Chelsea Gaither's Blog, page 12
April 3, 2014
Starbleached: Fortitude---BOOK SAMPLE!
Alright, my lovely book-readers, here's a long awaited sample of the next Starbleached book! (Long awaited, mostly because your humble writer-friend is a lazy ass. Sorry, my lovelies)
Note: Still in the process of editing this, but I wanted to get off my sorry duff and give ya'll something so you know I am working. ETA is mid april or early may, depending on when I get my computer up and running again.
Enjoy, my dears.
Then: Bryan closed his eyes when the lights came on. They had given him control of the room's lighting system. Just another disturbing kindness humans seemed capable of. Wasn’t it in their best interest to keep something as dangerous as himself disabled? And Human lights were so blinding. Not nearly as bad as starlight, but a burn by a wild fire is just as painful as lava. Past a certain point, one lost one's tolerance for pain. A human room at full brightness was like being trapped in a room full of Brightminds, or worse, being made to kneel at the feet of the Eldking himself. Overseers would have done so. He would have done so. But humans weren’t like that. When they had decided to keep him, they gave him his own room with the environmental controls where he could reach them. They could override those controls if they wanted to, and frequently did, but he could make the room dim as a proper compartment. This room was cool and humid as it ought to be. He was even able to set the bed controls to fit his rather generous frame. What right did they have to be so kind? But humans needed light to ensure he had not made any surprises for them—he would not, but he knew most Overseers would have and he certainly would have worried every time that door opened—and so when the minds beyond the bulkhead stopped, he knew to close his eyes. Without that sensory input, he was abandoned to the demon within. Hunger. Such a simple word. It implied a placid void needing to be filled. A dull ache. A simple need. But for him, it was demanding, rampaging, whirling. Every cell in his body burned. Not even like the pain of dying. You die, you go out like a candle. This is withering. I am drying out on the surface of the universe and there will be no recourse. There can be no salve for this. No recourse. I will not allow it. He knew how to feed shallow, taking only as much as a soul could survive. He also knew that Holton Fleet had developed a drug that could permit him to feed in full without killing his victim. He even knew, in an academic way, that he had helped develop it during his human life. That he had provided for his own destruction in a way that would allow him to remain…useful…to those he once loved. He knew this, but it all paled compared to one simple truth: He could only survive by taking from a sentient life, and he did not wish to. Millions of Overseers have done this. Millions. They have no problem taking lives. Even you did not hesitate at first, when you were young to this life and the fires burned so hot within. And while we are at it, how is it that you can feel this loyalty so well you would let it destroy you, and you cannot truly remember your own name? His human memories came and went like embers off a fire. Here, flaring, dancing, flashing…and then gone. Yesterday, or perhaps the day before, he had remembered his own name, and a significant portion of his human life. Today that was gone, and he was left with a handful of notes, jotted down in a language that an hour ago, he could barely read. Even now, he could not have formed those letters on his own. It was as if his human memory were some elusive animal to be studied and notarized while its presence was still recordable. This is the elusive boyhood memory, gliding through the wilds of the cerebellum without fear. He was fairly sure that, when his memory was nearer to human, he would find that reference funny. The hunger pulsed again, pulling his attention back to the four minds beyond the door. Human minds, not capable of proper speech. They had to verbalize everything, and that made the sense of them more indistinct. More appetizing. Personalities had aroma, color, like the bouquet of fine wine. And he couldn’t help but to inhale. Beyond the door: One mind of green on warm brown, moss on sunwarmed stone. Welcoming velvet on top, unyielding hardness below. One with a similar granite feel, but colored by red and liquid energy; the stone slab splattered with blood. Glittering incandescent gold, champagne, gleaming jewels, beauty—especially tempting. He’d never sensed anything so…happy before. Bryan felt confident how the life-energy of the other two would taste, but he had a perverse desire to experience the glitter of that burbling mind. Letting something so pure sate the hunger…conscience caught up with the impulse, and he felt an utterly useless urge to vomit. He touched the fourth mind. Strangely unappealing, and even more strangely compelling. Gray. Endless skies without rain above the pale lunar surface. A perfect neutral. The door opened. Closed. Boots echoed through his small room. The scents of human skin and human hygiene—deodorant, soaps, an artificial floral scent. He opened his eyes. Bob. Jean Haskill. And two others whose names, he realized with a sinking feeling, he really ought to have known. He closed his eyes once more, then risked the onslaught of the lighting to check their nametags. CDR. J. Henstridge. Gen S. Miller. Yes, Bryan most definitely should have known who they were. Bob was a Hispanic man, above human average but with a build that made him appear stubby, like some squashed shielding emitter. That sense of moss-covered stone fit him well. Haskill was a tall black man, slender build, face implacable and mind broiling with that dark, red rage. Bryan might not understand the green softness over Bob’s steel, or the soft pity in the gray man’s eyes, but he understood Jean quite well. His mind was nearest to an Overseer’s. You did not allow a threat to live. Even without mind-speech, here was something Bryan could finally rely on. He favored his left side, still. Broken ribs from the Mare’s last battle. Easy prey. No. Bryan tightened his hands on his knees, feeling those inner teeth dig into the fabric. Better than feeling them taste flesh. Oh, how he longed to—NO. Henstridge was the glittering mind. A pretty black woman, hazel eyes, strong facial features, a dusting of makeup—not unusual for humans to wear, but most Holton personnel went without—and nails that flashed with a dusting of glitter. It’s breaking uniform, but she doesn’t care. She keeps a bottle of acetone under her station, another in her pocket. She can take glitter polish off in thirty seconds if she has to. I've seen her do it many times. But even that little flash would be gone in a handful of seconds. Miller looked down at him, smiling. Tall white man, mostly unremarkable. Human average features, human average build. He was nearly Bryan’s height, on the high side of six feet. Blue eyes gave every expression a piercing quality, as if he were a hawk watching prey. And that gray neutrality. Patient. Waiting. Planning. Shawn hooked the too small chair from the too small desk and sat on it. Comfy and casual. Maybe a human would be fooled, if they couldn’t taste that cool assessment going on beneath the skin. Bryan wondered what would happen when that calm ended. After a long silence, Shawn said, “Must be like meeting a buffet you can’t eat.” Bryan didn’t answer for a moment. If it was anyone else, that would be teasing, an insult. Something that he could answer with all the coiled energy demanding release. Even verbal sparring would be something he could hold onto. But Miller—Shawn, that was what the S stood for—genuinely wanted to know. “People are not food,” Bryan said. “But that’s not true for you, now, is it?” Silence. It seemed the safest option. “I don’t leave my people behind, Landry. Not even when they’re stuck in your situation. Nobody deserves this, and nobody deserves to starve to death.” “At the moment I am fine.” Shawn smirked, then leaned forward with a conspiratorial air. “Tell you what. You shake my hand without digging in, and I’ll give you a pass.” Bryan closed his eyes, blocking out the light and Shawn’s outstretched hand. Bryan could mostly control his bite—the injection of the nematocyst teeth—but not that first reaction. The tightening of muscle, the faint prickling across the skin, that first involuntary taste. Not even a sip, just a wetting of lips and tongue. It only happened when he was particularly hungry, and it sharpened the sense of human mind. He wasn’t sure he could resist that taste, should it come to skin-on-skin. “I pose no danger to the crew.” Not in here, he wanted to add. Shawn gave him a long, hard look. A human would have to be blind to read him as a harmless old man, he thought. He was also fairly confident that many humans had. It was something that had amused the crew back when Holton Fleet was—the memory was already gone. Goddamn it. Then the general brought out one of their datapads, tapped a few squares, and offered it to him. “We’ve got a meeting at oh-nine-thirty. All non-essential crew members are to attend. This includes you. You are,” he said, over Bryan’s protest, “still a part of my crew. And you’re going to attend this meeting. And then you are going to engineering to try to keep this hulk of bolts floating. We got a problem with the battery sub-banks feeding the drives. You’ll get into it with Engineering a bit later. We need you, Landry.” “You would put your crew in that much risk to have them work with me.” Bryan said. “We all have to compromise, eventually. Unless a better solution comes up.” He stood, and Bryan felt the old urge to scrap. To exert his dominance. To feed. Instead, he tipped his throat slightly back. If Shawn wanted his life, it was his. Miller was strong, and a good leader, and Bryan did not want his job. Surrendering dominance to something he could so easily kill was unnatural, but it was the right decision to make. And it felt like washing the body or turning a key. Something he’d done a thousand times before. Shawn smiled, slightly, but did nothing else to acknowledge the gesture. It was not, after all, something that humans did. Instead, the general nodded to Bob and Jean, then left the room. Oh-nine-thirty was in an hour and a half. Bryan would have just enough time to attempt to use the humans cleansing facility and redress. His guardians—captors, if one wanted to be dead honest—stepped out of the room. Bryan stood and removed his overcoat. He had misjudged the door's closing speed. He met Bob Harris's eyes. Shock lay there, and pity. His own shame rose to meet it, and fear. You did not allow threats to live...and you did not expose a weakness. Door closed. Humans gone. He closed his eyes and leaned against the cool metal of the bulkhead. Hunger burned down to the bone.
