Deborah J. Ross's Blog, page 76

Short Book Reviews: Prohibition, Booze Running, and Demonic Possession in Roaring Twenties Long Island

My introduction to the work of Molly Tanzer was her novel, Creatures of Will and Temper, a 19th century urban fantasy revolving around The Portrait of Dorian Gray, and demonic possession. Creatures of Want and Ruin takes place in the Roaring Twenties on Long Island, New York. The common thread between the two books is the role of demons controlling human lives. Demons take possession of people who freely agree to the arrangement, granting their hosts long life, wealth, beauty, or in this case the ability to detect falsehoods and to compel others to tell the truth. In exchange demons receive various experiences that can come about only through physical incarnation. Some demons are benign, but others are highly malevolent. Demons pass summoning instructions through generations or encoded in children’s books, as is the case here.

In this story two women from very different walks of life encounter unsettling changes in the sleepy community of Amityville. (The Amityville Horror, it should be said, lies decades in the future and does not play a part in this story.) One of the women is a boat woman engaged in the moonshine smuggling trade during Prohibition. The other is the wife of a newly wealthy Gatsby type of social idler who finds herself increasingly alienated from her husband and his party loving, booze zwilling friends. Spooky things are afoot: illegal liquor that causes most people to hallucinate. a preacher who gathers bigger and bigger crowds, bent on ridding their community of immigrants and anyone who isn't a white Protestant. And creepiest of all, slimy fungus growths that appear and spread.

The characters are engaging and the story moves right along. The creepiness grows, step by Lovecraftian step. Just when you think nothing more terrible could happen, something else goes disastrously wrong. Stopping the white nationalist mob and defeating the fungus-monster necessitate finding out the truth, which is where the bargain with the demon comes in. There are moments of sweetness, of courage, and of terrible but necessary choices. I loved every page of it and I'm eagerly looking forward to Tanzer’s next.

The usual disclaimer: I received a review copy of this book, but no one bribed me to say anything about it.

Today's Moment of Art

Arizona, by Maxfield Parrish (1870-1966)

Sword and Sorceress 33 Author Interviews: Melissa Mead

Enter a wondrous universe…the latest volume of Sword and Sorceress, featuring stories from new and seasoned authors. Herein you will find tales of fantasy with strong female characters, with some version of either martial skill or magic. Not all the protagonists will be human, and sometimes the magic will take highly original forms, but the emotional satisfaction in each story and in the anthology as a whole, remains true to the original vision. The release date will be November 2, 2018.
ePub: https://www.books2read.com/u/b62gG6Kindle: https://amzn.to/2NitlHH


Deborah J. Ross: Tell us a little about yourself.  How did you come to be a writer?Melissa Mead:  I don't remember when I wasn't telling stories, even before I could write them. My first attempt to write a story for publication actually came about when my then-husband suggested that I write a story for Sword and Sorceress, but they weren't open to general submissions at that time. My first submissions (and rejections) were in 1997. My first publication was in The First Line, in 1999.
DJR: What inspired your story in Sword and Sorceress 33?Mm: Thinking that it's kinda creepy how so many girls in fairy tales end up marrying "Prince Charming" without knowing anything about him, or him knowing anything about her. And why WOULD the rulers of a kingdom need to invite every eligible maiden in the kingdom to a ball to get the heir to the throne married off, anyway?
DJR: What authors have most influenced your writing?  What about them do you find inspiring? Mm: Gosh, probably more than I realize. I wish I had Terry Pratchett's wisdom and humor, Robin McKinley's gift for making familiar fairy tales come alive in new ways, and Lois McMaster Bujold's general brilliance. She writes the way I wish I did. And Gail Carson Levine inspires me not only with her work, but the wise and kind advice she gives to new writers in her blog. I'm sure I'm missing many more.
DJR: Why do you write what you do, and how does your work differ from others in your genre? MM: Well, I write more than fairy tales, but I come back to those because they come with a set of assumptions that readers think they know, and it's fun to play with those. More than one editor has told me that I take stories in odd directions.
DJR: How does your writing process work? DJR: Far too slowly. I get an idea, write as much as I can, then stare at the screen in frustration. Sometimes I'll combine parts of 2 or more stalled stories to make a new one.
DJR: What have you written recently? What lies ahead? MM: Mostly flash, most of which is available from Daily Science Fiction. I'm also attempting a trilogy, which is about as far from flash as I can imagine. I don't know what came over me.
DJR: What advice would you give an aspiring writer? MM: Read everything. Fiction, non-fiction, whatever strikes your fancy. It'll all float around in your brain until some alchemical process makes it into stories.And write. Even if you think it's crappy. First drafts are SUPPOSED to be crappy. Even if you don't like how the story comes out now, you may be able to come back and rewrite it when you've had more experience. Ex: I recently sold a rewrite of a story that I wrote in school about 30 years ago. So for now, just have fun!
Melissa Mead lives in upstate NY. She loves messing with fairy tales. Several have appeared in Sword and Sorceress anthologies, and she's also the author of the Twisted Fairytale Flash Series at Daily Science Fiction. Her web page is https://carpelibris.wordpress.com

