MeiLin Miranda's Blog, page 5
January 24, 2014
Chapter 15 Episode 1 | The Machine God | The Drifting Isle Chronicles
Hildy gasped and stood up from her perch on the desk. "You can't expect me to believe that. A technology that powerful--that's approaching magic!"
"Magic, yes, it does sound like that, does it not?" Adewole switched tacks. "What makes black mercury so powerful, Hildy? Have you isolated what it might be?"
"Black mercury? What about it? What does it have to do with the rising of the island?"
"The ancients of Cherholtz--the city that became Risenton--called it ichor. It means 'blood of the gods.' It is more than a mechanical propellant. Yes, it can be used for that, but if one knows the old secrets it can be used for magic. The Risentoners make an oath at thirteen never to use magic and metal together, and I have discovered why: the ultimate fusing of magic and metal to create power akin to a god's, a Machine God, if you will." Hildy cocked her head and crossed her arms, but he pressed on. "The manuscript I have found details how to make such a god, and I have discovered what happened when he did. The God raised the island a thousand years ago. Thousands, perhaps tens, hundreds of thousands, died." At this point, her not believing him almost appealed. He could say, Ha ha, I was only joking, Miss Goldstein, no, I really need to get back up there because... Because what?
January 3, 2014
Chapter 14 Episode 3 | The Machine God | The Drifting Isle Chronicles
Two days after he regained consciousness, Adewole's condition had improved. Major Berger's attaché Isidore Lentzen had been by to see him, asking whether the professor knew where Deviatka might have gone to ground. He could say no with a clear conscience, as he was unsure himself. Doctor Ansel allowed him cautious walks through the hallways, clutching the ratty bathrobe Mrs. Trudge had brought from his wardrobe; a nurse always followed behind toting the basket crammed full of food Mrs. Trudge sent daily--far, far more than he could eat. He'd been passing it out to the other patients, a plausible excuse to get out of bed and a chance to scope out the hospital. Doctor Ansel's caution emanated from nothing more sinister than concern for his patient, but Adewole increasingly felt held prisoner. Back on his feet now, he had to plot an escape.
Chapter 14 Episode 2 | The Machine God | The Drifting Isle Chronicles
When Adewole woke again he felt almost human. The nurses had removed the restraints around his head, and he gingerly turned toward the window and its view of the city and Lake Sherrat. In the distance floated Risenton. "I have to go back," he murmured.
"You're not going anywhere," said Siegfried Ansel from the doorway. He entered the room, put his stethoscope to his ears, and listened to the arteries in Adewole's neck. "A damn close thing, Professor," he said as he checked his patient's pulse points. "I'm still surprised you didn't bleed out before we found you. Let me help you sit up, there's a good man."
Adewole's almost-recovered voice still rubbed raw on the ear. "Why did I not?"
Chapter 14 Episode 1 | The Machine God | The Drifting Isle Chronicles
Eisenstadt, Oktober 13th
Adewole woke up. His throat burned inside and out, and his nose was rubbed raw. He lay not on the floor but on something soft and yielding. His head still ached, but only when he moved--and movement was difficult. His arms, his legs, all of him moved as if he struggled against a strong current pushing him down toward blackness. "Water," he croaked.
"He said something," said a voice nearby. Adewole forced his eyes to slit open. The voice's owner came into hazy view above him: a middle-aged woman in the blue-and-white stripes of a nurse, her graying hair caught back in a voluminous white kerchief. "Professor, can you hear me? I can't understand you."
"He's speaking in Jerian, he asked for water," said a more cultured, charmingly dry voice, a woman older than the first.
The nurse pressed a water-soaked cloth to his lips. He tried to turn his head toward the other woman, but something kept his head and neck in place. The nurse placed a cool, restraining hand on his forehead. "Professor Adewole, you cannot move your head, please stay still until the doctor comes and sees you. You must not move. I'll wring the water into your mouth--don't worry, I'll give you more."
December 18, 2013
Chapter 13 Part 3 | The Machine God | The Drifting Isle Chronicles
“It's me,” said Deviatka.
Someone must go to the Guard, but he couldn’t walk—couldn’t see. “Fetch Ansel,” Adewole moaned. The room swam in dizzying, swirling patterns like odd-metal.
“What looks like odd-metal, old thing?” said Deviatka.
Adewole realized he was speaking aloud, not to himself. “Who could have done this to Buckan?” he whispered through his nausea. “When did you find him?”
“He was going through your papers. He didn’t find what he was looking for, though. Neither did I—well, I didn’t find everything I was looking for.”