Note: Still in the process of editing this, but I wanted to get off my sorry duff and give ya'll something so you know I am working. ETA is mid april or early may, depending on when I get my computer up and running again.
Enjoy, my dears.
Then: Bryan closed his eyes when the lights came on. They had given him control of the room's lighting system. Just another disturbing kindness humans seemed capable of. Wasn’t it in their best interest to keep something as dangerous as himself disabled? And Human lights were so blinding. Not nearly as bad as starlight, but a burn by a wild fire is just as painful as lava. Past a certain point, one lost one's tolerance for pain. A human room at full brightness was like being trapped in a room full of Brightminds, or worse, being made to kneel at the feet of the Eldking himself. Overseers would have done so. He would have done so. But humans weren’t like that. When they had decided to keep him, they gave him his own room with the environmental controls where he could reach them. They could override those controls if they wanted to, and frequently did, but he could make the room dim as a proper compartment. This room was cool and humid as it ought to be. He was even able to set the bed controls to fit his rather generous frame. What right did they have to be so kind? But humans needed light to ensure he had not made any surprises for them—he would not, but he knew most Overseers would have and he certainly would have worried every time that door opened—and so when the minds beyond the bulkhead stopped, he knew to close his eyes. Without that sensory input, he was abandoned to the demon within. Hunger. Such a simple word. It implied a placid void needing to be filled. A dull ache. A simple need. But for him, it was demanding, rampaging, whirling. Every cell in his body burned. Not even like the pain of dying. You die, you go out like a candle. This is withering. I am drying out on the surface of the universe and there will be no recourse. There can be no salve for this. No recourse. I will not allow it. He knew how to feed shallow, taking only as much as a soul could survive. He also knew that Holton Fleet had developed a drug that could permit him to feed in full without killing his victim. He even knew, in an academic way, that he had helped develop it during his human life. That he had provided for his own destruction in a way that would allow him to remain…useful…to those he once loved. He knew this, but it all paled compared to one simple truth: He could only survive by taking from a sentient life, and he did not wish to. Millions of Overseers have done this. Millions. They have no problem taking lives. Even you did not hesitate at first, when you were young to this life and the fires burned so hot within. And while we are at it, how is it that you can feel this loyalty so well you would let it destroy you, and you cannot truly remember your own name? His human memories came and went like embers off a fire. Here, flaring, dancing, flashing…and then gone. Yesterday, or perhaps the day before, he had remembered his own name, and a significant portion of his human life. Today that was gone, and he was left with a handful of notes, jotted down in a language that an hour ago, he could barely read. Even now, he could not have formed those letters on his own. It was as if his human memory were some elusive animal to be studied and notarized while its presence was still recordable. This is the elusive boyhood memory, gliding through the wilds of the cerebellum without fear. He was fairly sure that, when his memory was nearer to human, he would find that reference funny. The hunger pulsed again, pulling his attention back to the four minds beyond the door. Human minds, not capable of proper speech. They had to verbalize everything, and that made the sense of them more indistinct. More appetizing. Personalities had aroma, color, like the bouquet of fine wine. And he couldn’t help but to inhale. Beyond the door: One mind of green on warm brown, moss on sunwarmed stone. Welcoming velvet on top, unyielding hardness below. One with a similar granite feel, but colored by red and liquid energy; the stone slab splattered with blood. Glittering incandescent gold, champagne, gleaming jewels, beauty—especially tempting. He’d never sensed anything so…happy before. Bryan felt confident how the life-energy of the other two would taste, but he had a perverse desire to experience the glitter of that burbling mind. Letting something so pure sate the hunger…conscience caught up with the impulse, and he felt an utterly useless urge to vomit. He touched the fourth mind. Strangely unappealing, and even more strangely compelling. Gray. Endless skies without rain above the pale lunar surface. A perfect neutral. The door opened. Closed. Boots echoed through his small room. The scents of human skin and human hygiene—deodorant, soaps, an artificial floral scent. He opened his eyes. Bob. Jean Haskill. And two others whose names, he realized with a sinking feeling, he really ought to have known. He closed his eyes once more, then risked the onslaught of the lighting to check their nametags. CDR. J. Henstridge. Gen S. Miller. Yes, Bryan most definitely should have known who they were. Bob was a Hispanic man, above human average but with a build that made him appear stubby, like some squashed shielding emitter. That sense of moss-covered stone fit him well. Haskill was a tall black man, slender build, face implacable and mind broiling with that dark, red rage. Bryan might not understand the green softness over Bob’s steel, or the soft pity in the gray man’s eyes, but he understood Jean quite well. His mind was nearest to an Overseer’s. You did not allow a threat to live. Even without mind-speech, here was something Bryan could finally rely on. He favored his left side, still. Broken ribs from the Mare’s last battle. Easy prey. No. Bryan tightened his hands on his knees, feeling those inner teeth dig into the fabric. Better than feeling them taste flesh. Oh, how he longed to—NO. Henstridge was the glittering mind. A pretty black woman, hazel eyes, strong facial features, a dusting of makeup—not unusual for humans to wear, but most Holton personnel went without—and nails that flashed with a dusting of glitter. It’s breaking uniform, but she doesn’t care. She keeps a bottle of acetone under her station, another in her pocket. She can take glitter polish off in thirty seconds if she has to. I've seen her do it many times. But even that little flash would be gone in a handful of seconds. Miller looked down at him, smiling. Tall white man, mostly unremarkable. Human average features, human average build. He was nearly Bryan’s height, on the high side of six feet. Blue eyes gave every expression a piercing quality, as if he were a hawk watching prey. And that gray neutrality. Patient. Waiting. Planning. Shawn hooked the too small chair from the too small desk and sat on it. Comfy and casual. Maybe a human would be fooled, if they couldn’t taste that cool assessment going on beneath the skin. Bryan wondered what would happen when that calm ended. After a long silence, Shawn said, “Must be like meeting a buffet you can’t eat.” Bryan didn’t answer for a moment. If it was anyone else, that would be teasing, an insult. Something that he could answer with all the coiled energy demanding release. Even verbal sparring would be something he could hold onto. But Miller—Shawn, that was what the S stood for—genuinely wanted to know. “People are not food,” Bryan said. “But that’s not true for you, now, is it?” Silence. It seemed the safest option. “I don’t leave my people behind, Landry. Not even when they’re stuck in your situation. Nobody deserves this, and nobody deserves to starve to death.” “At the moment I am fine.” Shawn smirked, then leaned forward with a conspiratorial air. “Tell you what. You shake my hand without digging in, and I’ll give you a pass.” Bryan closed his eyes, blocking out the light and Shawn’s outstretched hand. Bryan could mostly control his bite—the injection of the nematocyst teeth—but not that first reaction. The tightening of muscle, the faint prickling across the skin, that first involuntary taste. Not even a sip, just a wetting of lips and tongue. It only happened when he was particularly hungry, and it sharpened the sense of human mind. He wasn’t sure he could resist that taste, should it come to skin-on-skin. “I pose no danger to the crew.” Not in here, he wanted to add. Shawn gave him a long, hard look. A human would have to be blind to read him as a harmless old man, he thought. He was also fairly confident that many humans had. It was something that had amused the crew back when Holton Fleet was—the memory was already gone. Goddamn it. Then the general brought out one of their datapads, tapped a few squares, and offered it to him. “We’ve got a meeting at oh-nine-thirty. All non-essential crew members are to attend. This includes you. You are,” he said, over Bryan’s protest, “still a part of my crew. And you’re going to attend this meeting. And then you are going to engineering to try to keep this hulk of bolts floating. We got a problem with the battery sub-banks feeding the drives. You’ll get into it with Engineering a bit later. We need you, Landry.” “You would put your crew in that much risk to have them work with me.” Bryan said. “We all have to compromise, eventually. Unless a better solution comes up.” He stood, and Bryan felt the old urge to scrap. To exert his dominance. To feed. Instead, he tipped his throat slightly back. If Shawn wanted his life, it was his. Miller was strong, and a good leader, and Bryan did not want his job. Surrendering dominance to something he could so easily kill was unnatural, but it was the right decision to make. And it felt like washing the body or turning a key. Something he’d done a thousand times before. Shawn smiled, slightly, but did nothing else to acknowledge the gesture. It was not, after all, something that humans did. Instead, the general nodded to Bob and Jean, then left the room. Oh-nine-thirty was in an hour and a half. Bryan would have just enough time to attempt to use the humans cleansing facility and redress. His guardians—captors, if one wanted to be dead honest—stepped out of the room. Bryan stood and removed his overcoat. He had misjudged the door's closing speed. He met Bob Harris's eyes. Shock lay there, and pity. His own shame rose to meet it, and fear. You did not allow threats to live...and you did not expose a weakness. Door closed. Humans gone. He closed his eyes and leaned against the cool metal of the bulkhead. Hunger burned down to the bone.