Love and Death: Would You Like a Little Romance with Your Action?

Crossing genres is hot business these days: science fiction mysteries, paranormal romance, romantic thrillers, Jane Austen with horror, steampunk love stories, you name it. A certain amount of this mixing-and-matching is marketing. Publishers are always looking for something that is both new and "just like the last bestseller." An easy way to do this is to take standard elements from successful genres and combine them.

As a reader, I've always enjoyed a little tenderness and a tantalizing hint of erotic attraction in even the most technologically-based space fiction. For me, fantasy cries out for a love story, a meeting of hearts as well as passion. As a writer, however, it behooves me to understand why romance enhances the overall story so that I can use it to its best advantage.

By romance, I mean a plot thread that involves two (or sometimes more) characters coming to understand and care deeply about one another, usually but not necessarily with some degree of sexual attraction. This is in distinction to Romance, which (a) involves a structured formula of plot elements -- attraction, misunderstanding and division, reconciliation; (b) must be the central element of the story; (c) has rules about gender, exclusivity and, depending on the market, the necessity or limitations on sexual interactions. These expectations create a specific, consistent reader experience, which is a good thing in that it is reliable. However, the themes of love and connection, of affection and loyalty, of understanding, acceptance and sacrifice, are far bigger.

In my own reading and writing, I prefer the widest definition of "love story."
can love one another without sexual attraction and people can love more than one other person, usually in different ways and to different degrees. (For an example of what I'm talking about here, see my Darkover novels, Hastur Lord and The Alton Gift, which involve a three-way love triad in which each character must deal with the others with honesty and compassion.) With the addition of non-human characters -- aliens, angels/demons/vampires/werewolves, faeries and other magical creatures, sentient computers and the like -- the possibilities multiply enormously.

I believe that action/adventure, regardless of the genre, is deepened and enhanced by romance, and also that love stories work better when the level of peril is intensified. For one thing, both adventures and falling in love (or growing in love, or discovering that love has always been there) both involve a character taking a risk. Whether the character goes after the evil Empire, battles a dragon, lands on an unexplored planet -- or opens her own heart -- there is always the possibility that something may go terribly wrong. All too often, safe stories are boring stories. Something must be at stake, and the higher the stakes, the more reasons we have to care about what happens.

I've never subscribed to the cliche of the hero and heroine falling into one another's arms, consumed with lust, in the middle of frenzied life-or-death conflict. (My libido certainly doesn't work that way, which might be the explanation.) Such a moment might be the occasional for realizing how much one character cares for the other, when at any moment the beloved might be killed/captured/brainwashed/turned into baby-alien fodder. That moment of inner honesty escalates the stakes for the character (and, hopefully, the reader). I like to see that realization played out and savored, not exposed and consummated in wham-bam-thank-you-m'am style.

Love stories are not just about connecting with another person; they are about connecting with ourselves. In good love stories, the character struggles with internal obstacles -- memories, ideologies, character flaws -- as well as external ones. In romantic adventure, the two types of conflict mirror one another. Neither is resolvable without the other. The heroine cannot defeat the dragon until she masters herself. (Or, in a tragedy, the hero's own nature becomes his undoing; for example, Orpheus.)

Both love and crisis can force a character to re-examine her priorities. What's really important -- the way her hair looks or the thousand Bug-Eyed Monsters about to invade her home town? Who does she want to be -- the social butterfly or the executioner? Rambo or Mother Teresa? Miss Marple or Indiana Jones? Buffy or Albert Einstein?

Who does she love? What is she willing to do to protect those she loves? What will she do when faced with a choice between her own happiness and the fate of a stranger -- or a planet -- or a race of magical beings?

