them I went through before I landed on Crimson Wing.” I looked at the others in the room and bristled. “It’s not the easiest thing, coming up with a supervillain name.”
“There are online name generators for that kind of thing,” Anna muttered, but I noticed she didn’t meet my eyes. She and Vincent were still standing, even though there were other chairs open for them, and I didn’t want Vincent to be so uncomfortable for however long the meeting would end up being.
“All right, they didn’t have that when I was starting,” I said, standing and moving to the wet bar along one wall of my office. “Go ahead, sit down, let’s have something to drink and figure this out. Vincent, why don’t you grab your laptop so you can get some of your research magic going, and we can figure out what, if anything, the cops could snag me for if I admit to being the Crimson Wing.” I opened the cabinet and pulled down four glasses. “Who wants what?”
Several long hours and a mediocre delivery Thai meal later, we had a list of the crimes that could, in theory, be attributed to the Crimson Wing. Most of them were things that were past the statute of limitations, so they wouldn’t be a problem from the police. There were a couple of arson cases that might be hinky, but the evidence was mostly ash, and so proving that I had anything to do with it would be much more difficult. The deaths were the bigger problem.
“So, can we prove that you didn’t intend to cause their deaths?” Linda asked, picking up the last skewer and contemplating it before dragging it through the rest of the peanut sauce and taking a bite. “I think that would go a long way toward determining if you’d be at fault.”
“Well, I was usually pretty good about not making overt threats or anything,” I mused, digging into my container of pad thai for the last piece of chicken. “There were only three people that died directly due to something I did, and all of them were people I gave plenty of warning to before I did any property damage. They just didn’t take me seriously, I guess.” I chewed the rubbery chicken, thinking hard about the incidents in question.
“I really think we should have brought Alicia into this,” Vincent said again from the table where he’d set up his laptop. “She’s going to be really pissed when she realizes that we’ve been discussing all of this stuff related to your culpability in things and we didn’t call your lawyer.”
I waved his concern away for the fifth time. “I’m telling you, she doesn’t like to know about things until we have things in order. Once we can present her with a definitive list, then we can move forward with what we need to do from a legal standpoint.”
Anna was silently poking at her fried rice from the opposite side of the table from Vincent, sulking and scrolling on her phone. She hadn’t been much help in all of the conversation, and if she hadn’t been a part of the thing that started this whole mess, I would have dismissed her already. Still, I thought it was useful to keep her around, just in case.
There was a pounding at my inner office door, making all of us jump. There was no way someone should have been able to get up here without my knowledge, and yet, there were surprise visitors outside my door. I turned to look at all three of the people in my office in turn, waiting for one of them to tell me what was going on.
Vincent was pale, and he shook his head as soon as I looked at him. Linda frowned, looking both worried and peeved. Anna…Anna refused to meet my eyes. When I looked at her, she ducked her head and sighed, then walked to my door and opened it before any of us had a chance to stop her.
The police walked into my office. She let the police into my personal office. If I didn’t end up in jail, she was so fired. I stood up and, attempting to keep my voice as steady as possible, asked, “Can I help you, officers?”
“Crimson Wing?” the first officer said. She was standing in front of two other cops, shorter than both of them but looking like she had no problem making up for her lack of height with pure spite. She raised an eyebrow at me as she gave me a waterfall look, and I imagined she was unimpressed by my supposed supervillainy.
“That’s an interesting name,” I said blandly. “I’m Sofie Uguns. I’m not sure why you’re asking for that other name.” I kept my hands on my desk and waiting, letting the silence fill the space and maintaining eye contact with the first officer.
She sighed. “We were informed that the supervillain known as the Crimson Wing was in this office, operating under the alias ‘Sofie Uguns.’ If that’s the case, and that’s you, then I need to take you into custody until you answer for your crimes.” She put her hands on her hips, one hand not so subtly on the hilt of her gun. “Will you come with me?”