April 2, 2014
Paks--chapter 24
Paks spends the first day of their new siege watching the siege work. She's torn between being glad she's not doing it and being bored out of her mind. A rider shows up and heads for the Duke. She tries to get close enough to listen in, which means she's close enough to be picked to go get the leader of the Halvarics and drag him back to the Duke's tent for news. It turns out the guy remembers her as the soldier who almost didn't give her parole.
Nobody finds out what the courier brought, so it must be important.
Several days later, one of Paks' recruits tells her he spotted someone coming over the city wall. Paks uses this as a Teaching Opportunity, specificially on Why We Do Not Talk About Things. They haven't had a chance to camp in a peaceful city, so Stammel hasn't had his chance to give the "Don't get drunk and blab" speech, or to beat the concept of operational security into the newbie's heads. Paks quickly explains that winning usually means having a surprise or two up your sleeve, and if you blab to the wrong person--and you never know who the wrong person is--you lose your surprise. The new person is alarmed and even a little insulted, but he gets the point.
About a day later an entire group of people breech the wall from the other side and go to talk to the Duke. Two of 'em get shot by the defenders, so the rest defect. There's a lot of fighting going on within the city, even though the Duke's people haven't make it into the city yet. Sounds like the city itself doesn't like the Honeycat anymore.
The inside people pull the Honeycat's colors down and fly the colors of an unknown party, but it's gonna be either the Duke or the Halvarics, and either way that means Paks and company have friends on the inside. Eventually her troops make it inside, but by then most of the fighting (for the Duke's people) has ended anyway.
After assisting a boy with a lost puppy--no, really. Kid lost his puppy--Paks gets to catalogue the warehouse. Fun. One of her recruits got to raid a jeweler and allows Paks and the other newbies under her to pick a decent helping of sparklies from his haul. Nice of him. The same recruit also wants Paks to pull strings to get him back to fighting. Seems he broke his arm and he wants the surgeons to put him back into play. Paks won't go for it, and Stammel shows up to back him up, then pulls her aside. Apparently they took on new people, and Stammel wants Paks to watch them. And he means watch, not just shepard. They could be good men, but they also could be plants.
That means Stammel really trusts Paks. Not just her fighting strength but her head. You don't give the potential spy to somebody who's got fewer brains than a turnip.
And of course Paks newest charge is a sexist idiot. His first serious question to Paks is "Are you sure you aren't a cook?" to which Paks says "yes" and nothing more. Probably because we don't want to kill him until this plot plays out. Idiot.
I do like, however, how very, very little sexism there was up until we started hitting the southern areas. Yes, there was the Korryn incident, which was really shitty, but everybody came down on him like a load of bricks. Up until this point, women have been treated like fighters. So much so that it hasn't called attention to itself. Paks is here to fight, and that's all. It's only now that she's got something she has to prove, and it shows very well how absolutely unfair that attitude is. Paks is a veteran. She's survived multiple tours on the front line of battle. She made the run from Dwarfwatch to Rotengre and told the Duke what happened. She's the goddamn reason the Duke is down there in the first place... and this little piss-ant is daring to insinuate that Paks is less of a soldier because of her gender.
He also mouthed off in front of Stammal, and it's probably another display of his high opinion of her that he didn't pop the idiot the second he did so. He figures Paks can sort out her own problem. And I think popping stupid would less be a "Protect the woman" gesture and more of a "you do NOT disrespect my friend"...thing.
She takes New Stupid to see Siger, who takes one look, asks a couple questions, and decides that Paks is just the one to put him through his paces. This is probably going to be fun.
It is.
Siger has Paks form a shield line with him, and lets all the newbies line up opposite them. The newbies are all like "it's not fair, it's just one old man and a girl." And the newbies hold their own for a while, until New and Stupid almost gets a touch on Paks and grins at her. Then she cleans his clock for him and gets the "You're not bad...for a girl" speech in return. New Stupid isn't going to improve.
And that my darlings is how you do a girls-can-play-with-boys sort of scene. No dick measuring, no bravado. The girl's got nothing to prove, and she just does her job and does it well and does not give one flying fuck about your opinion. Ah, Paks, how much I do love thee...
It turns out that the Honeycat likes to keep women fighters as a hobby--show them off at feasts, and then do the predictable with them--and that's part of why New and Stupid is so disrespectful of Paks.
Paks spends the last few chapters thoroughly quashing his ideas about the proper role for women, including the fact that she doesn't want to marry...ever, and never has. She adds in that a quarter of Duke Phelani's company are women, which I think is the first time a concrete number has come up.
Idiot accepts this, and the chapter ends.
Nobody finds out what the courier brought, so it must be important.
Several days later, one of Paks' recruits tells her he spotted someone coming over the city wall. Paks uses this as a Teaching Opportunity, specificially on Why We Do Not Talk About Things. They haven't had a chance to camp in a peaceful city, so Stammel hasn't had his chance to give the "Don't get drunk and blab" speech, or to beat the concept of operational security into the newbie's heads. Paks quickly explains that winning usually means having a surprise or two up your sleeve, and if you blab to the wrong person--and you never know who the wrong person is--you lose your surprise. The new person is alarmed and even a little insulted, but he gets the point.
About a day later an entire group of people breech the wall from the other side and go to talk to the Duke. Two of 'em get shot by the defenders, so the rest defect. There's a lot of fighting going on within the city, even though the Duke's people haven't make it into the city yet. Sounds like the city itself doesn't like the Honeycat anymore.
The inside people pull the Honeycat's colors down and fly the colors of an unknown party, but it's gonna be either the Duke or the Halvarics, and either way that means Paks and company have friends on the inside. Eventually her troops make it inside, but by then most of the fighting (for the Duke's people) has ended anyway.
After assisting a boy with a lost puppy--no, really. Kid lost his puppy--Paks gets to catalogue the warehouse. Fun. One of her recruits got to raid a jeweler and allows Paks and the other newbies under her to pick a decent helping of sparklies from his haul. Nice of him. The same recruit also wants Paks to pull strings to get him back to fighting. Seems he broke his arm and he wants the surgeons to put him back into play. Paks won't go for it, and Stammel shows up to back him up, then pulls her aside. Apparently they took on new people, and Stammel wants Paks to watch them. And he means watch, not just shepard. They could be good men, but they also could be plants.
That means Stammel really trusts Paks. Not just her fighting strength but her head. You don't give the potential spy to somebody who's got fewer brains than a turnip.
And of course Paks newest charge is a sexist idiot. His first serious question to Paks is "Are you sure you aren't a cook?" to which Paks says "yes" and nothing more. Probably because we don't want to kill him until this plot plays out. Idiot.
I do like, however, how very, very little sexism there was up until we started hitting the southern areas. Yes, there was the Korryn incident, which was really shitty, but everybody came down on him like a load of bricks. Up until this point, women have been treated like fighters. So much so that it hasn't called attention to itself. Paks is here to fight, and that's all. It's only now that she's got something she has to prove, and it shows very well how absolutely unfair that attitude is. Paks is a veteran. She's survived multiple tours on the front line of battle. She made the run from Dwarfwatch to Rotengre and told the Duke what happened. She's the goddamn reason the Duke is down there in the first place... and this little piss-ant is daring to insinuate that Paks is less of a soldier because of her gender.
He also mouthed off in front of Stammal, and it's probably another display of his high opinion of her that he didn't pop the idiot the second he did so. He figures Paks can sort out her own problem. And I think popping stupid would less be a "Protect the woman" gesture and more of a "you do NOT disrespect my friend"...thing.
She takes New Stupid to see Siger, who takes one look, asks a couple questions, and decides that Paks is just the one to put him through his paces. This is probably going to be fun.
It is.
Siger has Paks form a shield line with him, and lets all the newbies line up opposite them. The newbies are all like "it's not fair, it's just one old man and a girl." And the newbies hold their own for a while, until New and Stupid almost gets a touch on Paks and grins at her. Then she cleans his clock for him and gets the "You're not bad...for a girl" speech in return. New Stupid isn't going to improve.
And that my darlings is how you do a girls-can-play-with-boys sort of scene. No dick measuring, no bravado. The girl's got nothing to prove, and she just does her job and does it well and does not give one flying fuck about your opinion. Ah, Paks, how much I do love thee...
It turns out that the Honeycat likes to keep women fighters as a hobby--show them off at feasts, and then do the predictable with them--and that's part of why New and Stupid is so disrespectful of Paks.
Paks spends the last few chapters thoroughly quashing his ideas about the proper role for women, including the fact that she doesn't want to marry...ever, and never has. She adds in that a quarter of Duke Phelani's company are women, which I think is the first time a concrete number has come up.
Idiot accepts this, and the chapter ends.
March 31, 2014
Paksenarrion--chapter 23
The Duke marches the company up to yet another castle. Paks observes everything and Elizabeth Moon showcases amazing self restraint by not describing the arrow slits above the gate "murder holes". The owner of this castle is old enough to get to call the Duke "Young Phelan" without getting his clock cleaned for it; the Duke is very respectful of this person. The only time he tells the guy off is when he first asks if the women need separate housing, and then implies that maybe having that many women in combat is immoral. The Duke very quickly states that his women are his soldiers, same as the men. Paks' cohort is lead to their barracks. Everybody gets to enjoy watching the count's rather sexist staff stumble over the fact that there's lots of women in the Company.