Romance allows us to "ratchet up the stakes" in these decisions, pitting personal concerns against altruism, what is right against what is self-serving. Adventure allows us to play out the journeys of the heart in the outer world, exploring more deeply the transformative and healing nature of love itself.

Today's Moment of Art

Figure in a Rowboat, by Albertus Del Orient Browere (1814 – 1887)

Sword and Sorceress 33 Author Interviews: Jennifer Linnea

Enter a wondrous universe…the latest volume of Sword and Sorceress, featuring stories from new and seasoned authors. Herein you will find tales of fantasy with strong female characters, with some version of either martial skill or magic. Not all the protagonists will be human, and sometimes the magic will take highly original forms, but the emotional satisfaction in each story and in the anthology as a whole, remains true to the original vision. The release date will be November 2, 2018.
ePub: https://www.books2read.com/u/b62gG6Kindle: https://amzn.to/2NitlHH

Deborah J. Ross: How does your writing process work?Jennifer Linnea: I have a day job, so I write for a few hours every morning before work. Sometimes I write in coffee shops, alone or with other writers, but most of the time I write in my home office. It’s a tiny room decorated with images from stories that have inspired me throughout my life – Jim Henson’s Labyrinth and Dark Crystal, R.A. Salvatore’s Drizzt novels, and Star Wars, to name a few. I also keep a shelf with my favorite speculative fiction novels, and another with books about writing. Everything else is pretty loose: some days I compose on a computer, other times I write longhand; sometimes I start with a writing exercise or journalling, sometimes I jump right in. But there’s always tea. Lots of tea in iron teapots and gaiwans and mugs with tigers on them. And once in a while, if I’m trying to finish a project, I set aside an entire day. Days spent writing are some of my favorite days. 
DJR: What advice would you give an aspiring writer? JL: Find people who can critique your work, and whose work you can critique. If the critiques all say the same thing – listen! Then rewrite. It will make your writing better, and help you self-correct in time. As a beginning writer, I thought a story had to be working in the first draft or it was a failure, but that’s not true. Rewriting critiqued manuscripts and helping other writers improve theirs was how I went from aspiring writer to published writer. (Incidentally, “The Secret Army” was critiqued by about six people and then rewritten into the draft I submitted to Sword and Sorceress.)

Short Book Reviews: When World-Building Isn't Enough

Revenant Gun by Yoon Ha Lee is the third and last volume of the trilogy, “Machineries of Empire,” that began with Ninefox Gambit and Raven Stratagem. I absolutely loved the first two books with the concept of a space-faring empire based on a mathematically derived calendar. It tickled my geeky self that to see mathematicians highly valued in a society. It struck me as weird and wonderful that a revolution could happen through the means of instituting a new calendar. In this universe exotic effects make space flight and many other things — including immortality — possible, and these effects are in turn the result of the way human beings conceptualize time. (Of course everyone is not on the same page about which calendar is the correct one.) I loved the way this creative intersection of mathematics and physics and culture interacted with the tendency of humans to form armies on opposing sides. I was intrigued, if sometimes a bit appalled, by the Immolation Fox, Shuos Jedao, a brilliant general who committed unspeakable atrocities many hundreds of years ago and whose physical remains are incarcerated in something called a black cradle but whose mind now occupies the body of a fairly ordinary woman in the soldier caste.

“Which one are you?” it asked Jedao-Cheris-whoever.

“Whoever I need to be,” Jedao-Cheris-whoever said. Their eyes were sad. “I used to be one person. I was a Kel. Now I have fragments of a dead man in my head.”

Revenant Gun begins with Jedao awakening in a body much older than his self-perceived age and quite ignorant of recent history, as well as all the things that he supposedly knows about military strategy. To my disappointment I found that the magic had gone out of the story arc. The gimmick of space flight by via calendrical manipulation had lost its luster, and the characters and their interactions seemed artificial and forced. There is one extremely nifty revelation about halfway through the book, which I won't say reveal because it’s a major spoiler. Suffice it to say that even though I found this on a par with the wacky and delightful inventiveness of the world-building in the first two books, it was not enough to sustain my interest through this climactic volume. I really wanted to see the revelation played out in all its consequences and implications, and was sadly disappointed.