“Do you have a warrant?” I asked. I turned to Vincent and nodded, and he started texting, hopefully reaching out to Alicia to let her know what was going on. He was probably right, and I probably should have looped her in sooner, but while the best time to bring her in would have been several hours ago, the next best time was right away. I turned back to the officers. “Without a warrant, as I understand things, I don’t have to go anywhere with you right now.”
One of the two other officers scoffed. “Listen to the legal scholar,” he sneered. “Just because you heard it on Law and Order doesn’t mean it’s the way things work, lady.” He also put his hand even less subtly on his gun hilt. The third officer was watching, but hadn’t moved his hands in any way.
“Are you trying to deny her the right to counsel or to know her charges?” Linda said, and I jumped a bit when I realized she was standing next to me with her phone out. “I’d be very interested to hear about that. Linda Westman, NPR,” she added.
The name of a news organization took the wind right out of their sails. The first officer nodded to the others and took her hands off her hips. “When we have a warrant, we’ll be back,” she promised. “I don’t recommend leaving anytime soon.” She spun on her heel and stormed out the door, slamming it behind her.
Vincent, Linda, and I all turned to Anna, who had the decency to look abashed. “Well, I’m guessing that didn’t go according to plan,” I said, crossing my hands over my chest. I felt the heat from my palms swell, and I took some deep, measured breaths to cool them off.
“You’re a villain,” she blurted out. “You need to pay for your crimes.” She stared me down defiantly. Lord save me from the sanctimonious. I was going to have to do something with her, I just needed to figure out what. I turned to Linda. “Any ideas?”
Good Saturday morning! I've done my rankings for the Writer's Toolbox, since I finished using the devices in there this week. Overall, it's fair to middling - the Shiny ranking is not great.
Part of what knocked down the Shiny ranking is the quality of the pieces. The sticks are an awkward size and shape, and the way they're held in the box makes it difficult to pull them out and put them away after use. I felt like it would be easier to have some kind of work-around, rather than using them as provided, like a cup or a bag to shuffle them up and then another bag or clip to hold them together afterwards. Also, the content of the sticks got a little...strange, at times.
Similarly, the dials for the Protagonist Game feel a little flimsy. The part that spins on them is a thick paper, it feels like, and it seems like it would be easy to tear or bend it. As I show in the videos I used it, it's also very easy to end up on the same result multiple times - I don't think there are many options on each wheel, so the reuse value is questionable.
They were fun to use, though as one of my friends commented, the overall box definitely skews toward contemporary fiction (as opposed to historical or speculative fiction). I tend to prefer things that either lean in a more speculative direction, or don't have a strong bias in any direction, so it doesn't feel like it's pushing me down a particular path.
Now, onto today's story! I used the StoryADay website prompt from May 15 for this, because it sparked something right away:
Write a single or series of journal entries in first person where your character is exploring something in a set time period – hours in the day, a week, a few years. The entries must end on a note where she/he/they find out or realize that things have never been what they seemed.
April 7, 2019, morning
I start the new job today! It’s been a while since I’ve been the new kid - I had my last job for so long, I felt like I had helped hire half the people I worked with. Still, it’ll be good to get started in a completely new space. Going from a big company to a little non-profit is probably going to be a bit of a culture shock, but I think it could be good to have a clear shift in my work life. Things ended so badly at the last place, I need something that’s so different from that experience. Still, I’m nervous. I hate coming into a new space where everyone knows what they’re doing and has been in place for a while, and then I come in and they have to make space for me. It reminds me of being the new kid at school, and that was never easy. I just wish adulthood was less like high school than it is - I could have sworn I had teachers who told me that the high school stuff ended when you graduate, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.
Time to see what the new place holds! I’m still not entirely sure what the organization does, but I’m sure I’ll have some time to do more research once I’m there and have something solid to grab onto.
Evening:
OK, that was…different. The people seemed pretty nice, though I think the bookkeeper doesn’t like me for some reason. I’m not sure what I did to irritate her, but I’m going to have to keep an eye out on that relationship.