(Speaking of which, an interesting etamology re: Woman. "Man" means human. Not the gender, necessarily. It's the "wo" that gets tacked onto it that designates a different gender. Basically sticking that "wo" in there means "Something other than human". So yeah, the word "Woman" is intensely sexist.)
Anyhoo, Paks also brings up that Count Sexist also isn't calling the Duke by his title. One of the other soldiers explains that the guy isn't disputing the Duke's title, mostly because the Duke hasn't asked him to acknowledge it. Somehow this is respect on the Duke's part, and it makes me wonder what this Count guy has accomplished that everybody around him is being very, very tolerant of the fact that he's an utter fecking moron.
The next day they march out and work on defending this place from the Honeycat. The Duke most notably does not allow any looting of the random villages they wander into. This continues from town to town until they get word that a large chunk of the Honeycat's army has surrendered to the Golden Company, and told them that the Honeycat is most likely in his own cities. It's time to go squish them.
They get so enthusiastic that several people fall into a fairly basic trap--stake pit hidden behind a barricade--before Stammal can warn them off. Most of them are newbies, though a couple of the injured are vets. The enemy gets away while Paks and her fellows deal with the stake pit. The chapter ends with Paks eyeing the first city this chapter that doesn't belong to Count Sexist Aristocrat. I do not think this city will be standing too much longer.
(Speaking of which, an interesting etamology re: Woman. "Man" means human. Not the gender, necessarily. It's the "wo" that gets tacked onto it that designates a different gender. Basically sticking that "wo" in there means "Something other than human". So yeah, the word "Woman" is intensely sexist.)
Anyhoo, Paks also brings up that Count Sexist also isn't calling the Duke by his title. One of the other soldiers explains that the guy isn't disputing the Duke's title, mostly because the Duke hasn't asked him to acknowledge it. Somehow this is respect on the Duke's part, and it makes me wonder what this Count guy has accomplished that everybody around him is being very, very tolerant of the fact that he's an utter fecking moron.
The next day they march out and work on defending this place from the Honeycat. The Duke most notably does not allow any looting of the random villages they wander into. This continues from town to town until they get word that a large chunk of the Honeycat's army has surrendered to the Golden Company, and told them that the Honeycat is most likely in his own cities. It's time to go squish them.
They get so enthusiastic that several people fall into a fairly basic trap--stake pit hidden behind a barricade--before Stammal can warn them off. Most of them are newbies, though a couple of the injured are vets. The enemy gets away while Paks and her fellows deal with the stake pit. The chapter ends with Paks eyeing the first city this chapter that doesn't belong to Count Sexist Aristocrat. I do not think this city will be standing too much longer.
March 27, 2014
Paks--chapter 22
So Paks starts training her recruits. The trainer she had came with the newbies, mostly because the Duke didn't leave ANY of them behind and the dude had "nothing to do". He tells her which of her newbies need the most work, and where, and she gets right down to it. Three of 'em listen when she tells 'em they need more work. One of them says that Siger, the trainer, told him he was coming along well.
Paks smiles. And then she beats the confidence out of him and explains exactly what he did wrong.
Then Siger comes over, they pair off, and he beats the confidence out of Paks. Who is absolutely delighted because it's brand new sword work for her to learn. He disarms her, she manages a trick she picked up in battle, and gets a touch on him with her dagger. Everybody applauds, and the newbies look absolutely terrified, as newbies should. She promises that they'll get better.
She keeps tripping over the new Saben, though. She tells the newbies a little about her Saben, and they nod and remain absolutely clueless.
After some reshuffling of the cohorts, the Duke moves them out. Time to hunt the Honeycat. They meet up with the G0olden Company on the road, a mercenary troop run by a woman. Paks considers what this would be like, running her own Company. Eventually, they split back up and head to their next rest point. More worldbuilding ensues until we get to an inn, where Paks and her buddies rest, eat, and drink. In about that order. Two of them stay longer than the others and come back drunk. Paks uses this to explain to her newbies why drinking when marching is a very bad idea.
After another couple days, they're ordered to draw swords and be ready to both march quickly and be ready to fight. The Halvarics have already clashed with the Honeycat's forces, so technically Paks's fight is easier than theirs was. The other side is already bloodied and tired, and Paks's side is fresh as a daisy, relatively. It still takes approximately three seconds for one of her newbies to go down with a broken arm, which she promptly steps on because Battle. One of the other two gets hurt too, so they're both off to the surgeon's tent. When the fighting stops, one of the other cohorts is ordered to persue the enemy, and she gets to go check on her newbies and eat. She gives them the down and dirty--that they did well, but they need more training and "be glad that was your shield arm". And then one of the surgeons goes over to her and chews her out for not getting her own wounds cleaned out the first chance she got.
Next day, they get to take the enemy camp apart. Exciting
They march and find the Halvarics holed up in a tower. They settle in for a siege, but don't have to wait too long. The other guys climb over the wall while Paks is on sentry duty; it takes a while for the rest of the camp to wake up so she's on her own for a decent amount of time. They manage to stay alive, but don't take the tower. Paks then wonders how they'll manage this campaign. The Honeycat isn't with this army, and there's an awful lot of 'em for them to be a set of throw-aways. Vik then tells her a story involving a man and a barrel of ale, and the chapter ends with him telling her the point: When you bite off more than you can chew, take a minute to cut it down to size.
Paks smiles. And then she beats the confidence out of him and explains exactly what he did wrong.
Then Siger comes over, they pair off, and he beats the confidence out of Paks. Who is absolutely delighted because it's brand new sword work for her to learn. He disarms her, she manages a trick she picked up in battle, and gets a touch on him with her dagger. Everybody applauds, and the newbies look absolutely terrified, as newbies should. She promises that they'll get better.
She keeps tripping over the new Saben, though. She tells the newbies a little about her Saben, and they nod and remain absolutely clueless.
After some reshuffling of the cohorts, the Duke moves them out. Time to hunt the Honeycat. They meet up with the G0olden Company on the road, a mercenary troop run by a woman. Paks considers what this would be like, running her own Company. Eventually, they split back up and head to their next rest point. More worldbuilding ensues until we get to an inn, where Paks and her buddies rest, eat, and drink. In about that order. Two of them stay longer than the others and come back drunk. Paks uses this to explain to her newbies why drinking when marching is a very bad idea.
After another couple days, they're ordered to draw swords and be ready to both march quickly and be ready to fight. The Halvarics have already clashed with the Honeycat's forces, so technically Paks's fight is easier than theirs was. The other side is already bloodied and tired, and Paks's side is fresh as a daisy, relatively. It still takes approximately three seconds for one of her newbies to go down with a broken arm, which she promptly steps on because Battle. One of the other two gets hurt too, so they're both off to the surgeon's tent. When the fighting stops, one of the other cohorts is ordered to persue the enemy, and she gets to go check on her newbies and eat. She gives them the down and dirty--that they did well, but they need more training and "be glad that was your shield arm". And then one of the surgeons goes over to her and chews her out for not getting her own wounds cleaned out the first chance she got.
Next day, they get to take the enemy camp apart. Exciting
They march and find the Halvarics holed up in a tower. They settle in for a siege, but don't have to wait too long. The other guys climb over the wall while Paks is on sentry duty; it takes a while for the rest of the camp to wake up so she's on her own for a decent amount of time. They manage to stay alive, but don't take the tower. Paks then wonders how they'll manage this campaign. The Honeycat isn't with this army, and there's an awful lot of 'em for them to be a set of throw-aways. Vik then tells her a story involving a man and a barrel of ale, and the chapter ends with him telling her the point: When you bite off more than you can chew, take a minute to cut it down to size.
March 26, 2014
Book update and Paksenarrion chapter 21
Well, kids, now my BACKUP computer has fried itself. The good news is this will probably motivate my housemates to help me get one of the two fixed. I had a discussion with the computer savvy friend-of-a-friend and it's probably the power supply in that one too. Which makes very little sense to me because the backup is only a year old...but it's also an all-in-one, which to me seems like it'd be more likely to have overheating issues, given that it's got less space to work with.
The better news: I do still have access to a computer and my working files, and will be able to continue to write and edit at a sane pace. In the same vein, The next Exiles book, which I intend to serialize a'la Dragonbreath, is one third of the way done, which means ya'll's first chunk is complete. The bad news: Due to the nature of the backup-of-the-backup, I don't have access to a full version of Word, which means I can't format the final files, and I have no access whatsoever to any art programs at all.
THAT SAID: I will shoot for a mid april, early may release date for the next chunk of Starbleached. As I said, I can edit just fine. The friend-of-a-friend will be able to replace the power supply in at least one of our busted computers and I am going to try very hard to get one of 'em working by the end of next week.
