a snippet and a question

Oh bugger. I want Grimly to be involved in the dynastic struggle between Krothen and his father Kruin, but I've specifically said (in DotM) that the Wolver didn't get to Kothifir until Krothen was on the throne, and I don't have him meeting Tori until after the debacle at Urakarn. Therefore there's already an inconsistency in HP, which suggests that Tori and Grimly were both caught up in the above power struggle. The story-teller and the purist are clashing in me. Which is more important?

(Tori is scrying on Jame, but most of what he gets are his own memories of his early days with the Southern Host -- memories that Jame perforce shares.)

Meanwhile, I've written a short story about Patches on the night Jame left Tai-tastigon. It was very strange to see that story from the outside. I don't know what new readers will make of it.

It's terribly hot here, as I guess it is many other places. I hope you all have access to A/C.

Meanwhile, here's another snippet:

Marc paused in mixing the raw ingredients of a new batch of glass as Torisen wearily mounted the stairs to the High Council chamber.
"You look a proper mess, lad."
"So do the fields."
Torisen sank into his chair. More brown with mud than white, Yce trotted into the high council chamber after him and took refuge under the ebony table.
"I should be glad that they didn't wash away altogether. Most of the ash did. We can't even think about planting again until things dry out some."
"There's time yet," said Marc soothingly. "Anyway, you have funds now to tide us over if the summer harvest fails."
"So everyone keep reminding me."
To distract himself from that unpleasant thought, he looked up at the map. Marc had fitted the gaping, stone embrasure with a grid work of horizontal iron bars. Slotted into the uppermost was as much of the Riverland as he had so far been able to assemble. Shot incongruously with ruby to indicate gold dust, the Silver looped downward with luminous glass clusters on either side to indicate most of the Riverland keeps. Each section was made out of materials native to that particular region plus cullet from the old window to augment it. Oddly, glass fragments representing contiguous geological areas easily fused together without heat, seam, or the need of lead jointure. The result so far looked like a twisting vine shooting off lumpy fruit in a dozen glowing hues at more or less regular intervals.
"That melded glass is surprisingly strong," said Marc, contemplating his handiwork. "I think I could hammer a nail with it. Perhaps, when the map is complete, it won't need a brace at all."
"D'you think it ever will be – complete, that is?"
The big Kendar shrugged and cast a discontented look at the vacant Western Lands. The Eastern were nearly as bare, with many gaps in between. "There's a lot of space left to fill with these little pieces, much of it country which we Kencyr have never seen. Mother Ragga has supplied materials for some of it and your agents bring more home every day from wherever our reach extends." He laughed. "Quite a common effort, it's become, almost a competition. Not all the bits fit together so far, though."
He indicated the ebony table on which a crude map was drawn in chalk. Small sacks and fragments of cast glass dotted it like random pieces of a puzzle not yet attached to the whole.
"I suppose," he said, scratching his bristly chin, "that I could fill in the blanks solely with recast cullet from the original window and with local material, all held together with lead strips. That would be the normal way of things."
However, Torisen heard the reluctance in his voice, a master craftsman hesitant to compromise.
"No," he said, "go on with whatever comes in, mixed with old glass to stretch it out as you've been doing. This may be the work of several lifetimes, but it's a good start."
Marc shot Torisen a look under his shaggy, singed eyebrows. "Something else I've noticed. Travelers report that the recent floods have changed the course of the Silver yet again, especially between Shadow Rock and Wilden. See here: There used to be several meander-loops in the river, but now water has cut across the neck of the largest.
"Well, I'll be damned. So that was what Holly was talking about. I got a letter from him this morning complaining that the Randir were encroaching on his land where the river boundary had changed. Of course he would be upset: that loop contains the richest bottom land in his domain."
Holly tended to scrawl when excited. The map made clear what his hasty words had failed to convey.
"I take it that the Randir have claimed everything on their side of the river," said Marc. "Is that going to cause trouble?"
"How could it not? The Randir squeeze in wherever they can, and the Danior are too small to fight back properly. I'll need to see to this" – and hope that I have authority enough to make them listen. "But look here," he continued, puzzled. "These changes just took place. How did you know to include them in the map?"
Marc shrugged. "I didn't. They just appeared."
"You mean that the finished glass flowed again? How is that possible?"
"Blessed if I know. There's something magical about the whole project, if you ask me. I mean, how does one go from a handful of sand, soda, and lime even to simple glass, much less to something like this?" He indicated the growing expanse of glass, subtly aglow in the after light of dusk. "There may be possibilities here that we've never dreamt of. Have you tried yet to scry with it?"
Torisen shook his head, exasperated. "All it gives me are bad dreams. I look at the Southern Host's camp and what do I see? Harn, wearing a pink dress. I ask you!"