Alas, long sections of the book were tedious to the point of being boring, and it felt like slogging through far too many pages to get to an unsatisfying ending. It's hard to put my finger on exactly why I felt this. Certainly there are interesting characters, particularly the servitors, mechanical servants who have their own culture. I think the world-building was imaginative enough to carry a single stand-alone volume, but when stretched out to a trilogy it could not sustain the length. Lee is a highly competent writer whose prose ranges from proficient to soaring. I know as a writer myself how easy it is to become so enchanted with a world of my own devising that I want to spend many, many pages exploring it. The result is a static travelogue, unless there are compelling characters and ever-rising dramatic tension. I especially enjoy writing and reading stories in which inner conflict parallels external struggle, and where the protagonist must grow and change in order to overcome both. It may have been the author’s deliberate portrayal of ambivalence, which is in general a good thing because then the reader is free to make up his own mind about moral issues, but it seems to me that the interpersonal and galactic-level conflicts belonged in different stories. I didn’t experience any resonance between the layers of conflict. Not only that, there was a loss of dramatic shape, of escalating tension and heightened stakes. At least, I think that's what's what was going on that made it so easy for me to put put the book down even during the climactic scenes.

I will freely admit that my reaction to this third volume is highly personal and that another reader might find this to be a satisfying conclusion to the trilogy. Certainly, Lee’s work is much above a great deal of what is being published today, and I very much want to support and encourage the kind of world- and culture-building involved in these three books. Fortunately, the first two volumes can be read on their own, although I would not advise that for this final volume. If you’ve enjoyed the earlier ones, go for it.


The usual disclaimer: I received a review copy of this book, but no one bribed me to say anything about it.

Scrub Jay Cuteness

Scrub jays, despite the humdrum name, are wonderful birds, smart, fearless, and opinionated. Plus, beautiful blue plumage. My older daughter, an avid bird-watcher, caught this fine fellow in our back yard.


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Today's Moment of Art

The Glen, by Maxfield Parrish (1870-1966)

Autumn 2018 Newsletter

Deborah's Autumn 2018 Newsletter (from the redwoods)(to view or subscribe, go here:
It’s a beautiful autumn here in the redwoods, a time of reflection and appreciation for the richness of life. (This is a longish letter, so look for the three dots on the lower left that mean [More].)
Publishing NewsI’ve begun the process of bringing out print editions of my short fiction collections, previously available only as ebooks.

With my usual trepidation, I set up an account, carefully noted the code for the discount, and uploaded the files. To my dismay, I got a series of error messages in red letters. The result was overwhelming paralysis. It was hard enough to get this far and make all these check-the-box decisions, but then to be told the this or the that didn’t meet their requirements and the results would be dreadful, was more than I could cope with. I saved the draft, signed off, and binge-watched Grey’s Anatomy for the evening. The next day I returned to the fray, determined to “do science” and investigate just what they meant by “inferior results.” I ordered a proof copy.

 







The proof arrived promptly. All the aspects the website got so upset about turned out just as polished and crisp as anything out of a traditional publisher. The interior in particular is elegant and easy to read. With the matte cover finish, the book has an exquisite “hand feel.”
Plus…I did it myself. Well, with a lot of help from my friends, which is why you’ll see the BVC logo on cover and interior. Plus…you can order it through your favorite bookstore as well as online vendors. Or here, through the BVC links. Isn’t that nifty?

Over the next months, moving at the speed of volunteers, I plan to release print editions of my other collections. I have some exciting brand-new projects in the works, too, and those will come out in print and electronic editions simultaneously.

Read more about my adventure here.A Few Thoughts on Technology and Transitions
In my personal life, my younger daughter graduated from medical school in May, which occasioned a cross-country trip for the rest of the family to celebrate with her. She’s begun her residency in Family Medicine at a (more or less) local hospital but has warned me that I likely won’t see her for the next 3 years. It’s always amazing and heartening how much inspiration we can draw from the next generation, whether they are our own children or someone else’s. My daughter dragged me, kicking and screaming, into the world of social media, into getting my first stupidphone, and into video chatting (during her medical school years). Now these technologies are part of my everyday and work life. I think it’s good to keep learning new things, to use our minds and bodies in different ways. One of the challenges of these new computer-based technologies is that they require us to use different methods of thought. The transition, for example, from keyboard-based word processing programs (like WordStar for DOS, the one I first used) to graphics-based (Windows) programs entailed a different logic and hand coordination. And both of them are a far cry from the old typewriter.