So there's that. Now. Book
Chapter 21 starts off with a "Fix the busted morale" feast for Paks' company. Now that they're home, they're sleeping in their old barracks, and there aren't enough people to fill half the beds. Company commanders understand that this is an immediate reminder of the shit they went through at Dwarfwatch, so it's time for a party, speeches, and awards. Everybody who survived Dwarfwatch gets a ring, including Paks. That's the award. The speeches are, basically, "Death to Honeycat", which gets the only real response out of the crowd.
We're introduced to a bunch of the other companies over a briefly summarized winter, and then Stammal and the other sergeants bring in the new recruits. The usual showing off by the vets is accomplished in short order, and Paks gets assigned a few newbies to show around. She manages to remember her own first year without dwelling on her dead friends, which is probably a big accomplishment all on its own. Then Stammal drags her off to have a drink and to get her version of Dwarfwatch out of her.
She agrees, but not before Vik introduces her to his newbies. One of them is named Saben.
The vets get a couple days off, so everybody's heading to the village. Paks puts them off because she and Stammel are heading off for that drink.
She gives them a very choppy version of her hike to find the Duke, neatly avoiding any mention of Canna and Saben past a very general "We" and "They". The other vets quickly switch the conversation over to their own accomplishments. The recruits ask to hear her version in full, and she politely declines, then gets a little more pointed when one of her shadows starts pushing. They get it and shut up.
Stammel lets her know that the recruits were trained in an awful hurry and have even less training than she got, because the Duke is in an incredible hurry to start marching. They small talk for a while and then Stammel takes Paks to the inn and gets her quietly drunk before pulling the whole story out of her. Probably the best therapy she could get, given the time this is set in. He also brings up the issue of sex with Saben, and correctly picks up that Paks feels very guilty that she and Saben never slept together. He tells her that it's natural for friends to want to give everything to friends, that it's obvious Paks doesn't want sex, that it's probably the hardest choice people can make, and that she doesn't need to feel guilty for not sleeping with her best friend before he died.
The entire thing is fucking gorgeous.
Then he asks about the medallion, because it's truly unusual for Canna to have left it to Paks. She brings up the incident with Canna's shoulder. That it was infected before, that nothing happened when they prayed over it, but that from that point on it improved to the point that she could draw a bow a few days later. Stammel gets kind of freaked and suggests that Paks finds a marshal or a preist or something to get the whole story out. He then moves on to advice about the newbies, and the chapter ends with them polishing off the ale and heading back to the keep.
The better news: I do still have access to a computer and my working files, and will be able to continue to write and edit at a sane pace. In the same vein, The next Exiles book, which I intend to serialize a'la Dragonbreath, is one third of the way done, which means ya'll's first chunk is complete. The bad news: Due to the nature of the backup-of-the-backup, I don't have access to a full version of Word, which means I can't format the final files, and I have no access whatsoever to any art programs at all.
THAT SAID: I will shoot for a mid april, early may release date for the next chunk of Starbleached. As I said, I can edit just fine. The friend-of-a-friend will be able to replace the power supply in at least one of our busted computers and I am going to try very hard to get one of 'em working by the end of next week.
So there's that. Now. Book
Chapter 21 starts off with a "Fix the busted morale" feast for Paks' company. Now that they're home, they're sleeping in their old barracks, and there aren't enough people to fill half the beds. Company commanders understand that this is an immediate reminder of the shit they went through at Dwarfwatch, so it's time for a party, speeches, and awards. Everybody who survived Dwarfwatch gets a ring, including Paks. That's the award. The speeches are, basically, "Death to Honeycat", which gets the only real response out of the crowd.
We're introduced to a bunch of the other companies over a briefly summarized winter, and then Stammal and the other sergeants bring in the new recruits. The usual showing off by the vets is accomplished in short order, and Paks gets assigned a few newbies to show around. She manages to remember her own first year without dwelling on her dead friends, which is probably a big accomplishment all on its own. Then Stammal drags her off to have a drink and to get her version of Dwarfwatch out of her.
She agrees, but not before Vik introduces her to his newbies. One of them is named Saben.
The vets get a couple days off, so everybody's heading to the village. Paks puts them off because she and Stammel are heading off for that drink.
She gives them a very choppy version of her hike to find the Duke, neatly avoiding any mention of Canna and Saben past a very general "We" and "They". The other vets quickly switch the conversation over to their own accomplishments. The recruits ask to hear her version in full, and she politely declines, then gets a little more pointed when one of her shadows starts pushing. They get it and shut up.
Stammel lets her know that the recruits were trained in an awful hurry and have even less training than she got, because the Duke is in an incredible hurry to start marching. They small talk for a while and then Stammel takes Paks to the inn and gets her quietly drunk before pulling the whole story out of her. Probably the best therapy she could get, given the time this is set in. He also brings up the issue of sex with Saben, and correctly picks up that Paks feels very guilty that she and Saben never slept together. He tells her that it's natural for friends to want to give everything to friends, that it's obvious Paks doesn't want sex, that it's probably the hardest choice people can make, and that she doesn't need to feel guilty for not sleeping with her best friend before he died.
The entire thing is fucking gorgeous.
Then he asks about the medallion, because it's truly unusual for Canna to have left it to Paks. She brings up the incident with Canna's shoulder. That it was infected before, that nothing happened when they prayed over it, but that from that point on it improved to the point that she could draw a bow a few days later. Stammel gets kind of freaked and suggests that Paks finds a marshal or a preist or something to get the whole story out. He then moves on to advice about the newbies, and the chapter ends with them polishing off the ale and heading back to the keep.
March 22, 2014
Paksenarrion--chapter 20
Chapter twenty opens with Paks dealing with her greif. She does alright, but the text makes it clear that this is not easy:
It kind of reminds me of the three words the Greeks used for love--Philios, brotherly, Eros, romantic, and agape, usually translated as unconditional. It's scenes like this that make me think of how often we rob the concept of love by making it just that thing that happens before you have sex. You have sex because you want to have sex. Paks loved Sabin unconditionally. She didn't want to screw him, obviously, but she's lost a few friends by now and it's clear this loss cuts much, much deeper than just the death of a good friend. She's lost the best companion she's had so far, and the only way she can deal is to keep on working.
Eventually, Paks has to decide between not caring about her fellows ever again, or caring about them even more--caring about them enough so that the next time, she'll be able to save them. And she decides to do the latter.
And then they find a tunnel leading from the camp where they found Canna and Saben straight into Rotengre. And I would imagine the people in that city are about to have a very, very, VERY bad day.
Paks is assigned to the wall, the distraction that will let several companies get through that tunnel without any major resistance. She makes it to the top of the wall and, along with several others, gets into the gate tower before it can go into full lockdown. They get the main gate open in short order. Meanwhile the Duke has gotten his people through the tunnel and Paks, once again, finds herself on guard duty well behind the actual fighting.
You'd think all the standing around and watching shit would be boring, but I kind of like it. It's not because Paks is a chick, it's because this is what soldiers do. They stand and watch shit and hope that the shit doesn't start moving, and that if it does, that they can make it stop moving before it escalates to "kill or be killed". And guarding the gatehouse of an unfriendly city is a pretty fucking important job.
And then she does get taken into the city when they take the keep, and one of the vets teaches Paks how to loot.
....she's not real enthusiastic about it. Oh, she grabs enough, but she's not destroying furniture or ransacking overly much. Her attitude is basically "This is cool, this is worth something, this is pretty, and I don't really need too much more than that".
Eventually she gets sick of sack duty and they send her to manage the civilians. A man probably defending his family almost kills Paks in a scene that's presented pretty dispassionately. She's the invading force, she's torn these people's lives apart. We're still on her side, but we're seeing the shitty side to this whole war thing. The family could also have been disguised soldiers--they were all carrying poisoned weapons, and none of them survive long enough to tell. Paks gets a dose of the poison.
They treat her, and make an interesting discovery while searching the bodies.
This is the sign of the Webmistress, and it's enchanted as fuck. They scramble to find a cleric, then get the idea to have Paks shove Canna's Gird medallion on the thing. It doesn't do enough, so Paks has to go off and find a preist. Nobody is happy about having found the fucking thing.
Eventually they've sacked everything they can sack, turn the city over to the coalition of merchants that hired them, pack up and start walking back out again. There's a reminder that a lot of people died, and the chapter ends.
She could not talk about it to anyone. She knew that Vik and Arñe watched her, and almost hated them for it. She heard a Halveric ask Barra if she and Saben had been lovers, and did not know which was worse, the question or Barra's scornful negative...For the first time, she wondered what it would have been like to bed him. It was something he had always wanted, and now there was no chance. But if she had—if it hurt more, to lose a lover— she shook her head , and went doggedly on with work she hardly noticed. Better not. She had never wanted to, and surely it would be worse to lose a lover. It was bad enough now.There is something utterly fucking heartbreaking about that paragraph. It's obvious that Paks really valued her friendship with Saben, equally obvious she had utterly no desire to have sex with him.
It kind of reminds me of the three words the Greeks used for love--Philios, brotherly, Eros, romantic, and agape, usually translated as unconditional. It's scenes like this that make me think of how often we rob the concept of love by making it just that thing that happens before you have sex. You have sex because you want to have sex. Paks loved Sabin unconditionally. She didn't want to screw him, obviously, but she's lost a few friends by now and it's clear this loss cuts much, much deeper than just the death of a good friend. She's lost the best companion she's had so far, and the only way she can deal is to keep on working.
