MeiLin Miranda's Blog, page 11
July 10, 2013
Chapter 5 Episode 4 | The Machine God | The Drifting Isle Chronicles
Peter sat down next to Deviatka to finish his sandwich. “Ask him what they eat here,” said Deviatka.
Peter shrugged at Adewole’s translated question. “Depends on what’s to hand. Ma does well with frog, rat or snake—rabbit and goat when times’re good, but most all our rabbit and goat go to the City. Most everything goes to the City.”
“And when times are bad?”
“Times’re allus bad. Thass what angler bugs’re for.”
“Ask him what an angler bug is,” said Deviatka.
July 8, 2013
Chapter 18 Part 3 | Son in Sorrow | IHGK Book 2
Though it was not Malla's intent, Temmin closed his face to the world. He spent more time in the less-senior clergy's beds and gave Allis no more than his polite, rather stoic regard. He declined any assignment that might lead to physical intimacy between them--indeed, any assignment that might lead to them being alone. Supplicants were not allowed to pick and choose, but now the senior clergy let him.
As he withdrew, Allis did her best to let Temmin go. He would leave at Nerr's Day anyway, and here it was almost Neya's Day. But he stuck to her heart like a burr, a ball of tiny hooks she could never remove no matter how hard she tried. She'd done quite well at hiding the depth of her love from Issak and the Most Highs, but to herself she despaired. He would be gone soon, she would stay behind in a beautiful, pink, plush prison, and they'd rarely see one another for at least ten more years.
July 5, 2013
Chapter 18 Part 2 | Son in Sorrow | IHGK Book 2
The Mothers were nothing if not efficient. Twenna found herself packed and ready to go in two days, her gray uniform returned to the laundry and her fine clothes from her former life sold in exchange for four plain dresses, two of cotton and two of wool, and a warm wool cloak; she kept her beautiful underthings, stowed these last spokes in a paper box under her bed. The Captain paid for her to keep her sturdy gray shawl, her Mother's House underthings, her boots, Rikki's clothes, his sling and a supply of diapers. "I will buy you more when we are in Hawksfield, my dear, but this will do for now."
July 3, 2013
Chapter 5 Episode 3 | The Machine God | The Drifting Isle Chronicles
The road warden and his kin asked Peter many questions in a fast patter; Adewole had trouble keeping up. The warden knew about the expedition from Dunalow already. Were they oathbreakers? Not as far as he knew, Peter said, since they hadn’t taken the oath to begin with, but yes, they did have metal flying machines as they’d heard; Peter had seen them himself. Adewole wondered how the warden had learned about them. Many couriers had passed them, but all at a fast walk not a run; none had stopped to talk, and none as far as he knew had seen the flying machines.
July 1, 2013
Chapter 18 Part 1 | Son in Sorrow | IHGK Book 2
The 40th day of Spring's Beginning, 992 KY
Meggan Esterill entered Twenna's tiny room with a perfunctory knock. "He's come again."
"Hush, Rikki just fell asleep," said Twenna, her foot rocking the baby's cradle. "Who's come?"
Meggan dropped her voice. "You know very well who. Captain Marr." She sat down beside Twenna on the bed.
Twenna tried to avoid her pointed look. "Oh…oh. He's serious, isn't he."
"Not to be put off, I'd say. This is his sixth visit in two weeks. Come, he's waiting for you in an alcove."
June 30, 2013
Why I'm Finally Leaving CreateSpace for LSI
I have been trying to get The Machine God printed since April. I have a book signing Friday. I guess I won't be signing (or selling) my latest because CreateSpace can't manage to print a simple graphic.
June 29, 2013
GearCon, July 5-7, Portland, OR--I'll be there!
I will be paneling at GearCon, Portland's own steampunk convention, this coming weekend, July 5-7, 2013. Here's my schedule; the name after the time is that of the room at the Doubletree Lloyd Center:
Friday 3PM – Morrison: Pinterest for Creatives
Friday 5PM – Morrison: Book Reading, Signing and Author Chat
Friday 7PM – Hawthorne: Westward Ho! Independent Publishing & Crowd Funding
Saturday 6PM - Morrison: Steampunking American Literature
Saturday 7PM – Sellwood: Stranger than Fiction
Sunday 11AM - Multnomah & Holladay: Mega Writer's Panel
June 28, 2013
Chapter 17 Part 7 | Son in Sorrow | IHGK Book 2
Temmin stood before the Most High Beloved. "Am I excused as well, Most High?"
She studied him coolly. "You are excused. While I know you don't need to practice the Eight, I may say there are other disciplines you must work at more diligently--as you have been reminded before. I trust you are clear now on this matter, Temmin Supplicant?"
"Very, Most High," he bit off, all pretense at calm abandoned. He kissed her hand and retrieved his crumpled tunic from the couch, where Allis wiped the sweat from her body. He bowed. "Forgive me if I don't give the customary kiss." She gave him a serene, disinterested nod; he turned on his heel and stalked from the room. Perhaps it hadn't all been Malla's idea.
June 26, 2013
Chapter 5 Episode 2 | The Machine God | The Drifting Isle Chronicles
The autogyros returned with the support crew, the mission readied itself, and the explorers moved out. Sergeant Jagels and Corporal Wirtz took picket. Peter Oster followed; the two professors and Major Berger walked beside him. Signalman Oberman rode herd over Doctor Ansel, who was forever finding matters of high biological interest on the roadside, and Lieutenant Lentzen and Corporal von Sülzle brought up the rear.
The journey took them along what Peter called the Great Road, which he said ran around the island’s entire circumference: “They do say a wall once stood here, all round the island.” A pastiche of stone and bricks, many crumbling, made up the road’s surface, repaired piecemeal over centuries. Time had eroded what must have been wheel ruts; animals had once drawn carts here. No carts traveled the road now as far as Adewole could tell. Barrowmen and fast-moving people on foot passed them in both directions, most hailing Peter Oster and goggling at the expedition, especially Adewole. Those on foot—the ones Peter called couriers, who delivered small packages and messages—slowed down to stare at the party, often walking backwards to get a good long look. No one ever stopped; Peter said unlike him, they couldn’t afford to. “Couriers and such, their job’s in not stoppin’. Do I stop, I get work. Not them. See Kolbsgate in the distance?” said Peter, nodding toward a stone edifice far off down the road. “Thass that we go to.”