My first stories (actually, my first umpteen attempts at novels) were written by hand in composition books or on scratch paper. I remember reading an interview with the British mystery writer Dick Francis, in which he described writing in ink in composition books (and that it had never occurred to him that a story, once written, could be revised!) so the method is definitely a time-honored one. Once I learned to type (in high school, on those really heavy manual typewriters) that became my preferred method, although when my children were small, I always carried a spiral-bound notebook on which to work on the Story of the Day in odd moments. Retyping a revision was always a major chore, since I had to do it myself. I became expert in the application of white correction fluid. At least carbon copies were no longer necessary, but I had to take my finished manuscript to a copy shop because in those days no one owned a home copier.

I am of several minds about whether the ease of making changes as I go, being able to print out a manuscript at any stage, and so forth, have really changed how I write. I love the saying that the most important word processor is your brain. Perhaps I splat over the page, as it were, more spontaneously when I use a computer just because it’s so easy to tidy up my prose later, and that can be a good thing as I follow whatever wacky idea pops into my mind. Some of them are truly best expunged but others are quite juicy. In some ways I am more focused now than in 30 or 40 years ago; I know much more about how to put a story together, even if it isn’t one I’ve outlined.

Having multiple writing media available to me is a great thing. I often go back and forth when I’m stuck, especially between dictating and typing or typing and longhand. Dictation using voice recognition software is especially great for dialog or speeches (can you see me acting out the parts of the various characters?) Just as we don’t all write in the same way, I don’t write in the same way all the time. Sometimes words flow and then I want the medium that allows me to best keep up with them. But other times I’m stuck (or sulky, or distracted, or tired) and switching can help get things rolling again.

In the end, though, the only version that matters is the one in the hands of the reader.Editorial NewsThis year I edited three anthologies. Sadly I now turn the page on this chapter of my writing life. The publisher, The Marion Zimmer Literary Works Trust, has decided to lay down bringing out original anthologies. They made the announcement in the September issue of their own newsletter. Both the print and eBook versions of the Darkover anthologies published before 2000 and volumes 22-27 of Sword and Sorceress will be going out of print at the end of 2018, but the more recent ones will remain available.

Lace and Blade comes to a conclusion with volume 5, to be released next Valentine’s Day. It’s a delicious potpourri of elegant, romantic, swashbuckling fantasy from around the worlds, real and imaginary. At the same time, I forwarded royalty payments for the first two volumes to contributors; sadly, three of them, people dear to me, have passed away, so I had to track down their heirs. The amounts involved were very small, but the sense of community and gratitude was immense.
In nostalgia and farewell, I turned in Citadels of Darkover, which will be released May 2019. I took up the reins of editing this series in 2013 with Stars of Darkover, and over the years have had the privilege of working with many of my favorite authors, all of us cherishing this magical world. In the Introduction, I wrote:

While I am sad to lay down this amazing adventure from “the other side of the editorial desk,” I am also grateful to the immensely talented, generous authors who have entrusted me with their work and listened to my editorial comments with such insight and patience. Over the years, many have become friends as well as professional colleagues. But most of all, I extend my sincere thanks to you, the readers, you who have loved Darkover over the decades. I hope the stories I’ve put together here have given you the exhilaration of visiting the planet of the Bloody Sun once more, and I hope that you will continue to enjoy that experience through the novels I have written for DAW Books under the supervision of the Trust (even if their release dates are a bit further apart).

This year I got to co-edit Sword and Sorceress, along with Elisabeth Waters. This was a special joy because my very first professional sale was to the first volume of that series. The Table of Contents is here, and it’ll be available in November 2018. Elisabeth edited my story, “The Fallen Man,” which features a woman painter who discovers magic in her art. The inspiration was the Renaissance fresco painter, Onorate Rodiana. Her wealthy patron, Marquis Gabrino Fondolo, engaged her services to decorate his palace. When a courtier attempted to rape her, she stabbed him (with a palette knife?) and fled, disguised as a man. This led to a new career, that of bandit and eventual leader of a band of condottieri mercenaries, with occasional painting commissions. She died in 1472 while defending her home town, Castelleone. Snippet from TheLaran Gambit (the final text may be different)
Gradually they ascended the slopes leading to Scaravel Pass. Beyond it, Martina assured Bryn, the going would be easier. The pass itself was over seven thousand meters high, and the approach often led along sheer cliffs through slanting sleet. The trail grew steeper, more like something goats would follow than any proper path. Bryn clung to her saddle, trying to sit as still as possible so as not to unbalance or distract her mount. Often they had to dismount and lead their animals, half-scrambling, half-climbing. Martina, as the leader, ensured that whenever possible, the two older people were able to ride on the sure-footed chervines. Bryn’s heart pounded and her breath came in quick gasps from the thinner air, but her body seemed to remember the strenuous trek from their crash in the mountains, and she felt her muscles grow stronger day by day. She noticed how none of the Darkovans complained, taking the hardships of the terrain for granted. I’m becoming like them, she reflected, and the thought renewed her determination.