Eventually, Paks has to decide between not caring about her fellows ever again, or caring about them even more--caring about them enough so that the next time, she'll be able to save them. And she decides to do the latter.
She looked at her own hands, broad and strong, skilled— she could still protect, with those hands. She said nothing , and the tears came again, but somewhere inside a tightness eased.
And then they find a tunnel leading from the camp where they found Canna and Saben straight into Rotengre. And I would imagine the people in that city are about to have a very, very, VERY bad day.
Paks is assigned to the wall, the distraction that will let several companies get through that tunnel without any major resistance. She makes it to the top of the wall and, along with several others, gets into the gate tower before it can go into full lockdown. They get the main gate open in short order. Meanwhile the Duke has gotten his people through the tunnel and Paks, once again, finds herself on guard duty well behind the actual fighting.
You'd think all the standing around and watching shit would be boring, but I kind of like it. It's not because Paks is a chick, it's because this is what soldiers do. They stand and watch shit and hope that the shit doesn't start moving, and that if it does, that they can make it stop moving before it escalates to "kill or be killed". And guarding the gatehouse of an unfriendly city is a pretty fucking important job.
And then she does get taken into the city when they take the keep, and one of the vets teaches Paks how to loot.
....she's not real enthusiastic about it. Oh, she grabs enough, but she's not destroying furniture or ransacking overly much. Her attitude is basically "This is cool, this is worth something, this is pretty, and I don't really need too much more than that".
Eventually she gets sick of sack duty and they send her to manage the civilians. A man probably defending his family almost kills Paks in a scene that's presented pretty dispassionately. She's the invading force, she's torn these people's lives apart. We're still on her side, but we're seeing the shitty side to this whole war thing. The family could also have been disguised soldiers--they were all carrying poisoned weapons, and none of them survive long enough to tell. Paks gets a dose of the poison.
They treat her, and make an interesting discovery while searching the bodies.
Under his outer robes he wore a massive silver chain with a curious medallion. As Kir slid it out, the captain swore. Paks peered at it , wondering what was wrong. As big as a man's palm, it looked like a silver spider, legs outstretched on a web.
This is the sign of the Webmistress, and it's enchanted as fuck. They scramble to find a cleric, then get the idea to have Paks shove Canna's Gird medallion on the thing. It doesn't do enough, so Paks has to go off and find a preist. Nobody is happy about having found the fucking thing.
Eventually they've sacked everything they can sack, turn the city over to the coalition of merchants that hired them, pack up and start walking back out again. There's a reminder that a lot of people died, and the chapter ends.
March 18, 2014
Paksenarrion--chapter 19
The Duke marches on the fort where Paks and company surrendered. He's got Paks with him and we go through a very quick run down of tactics before they run the fort. And when they do, let's just say it's a bad day to be wearing the Honeycat's colors.
It turns out that the Halvarics and the duke's men held the fort--barely--so the Honeycat's people basically got jammed into a meatgrinder. The survivors are VERY happy to be liberated. Also: arming your trained captives when your enemies come to hurt you? REALLY good idea. No, seriously. It saved a lot of lives. Again: This is why you treat prisoners with dignity and respect.
There is still no sign of Sabin or Canna. I think from here on out it is assumed that they are dead.
They find the Duke's commanding captain dying of gangrene on a bed. They have a conversation where the captain apologizes profusely for losing and the Duke assures him that he did nothing wrong, and the Duke is very proud of him. The Captain asks what the losses will do to the Duke's company.
To recap: These morons have pissed a bunch of mercenaries off so hard that a mercenary company, which is essentially a corporation that thrives on paid murder, is going to go WITHOUT PAY until the Honeycat and his people are squished. And not just go without pay, but dedicate ALL of its reserve resources to the squishing.
They. Are So. Very. Dead.
Then the Duke hauls up individual soldiers--both genders representing--to distribute awards for valor. Eventually he hauls Paks up to the front.
Paks reflects for a moment that this is NOT how she wanted to win glory--not over her friends' graves--and the Duke moves on. He tells them who they are to regroup under--their commander, and HIS commander, are both dead, and most of their cohort is too--and then dismisses them for the evening.
And then the Halvaric's commander shows up. The dude whose son the Honeycat shot out of the saddle for shits and giggles.
Again: THIS GUY IS SO VERY DEAD.
They sort out VERY quickly that nobody is ANYBODY'S captive and move on to the "let's go hunt down the shithead" arrangements. Also funeral arrangements, because a lot of their people are dead now.
And then we get a rather nice plot bomb during the actual funeral.
They march back to Rotengre. The soldier who gave Paks a rough time on her return trip shows up and is VERY apologetic, and Paks is graceful about accepting his apology. Offers of ale are made, which Paks refuses. Then the Duke calls her up because he might have news about Sabin and Canna. And it probably isn't good.
It isn't.
She gave Paks her Gird medallion, which is odd because usually those get sent back to the granges, the Girdish form of churches. The Duke also recovered the little horse she'd given Saben. He packs the rest of Sabin's things up to send to his family. He gives her a drink and sends her out of the tent to steady herself. She finds the other survivors of the cohort and collapses.
End of chapter.
She thought of Canna and Saben, and felt a wash of anger erase the last nervousness. I'm going to kill you, she thought as her rank reached the pikes. She ducked under a pike to slash at the enemy. One in the second rank chopped at her; she dodged without thinking and darted between the front pikes while he was still off balance. Her sword almost took his head off. She felt without looking that her companions followed her example, felt the first quiver of yielding as the pikemen realized that these swordsmen were not held off by the bitter tips of their weapons... She fought on; it didn't matter, she was going to kill these scum until she died.And this, friends and readers, is why you do not treat your prisoners like shit and you fight fair. Because it might feel good to roll the other bad people over, but eventually you're gonna piss off a good person past what they can handle and when that happens, my dears, they will END you. And I'm now STRONGLY nostalgic for the Honor Harrington series because FUCK did you not piss off Honor. (She only got that pissed three times. Two times, she killed the sons of bitches responsible via legal combat, and they absolutely deserved it. The third time she had to be physically restrained because killing wasn't justified. Even though the sons-of-bitches abso-fucking-lutely deserved to be killed horribly and nobody would have minded seeing 'em die. If you want to live long in the Honorverse, don't hurt Honor's people. Just don't.) (Which is why I am WAITING for the next honor book. Somebody killed (GIGANTICALLY CENSORED TRAUMA INDUCING SPOILER) and if they do not get turned into VERY small pieces within very short order I will be VERY put out with the universe.) (Oh, and speaking of which, my dears, the first Honor Harrington book is free. You are welcome and I will be here when you need to cry.) (Which you will) (Frequently)
It turns out that the Halvarics and the duke's men held the fort--barely--so the Honeycat's people basically got jammed into a meatgrinder. The survivors are VERY happy to be liberated. Also: arming your trained captives when your enemies come to hurt you? REALLY good idea. No, seriously. It saved a lot of lives. Again: This is why you treat prisoners with dignity and respect.
There is still no sign of Sabin or Canna. I think from here on out it is assumed that they are dead.
They find the Duke's commanding captain dying of gangrene on a bed. They have a conversation where the captain apologizes profusely for losing and the Duke assures him that he did nothing wrong, and the Duke is very proud of him. The Captain asks what the losses will do to the Duke's company.
"Do?" The Duke stared at the wall a moment, then smiled at Ferrault. "Ferrault, when I'm done with him, neither Siniava nor his friends nor his followers will have a hut to live in or a stone to mark where they died. I'm going to destroy him, Ferrault, for what he did to you and the Company. We've already destroyed the army he brought north this year, and that's only the beginning."Paks, who has been walking around this entire time with a bone bruise and a cracked rib from the fight, is FINALLY made to go sit down and rest. When she wakes up, the Duke rounds up the survivors--it doesn't take long, though most of the command structure is dead--and gives 'em a speech that is basically what that says up there. He gets a bit more elaborate, though:
"Yes," he said firmly. "We can do that, and we will. You already know other companies are with us: the Clarts, the Halverics, Vladi's spears. More will join us. I pledge you, sword-brethren, that until this vengeance is complete, I will consider no other contract, and all I have will support this campaign." The Duke drew his sword and raised it in salute to the Company. "To their memory," he said. "To vengeance." And the Company growled in response : vengeance.
To recap: These morons have pissed a bunch of mercenaries off so hard that a mercenary company, which is essentially a corporation that thrives on paid murder, is going to go WITHOUT PAY until the Honeycat and his people are squished. And not just go without pay, but dedicate ALL of its reserve resources to the squishing.
They. Are So. Very. Dead.
Then the Duke hauls up individual soldiers--both genders representing--to distribute awards for valor. Eventually he hauls Paks up to the front.