My new boss showed me around, then dropped me at a desk and told me that I’d be hearing from my “other boss” shortly. I remembered that, at the interview, they had said that I would be working for two different teams in this role (which is a brand new role that’s never been filled before, so I guess I’m going to be creating it for myself), but I hadn’t realized that I was going to literally have two bosses. That doesn’t feel great, and I’m going to have to talk to them to figure out who does what in terms of the basic HR stuff. Then again, I don’t think there is an HR department here - it’s a really small place, so I guess they figure they can handle things as they come up? That might get awkward when I have to ask for accommodations, but I can already tell that the place where my desk is is going to trigger my headaches pretty badly unless I do something about the lights.
I’m in a big team room with two other people, both of whom seemed pretty busy with their own work and didn’t have much time to talk to me. They did have time to complain about the people they work with, though - I got to hear a lot of stuff about people I really hope I don’t have to work with myself, because again, awkward. I’m not used to that much negativity right out of the gate, but we’ll see. Maybe they were just having a bad day.
I didn’t hear from my other boss until I was almost ready to leave, and she called - I guess she doesn’t work in the office itself? Anyway, she’s going to meet me at the office tomorrow and we’re going to go over some more details of what my work supporting her will be, and then I’ll try to set up a similar meeting with the boss in the office to get some details. I hate having the ambiguity, so the sooner I can get things hammered down, the better I’ll feel.
Since no one seemed to know what to do with me, I spent most of the day reading through some of the documents and information related to the organization. There’s a book that apparently regulates how everything is supposed to happen, and it’s dense, and written in some kind of pseudo-legalese, which is annoying - it’s like they’re trying to make it sound “important” without understanding how to use that language correctly. There are terms in there that I haven’t been able to find definitions for - something about a “great lizard” keeps coming up, and how they’re eligible to work in the schools, but that makes it sound like there’s a dragon in charge of the universities, and that’s obviously not the case. For one, dragons aren’t real, and for two, I don’t really think they’d be interested in running a school. Who knows, though? Maybe there are dragons up in the ivory tower. (The book keeps talking about an ivory tower, too, like it’s a real thing and not a metaphor. I swear, whoever wrote this thing would have benefitted from a writing course or two.)
Either way, tomorrow I meet my other boss, and hopefully I’ll get some more details on what exactly I’m supposed to do. I know it’s going to involve a lot of paperwork, and I’ve already taken a look at some of the files - oof. They definitely need some help. Fortunately, my inner librarian is very ready to set up some organizational systems and beat the paperwork into submission. This is going to be fun, I think.
April 8, evening
So that was unexpected. My other boss is one of the leaders of the school of theology, which is one of the schools under this university umbrella (I still haven’t figured out the whole structure, and no one’s given me a clear organizational chart yet), and yeah, she’s a dragon. She’s a dragon. I think if I keep saying it, it might sink in, but I don’t think it’s working. She’s a dragon, and she lives in the ivory tower. There’s a literal ivory tower on the main campus, which I didn’t see, because my office isn’t on the main campus, and she’s a DRAGON.
Dragons don’t look like I expected them to. At least, she doesn’t look like what I expected a dragon to look like. I didn’t even realize it right away, until I noticed that her eyes were different. She has those slits for pupils that lizards have, and her eyes blink sideways, and once I noticed that, I couldn’t not notice the fine line of scales along her hairline, but they’re the same color as her hair, so they blend in a little, except they catch the light and glitter just a little bit, and I guess I was staring, because she started to laugh and asked me if I’d never met a dragon before. So, yeah. My boss is a dragon. Well, one of them is. She gave me some more information, that I’m still trying to absorb, and there are only a few dragons that work at the university, and they’re all the heads of the individual schools - she almost made it sound like upon becoming the head of the school, a person BECOMES a dragon? I don’t know. I just know that there are only a few of them, and they aren’t, like, fire-breathing, people-eating monsters (though she did tell me to keep an eye out for the head of the agricultural school, but that might be because he’s a creep more than because he’s a people-eater).
I work for a dragon. I left the corporate world, where everyone says it’s full of snakes, and now I’m working for a DRAGON.
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