The sparkling white receded enough to reveal Deviatka leaning against the now-closed door—or rather, two Deviatkas; Adewole’s vision refused to resolve. “I do not understand. He was alive?” said Adewole.
“Please don’t play the confused academic, Ollie, it makes us all look bad.”
“I am not playing.” Adewole put his hand to his head and pulled it back wet and sticky. “Karl, what have you done?”
December 8, 2013
IN SOVIET RUSSIA HAT WEAR YOU
We are having what is for Portland bitterly cold weather! It got down to 12F last night. This is a problem for me; my heart condition is such that breathing cold air can bring on angina. Happened on Friday.
So I broke out the bunny hat! This is me (on the left)and my fellow bunny-wearing friend Ima. We are the Bunny Hat Gang. Hand over the chai and no one gets hurt!
Wherever you are, I hope you're warm!
December 3, 2013
Chapter 13 Episode 2 | The Machine God | The Drifting Isle Chronicles
Deviatka pressed him for the latest news on the Vatterbroch manuscript. "There is nothing to tell, truly, Karl," lied Adewole. "I am not finished with the translation, and it is as likely to be a fantasy or a religious treatise as some fantastical engineering project. I am following the manuscript's trails into related books--we have had to dig deep in the protected stacks, and even then many of the works referenced are missing. I presume they no longer exist--lost for all time, sadly."
"Sad, indeed," said Deviatka, "but can you really tell me nothing more about the manuscript? You cannot share what you have done so far?"
Just then, Wirtz buzzed in with the brandy tray, said goodnight, and left. Adewole shifted in his chair and poured himself a larger than usual glass. "Why are you so set on this, Karl?"
November 28, 2013
When in Doubt, Read
I've been having a lot of trouble writing this year--a lot, especially the third History book. I've cranked out some short stories and edited The Machine God, but otherwise it's been dismal. I had some reason; of the last eleven months, I spent three flat on my back, sick abed. It took the wind out of my sails, and my self-confidence with it.
When in doubt, read.
I was at the Goodwill yesterday and went through the books. This particular Goodwill is well-stocked. I got a bagful of books for less than the cost of two mainstream publishers' ebooks. Used does not support the authors, which makes me sad, but right now it's the best I can do.
This is what I came home with, all things I've never read:
November 27, 2013
Chapter 13 Episode 1 | The Machine God | The Drifting Isle Chronicles
Oktober 5th
Adewole put on his spectacles and opened the notebook to the addendum containing Vatterbroch's spells--the section he'd had trouble believing before Alleine, and so had left until the end. As he worked, he rewrote the mixed runic style into the standard script used in Old Rhendalian, adding diacritical marks denoting different pronunciations. He'd explain them in an appendix--if he ever published. This was not the usual scholarly project. Occasional murmurs came from the little spirit in his satchel, and he reassured her in the same low tone. It was rather comforting in a way; his sister Ofira used to interrupt him as he worked.
First he looked at the music for the incantations. Its notation sprang from the same source as Dumastran music; a modern musician, unless specially trained, would be hard-pressed to follow it. He hummed a few lines, thought better of it, and returned to the spells themselves.
November 22, 2013
Chapter 12 Episode 3 | The Machine God | The Drifting Isle Chronicles
Alleine fell silent for so long Adewole wondered if she'd run out of ichor at last, until she began again. "But I spose Maria Kyper's dead, huh? I can't really figure it, their all bein' dead."
"I am afraid so, my dear," said Adewole, trying to keep her thoughts more cheerful for the moment. "Tell me now, what else did they sell in the marketplace, and how big was the place?"
Alleine prattled on about dresses in soft cottons and warm wools she wished she could have bought for her Mam, tin lanterns, copper pots, bright carpets from Dumastra--Cherholtz knew of far-off Dumastra but not of Jero. Always she returned to the food: sweet pickles from great big barrels, sausages wrapped in flat bread, little grilled river fish on sticks, roasted chickpeas in paper cones. "Sometimes at end of day a stallkeeper'll gives me a leftover fish or somethin', especially if it's burnt. Usually they just kick at me, but that's all right, I'm faster'n they are," she said cheerfully. "And when they don't miss, well, it's worth the askin'. Some days that's all there is to eat. I never ask the sausage man, though. Once he held out a sausage and then he took it away and fed it to his dog right in front of me. Never ast him again, the bastard. Oh, I'm sorry, Ollie, I shouldn'a said that word."
"Never mind, child, go on," he said, smiling into his notebook as he wrote.