"You have no captain to speak for you," he said. "Nor sergeants , nor corporals. Yet your deeds speak aloud without their aid. I cannot pick and choose among you; I will have made for each of you, from these spoils, a ring to commemorate your deeds. But those to whom you owe your lives, who brought me word of your peril: even among such honor, they deserve honor. Three started: Canna Arendts, Saben Kanasson, and Paksenarrion Dorthansdotter. "Here is a ring ," he said, "that I think best represents your deed. Three strands, for the three who started together, braided into one: the one who succeeded, the message, for returning to the place you began.
Paks reflects for a moment that this is NOT how she wanted to win glory--not over her friends' graves--and the Duke moves on. He tells them who they are to regroup under--their commander, and HIS commander, are both dead, and most of their cohort is too--and then dismisses them for the evening.
And then the Halvaric's commander shows up. The dude whose son the Honeycat shot out of the saddle for shits and giggles.
Again: THIS GUY IS SO VERY DEAD.
They sort out VERY quickly that nobody is ANYBODY'S captive and move on to the "let's go hunt down the shithead" arrangements. Also funeral arrangements, because a lot of their people are dead now.
And then we get a rather nice plot bomb during the actual funeral.
Then the Duke signalled his piper, and a tune Paks had never heard before seemed to drag all the sorrow and anger out of her heart with its own bitterness. It was the "Ar hi Tammarion," the lament written for the death of the Duke's lady by the half-elven harper at the Court of Tsaia , and not since then played openly. Paks did not know the history of the song, but felt its power, as the rough wind dried tears she had shed without knowing it.Tammarion, if you remember, is the woman mentioned during Paks' trial. She's also the woman that Paks has been compared to favorably on more than one occasion. INTERESTING.
They march back to Rotengre. The soldier who gave Paks a rough time on her return trip shows up and is VERY apologetic, and Paks is graceful about accepting his apology. Offers of ale are made, which Paks refuses. Then the Duke calls her up because he might have news about Sabin and Canna. And it probably isn't good.
It isn't.
The surgeon says Saben had taken a hard blow to the head, and probably never woke up. He died soon after they were found. Canna was not badly wounded in the fight, but when the brigands realized their hideout had been found, they tried to kill all their prisoners before they fled. Though she was still alive when the militia got in, she died several days later, here in camp. She knew you had made it, and that we'd defeated Siniava's army on the road and gone on north. The surgeon said she wanted you to have her medallion, and wanted you to know you did the right thing. She was glad you made it through; he said she died satisfied."
She gave Paks her Gird medallion, which is odd because usually those get sent back to the granges, the Girdish form of churches. The Duke also recovered the little horse she'd given Saben. He packs the rest of Sabin's things up to send to his family. He gives her a drink and sends her out of the tent to steady herself. She finds the other survivors of the cohort and collapses.
"We were so close," she whispered, as tears ran down her face. "Only a few more miles, and they—" She could not go on. Arñe got up and put an arm around her shoulders; they all sat together a long time in silence.
End of chapter.
March 15, 2014
Paksenarrion--chapter 17+18
Paks and company get surprised by a boy minding his pigs. They elect not to kill him and get directions to civilization. They get to a house, and send Saben up to get food and directions, while they watch from the trees. The woman of the house first tries to get him to come inside, then PUMPS him for information--are you alone? Where's your home?--and she's being REALLY congenial to a random dude who probably looks like he rolled in the mud, given that Saben, Canna and Paks have all been sleeping rough the last few days. Saben finally tells her that he deserted his unit for a girl, and the two armed men the women was hiding inside the house book it out the back door while she goes to get the food. Paks's nerves go up higher. The armed dudes start crawling along the house and the fence line, watching Saben the entire time while they stay out of his line of sight.
Not. Good.
Finally, Saben turns to leave, and the woman shouts "Help theif" which sends the armed guys running in her direction. Paks breaks the tree line and clashes with the guys with swords, Canna gets herself a hidden bowman, they all take care of the problem and set to interrogating the woman who set up this half-assed ambush.
They get a "DON'T search my house!" that sounds a bit too much like "DON'T throw me in the briar patch!" so they figure there's more in the house and go up for a looksie. Paks and Canna take care of the trio they find, get food, and come back out, tie up the woman and then head out. Eventually they find a road they recognize.
Chapter Eighteen:
Whoops.
They fight until Paks takes a tumble down a riverbank, and Saben tells her to run for it. She's lost her sword, but she's clear of the fight, so that's exactly what she does. Eventually she makes it up the banks and takes off into the woods. She makes it to the road and then, FINALLY, makes it to the duke's company.
And immediately gets called out by somebody who doesn't know her for being a fucking mess. Because when you survive, you're not usually shining like a daisy. Eventually they make it to somebody who knows Paks--Barri, the abrasive female recruit from way back with the shitty attitude about rape. Paks insists she has to see the duke--NOW.
Nobody goes along with it--they figure she broke her parole--until she mentions the Honeycat. She's not too coherant--she's exhausted and she's been running for several days by now, not to mention she is absolutely, in every sense of the word, filthy. The Duke gets the handful of coherant fragments Paks can put together, realizes the Honeycat is on his way, and starts moving.
She also tells him that Sabin and Canna were attacked somewhere up the road, and feels like an ass for not saying anything earlier. By this time they got some kind of stimulant into her and she is a little--VERY little--more coherant. She collapses for good not too long after sending help for Sabin and Canna.
When she wakes up, she hears a squire criticizing her and the Duke defending her. That doesn't sound so good. She goes out and they pump her for more information, including how the Honeycat is marching on the Duke's position. The commander of the guys who took the fort the first time around is listening in on the conversation. It sounds like the Honeycat killed a lot of his people too, and he looks pissed.
The Duke marches out, but he leaves Paks behind because she needs rest, and because the scribe can get all the information she has to offer, which is really more valuable than her sword right now.
The Duke gets back. He saved some of the prisoners, but not all of them. Paks doesn't ask who survived, as that's a touchy subject and she can probably pry it out of somebody less scary. She gets permission to head out with him the second time around, though she is to rest whenever she needs to.
Chapter eighteen ends with the Duke making revenge plans, but not before he tells Paks that she has done a very, very good job.
Not. Good.
Finally, Saben turns to leave, and the woman shouts "Help theif" which sends the armed guys running in her direction. Paks breaks the tree line and clashes with the guys with swords, Canna gets herself a hidden bowman, they all take care of the problem and set to interrogating the woman who set up this half-assed ambush.
They get a "DON'T search my house!" that sounds a bit too much like "DON'T throw me in the briar patch!" so they figure there's more in the house and go up for a looksie. Paks and Canna take care of the trio they find, get food, and come back out, tie up the woman and then head out. Eventually they find a road they recognize.
Chapter Eighteen:
They missed the armed band until they were face to face. Eight heavily armed brigands in scale and chain mail, with good swords at their sides, seemed to spring from the trees to surround them. Two had shields.
Whoops.
They fight until Paks takes a tumble down a riverbank, and Saben tells her to run for it. She's lost her sword, but she's clear of the fight, so that's exactly what she does. Eventually she makes it up the banks and takes off into the woods. She makes it to the road and then, FINALLY, makes it to the duke's company.
And immediately gets called out by somebody who doesn't know her for being a fucking mess. Because when you survive, you're not usually shining like a daisy. Eventually they make it to somebody who knows Paks--Barri, the abrasive female recruit from way back with the shitty attitude about rape. Paks insists she has to see the duke--NOW.
Nobody goes along with it--they figure she broke her parole--until she mentions the Honeycat. She's not too coherant--she's exhausted and she's been running for several days by now, not to mention she is absolutely, in every sense of the word, filthy. The Duke gets the handful of coherant fragments Paks can put together, realizes the Honeycat is on his way, and starts moving.
She also tells him that Sabin and Canna were attacked somewhere up the road, and feels like an ass for not saying anything earlier. By this time they got some kind of stimulant into her and she is a little--VERY little--more coherant. She collapses for good not too long after sending help for Sabin and Canna.
When she wakes up, she hears a squire criticizing her and the Duke defending her. That doesn't sound so good. She goes out and they pump her for more information, including how the Honeycat is marching on the Duke's position. The commander of the guys who took the fort the first time around is listening in on the conversation. It sounds like the Honeycat killed a lot of his people too, and he looks pissed.
The Duke marches out, but he leaves Paks behind because she needs rest, and because the scribe can get all the information she has to offer, which is really more valuable than her sword right now.
The Duke gets back. He saved some of the prisoners, but not all of them. Paks doesn't ask who survived, as that's a touchy subject and she can probably pry it out of somebody less scary. She gets permission to head out with him the second time around, though she is to rest whenever she needs to.
Chapter eighteen ends with the Duke making revenge plans, but not before he tells Paks that she has done a very, very good job.
March 12, 2014
Paksenarrion--chapter 15-16
So Paks and her friends are trying to get back to the City of Robbers so they can tell the Duke that the rest of their garrison, and the dudes who took them hostage the first time, have all been taken hostage AGAIN. Only by way worse dudes, so this time the Duke might want to step on it.