At night, Bryn snuggled deeper into the cocoon of her blankets. She’d gotten used to sleeping on the hard ground, and the altitude had left her tired enough so she had no difficulty falling asleep. She stirred as her tent mate, Doranne, slipped inside and settled herself. Just as she was dozing off again, she heard a faint, eerie wailing. She jerked fully awake, her muscles instantly tense. Her heartbeat sounded unnaturally loud and fast. The faint rustle of cloth told her that Doranne was awake and reaching for her long knife.

“It’s a banshee, isn’t it?” Bryn whispered.

“Aye, but far off.”

The cry came again, rising and falling. Bryn could not tell if it came from farther than before, or if the mountainous terrain and her own fears only made it seem so. If it came upon them in the night —

No, don’t think that!
Doranne got to her feet, knife drawn, and left the tent. A few moments later, Bryn heard voices in the camp, too low and soft to make out the words. She made out Desiderio’s voice among the higher pitches of the women, but nothing that sounded like her father or Felicity. Fervently she hoped they would sleep through the incident.

Drawing her blankets more snugly around her shoulders, Bryn put her head down and waited. Minutes passed, one growing from the last. Strain as she might, she heard no more banshee cries, yet sleep would not come. Doranne had not yet come back; Bryn told herself that was a good thing. Doranne and the other fighters would be on guard, keeping everyone else safe.

Safe? Is anywhere truly safe? Not Terra, not Alpha, not Cottman IV.

Bryn touched the silken pouch nestled between her breasts. Her fingertips outlined the hard crystalline contours of the insulated starstone. Her starstone. She remembered handling it for the first time, the moment when it had made contact with her bare palm, the way its blue radiance had flared like a living thing, reflection and complement to her mind. How she had focused through it to monitor the bodies of the circle workers. It had made her more than she once was, and through it she had entered a larger, more vibrant world.

The starstone rested now in her lightly closed fist, lifeline and guide. Light pulsed through her. It filled her, soothed her. She drifted on the patterns of brilliance that were as familiar as the hardness of her bones, the inside of her closed eyelids. Safe, it was safe to sleep now . . .

Gradually she coalesced into herself and became aware of her surroundings. The light had shifted from blue to pale, watery gray. All the warmth had seeped out of it, like the sullen overcast with rain not ready to break. She felt no cold, however, only a strange absence of emotion. As for her body, she could not feel it, not quite, but any moment she expected a surface to materialize under her feet, a chill wind to ruffle her hair. The grayness before her was not uniform but darker in some areas, lighter in others, the patterns suggesting faroff structures, a tower perhaps, or a person.

She was in the Overworld, and all the warnings she’d been given came rushing into her thoughts. But so too did the nature of the place, for here she could encounter the dead she had once loved.

Leonin!

As if summoned by her silent plea, a figure condensed. She knew without having to speak that it was indeed him. Hope beyond hope, she had been given this last chance to see him, to speak with him, to hold him in her arms. She tried to move in his direction but was not yet substantial enough for traction with the insubstantial ground. In desperation, she reached out with her mind to his and, to her astonishment, made a connection. It was fragmented, like a reflection seen in the shards of a broken mirror, but enough for her to catch his mental response. She could not make out any words, not even her name, only a silent cry. At the same time, she became aware of a bone-deep chill creeping across her skin. All the warnings she’d been given of the dangers of the Overworld flashed through her mind.

She dared not linger — but just a moment longer — if she could only make out what he was trying to tell her — this was no place for the living — she might be trapped — one last glimpse of him.

In a last, desperate effort, she stretched out her mind. Blue light flared, filling her. The distant figure grew no closer, no clearer, but she heard, very faint but clear, as if he too were throwing all his might into the call:

Don’t waste my death!