It's also really likely that she, Saben and Canna are lost. They're kind of trying to figure that out right now. They get their bearings when they find the road...which is overrun by enemy soldiers almost immediately. Not good. Even better--they can't ask for food without endangering whoever they buy from, because they're wearing the Duke's colors, but they can't ditch the colors either, because then they'll be taken for bandits.
They eventually creep up on a farm to steal food, only to discover that the bad guys were there first, and the first thing they did was kill, maim and otherwise violate the farmers. They're also cooking a cow, which they abandon in a hurry because they have to high-tail it back to the garrison full of hostages. Because they'll be leaving soon.
Canna tells Paks not to think about what might be happening to their people. Paks can't stop thinking about it. Saben is still weepy over the farmers' families because they're a lot like his family too.
Reprovisioned, they take a second to look over Canna's wound. It doesn't look too bad, but she's got an open wound through the shoulder, and she's been crawling through the mud. They clean and treat it as best they can, and the chapter ends with them setting off.
Next chapter, they manage to make it through the night; Canna's wound is getting worse. Paks asks Canna if Gird, Canna's god, wouldn't heal her. Canna is aghast that Paks knows Gird does this sometimes. Apparently it's trade secret, and anyway it takes a Marshal or a Paladin--first mention of the latter--to heal.
Canna's wound is doing better, though Paks is a little more banged up from the fight. They spend the next several days dodging patrols and fires--from villages and settlements the bad guys murdered and torched--and the chapter ends with them deciding that splitting up is still a really bad idea.
It's also really likely that she, Saben and Canna are lost. They're kind of trying to figure that out right now. They get their bearings when they find the road...which is overrun by enemy soldiers almost immediately. Not good. Even better--they can't ask for food without endangering whoever they buy from, because they're wearing the Duke's colors, but they can't ditch the colors either, because then they'll be taken for bandits.
They eventually creep up on a farm to steal food, only to discover that the bad guys were there first, and the first thing they did was kill, maim and otherwise violate the farmers. They're also cooking a cow, which they abandon in a hurry because they have to high-tail it back to the garrison full of hostages. Because they'll be leaving soon.
Canna tells Paks not to think about what might be happening to their people. Paks can't stop thinking about it. Saben is still weepy over the farmers' families because they're a lot like his family too.
Reprovisioned, they take a second to look over Canna's wound. It doesn't look too bad, but she's got an open wound through the shoulder, and she's been crawling through the mud. They clean and treat it as best they can, and the chapter ends with them setting off.
Next chapter, they manage to make it through the night; Canna's wound is getting worse. Paks asks Canna if Gird, Canna's god, wouldn't heal her. Canna is aghast that Paks knows Gird does this sometimes. Apparently it's trade secret, and anyway it takes a Marshal or a Paladin--first mention of the latter--to heal.
"We could try," said Paks. Canna stared at her
. "What are you, a paladin in disguise? You aren't even a Girdsman."
"No, that's true. But we need you to be well and strong."
"I'm— oh, all right. If you want to. It can't do any harm."They try. Something happens, but it's real vague and all Canna volunteers is that she can breathe a little easier now. She's doing well enough to suggest that maybe all the crossroads will be watched, and they'll need to be extra careful. They clear a few patrols, then run smack into a mounted rider. Paks handles it by throwing her pack at him, then running at him with her dagger. It's the only weapon she's got. Canna comes up from behind and kills the guy, while Saben takes care of the horse so it doesn't return to its stables riderless.
Canna's wound is doing better, though Paks is a little more banged up from the fight. They spend the next several days dodging patrols and fires--from villages and settlements the bad guys murdered and torched--and the chapter ends with them deciding that splitting up is still a really bad idea.
March 8, 2014
Paksenarrion chapter 14
Just so you know, the next few chapters made Young CW cry.
So Paks, Saben and Canna are off picking berries. Paks has Probable Feelings for Saben, Saben has Serious Feelings for Paks, and Canna is Just Cool in General. As Young CW had never encountered GRR Martin, she had no idea how bad this combo is re: plot matters. I hope you brought kleenex.
The Halvarics sounds Obvious Alarm. Paks is not yet practiced enough to understand that Obvious Alarm means You Fucking Run For The Nearest Weapon And God Help You If You Are Slow. Her buddies also stand their like idiots and watch a massive collum of People march on the fort. They don't start moving until the enemy start shooting their own people, and of course by now the only place they can run is for the nearst pile of brush. This gets Canna shot in the shoulder. Bonus points for her, she makes no noise whatsoever. But now they're in the middle of an ambush with one third of their party mortally wounded. Good going Paks.
They pull the arrow from Canna's shoulder. Somehow this manages to neither kill nor cripple her (There are several major veins, arteries and nerves, not to mention bones, in that very small, cramped space. If an arrow isn't lodged in a bone, odds are it's lodged in something even less arrow-friendly.)
Also: the enemy clearly wants to rape the women in Paks's little party. Nice.
So now they have to hike to Rotengre with a wounded girl. So they do the smartest thing they can: Stuff themselves with food. No, really, this is smart. Food is important, and they've been gathering berries for hours. Vitimine C is strong with berries, it'll ward off infection in Canna and it'll give Sabin and Paks the energy to make it to the city. NEVER underestimate the value of food.
They also have cheese and meat, which are apparently Fantasy World Staples. They give these to Canna because they figure she needs them.
They weather the first night intact. They make it almost to dawn when they hit the enemy's first patrol. Not good. The best part is they identify the hostage-taker as the Honeycat. Which isn't exactly a positive.
They have a breif arguement over who is in command. Canna wins, with Paks as a second. And then this happens:
I kind of want to marry this.
The chapter ends with Paks hearing some kind of drum.
So Paks, Saben and Canna are off picking berries. Paks has Probable Feelings for Saben, Saben has Serious Feelings for Paks, and Canna is Just Cool in General. As Young CW had never encountered GRR Martin, she had no idea how bad this combo is re: plot matters. I hope you brought kleenex.
The Halvarics sounds Obvious Alarm. Paks is not yet practiced enough to understand that Obvious Alarm means You Fucking Run For The Nearest Weapon And God Help You If You Are Slow. Her buddies also stand their like idiots and watch a massive collum of People march on the fort. They don't start moving until the enemy start shooting their own people, and of course by now the only place they can run is for the nearst pile of brush. This gets Canna shot in the shoulder. Bonus points for her, she makes no noise whatsoever. But now they're in the middle of an ambush with one third of their party mortally wounded. Good going Paks.
They pull the arrow from Canna's shoulder. Somehow this manages to neither kill nor cripple her (There are several major veins, arteries and nerves, not to mention bones, in that very small, cramped space. If an arrow isn't lodged in a bone, odds are it's lodged in something even less arrow-friendly.)
Also: the enemy clearly wants to rape the women in Paks's little party. Nice.
So now they have to hike to Rotengre with a wounded girl. So they do the smartest thing they can: Stuff themselves with food. No, really, this is smart. Food is important, and they've been gathering berries for hours. Vitimine C is strong with berries, it'll ward off infection in Canna and it'll give Sabin and Paks the energy to make it to the city. NEVER underestimate the value of food.
They also have cheese and meat, which are apparently Fantasy World Staples. They give these to Canna because they figure she needs them.
tone. "I know neither of you are Girdsmen, but— I wish you would join me in prayer. At least for the confusion of our enemies." "That I'll go along with," said Saben. "But won't Gird be angry if non-Girdsmen pray in his name?" "No," replied Canna. "He welcomes all honorable warriors." She reached into her tunic, the cloth rustling as she moved, and pulled out her holy symbol. Paks heard the faint chinking of the links of the chain. "Holy Gird, patron of warriors, protector of the weak, strengthen our arms and warm our hearts for the coming battles. Courage to our friends, and confusion to our enemies."I really, really love this. I DO believe that God answers even the prayers of non-believers and it's kind of awesome to see that kind of thing in print. (It's also why I find LKH's faith-based protections offensive. God wants to preserve people, IMHO; making their safety and salvation be dependent on how strongly they believe seems kind of self-defeating in my book. He fucking DIED for you. He can weather your non-belief just fine) Anyhoo, it gives God (in whatever form) an existance beyond the faith. Gird, in this case, is less dependant on your legalism. He cares more about how much help you actually need right now.
They weather the first night intact. They make it almost to dawn when they hit the enemy's first patrol. Not good. The best part is they identify the hostage-taker as the Honeycat. Which isn't exactly a positive.
They have a breif arguement over who is in command. Canna wins, with Paks as a second. And then this happens:
"Another thing— if one of us is caught , or killed, or— or whatever— the others must go on. Someone has to get to the Duke, no matter what, or the whole thing is wasted. Clear?"Paks and Saben protest, naturally. It's all for one, one for all, right? Canna is quick to set them straight:
"We're warriors first," said Canna firmly. "That's what we're here for. If you accept my command, you must accept this. We're warriors , and our duty is to our Duke. He's the only one who can help the rest, anyway. I'd leave you— I wouldn't want to, but I would. And you'll leave me, if it comes to that, rather than let the whole cohort be lost, and the Company after it."
I kind of want to marry this.
The chapter ends with Paks hearing some kind of drum.
