Audio Story
I have a story on Episode 86 of the podcast Far Fetched Fables! "Remembering the Dragon" by Aidan Doyle, read by Eric Luke; and "The Potter's Daughter" by Martha Wells, read by Diane Sieverson:
http://farfetchedfables.com/far-fetched-fables-no-86-martha-wells-and-aidan-doyle/
This story was originally published in the anthology Elemental in May 2006, and is available in ebook in the collection Between Worlds: the Collected Ile-Rien and Cineth Stories
The potter’s daughter sat in the late afternoon sun outside the stone cottage, making clay figures and setting them out to dry on the flat slate doorstep. A gentle summer breeze stirred the oak and ash leaves and the dirty grey kerchief around her dirty blond hair.
Someone was coming up the path.
She could hear that he was without horse, cart, or company, and as he came toward her through the trees she saw that he was tall, with dark curly hair and a beard, with a pack and a leather case slung over one shoulder. He was unarmed, and dressed in a blue woolen doublet, faded and threadbare, brown breeches and brown top boots. The broad-brimmed hat he wore had seen better days, but the feathers in it were gaily colored. Brief disappointment colored her expression; she could tell already he wasn’t her quarry.
Boots crunched on the pebbles in the yard, then his shadow fell over her and he said, "Good day. Is this the way to Riversee?"
She continued shaping the wet clay, not looking up at him. "Just follow this road to the ford."
"Thank you, my lady Kade."
Now she did look up at him, in astonishment. Part of the astonishment was at herself, that she could still be so taken by surprise. She dropped the clay and stood, drawing a spell from the air.
http://farfetchedfables.com/far-fetched-fables-no-86-martha-wells-and-aidan-doyle/
This story was originally published in the anthology Elemental in May 2006, and is available in ebook in the collection Between Worlds: the Collected Ile-Rien and Cineth Stories
The potter’s daughter sat in the late afternoon sun outside the stone cottage, making clay figures and setting them out to dry on the flat slate doorstep. A gentle summer breeze stirred the oak and ash leaves and the dirty grey kerchief around her dirty blond hair.
Someone was coming up the path.
She could hear that he was without horse, cart, or company, and as he came toward her through the trees she saw that he was tall, with dark curly hair and a beard, with a pack and a leather case slung over one shoulder. He was unarmed, and dressed in a blue woolen doublet, faded and threadbare, brown breeches and brown top boots. The broad-brimmed hat he wore had seen better days, but the feathers in it were gaily colored. Brief disappointment colored her expression; she could tell already he wasn’t her quarry.
Boots crunched on the pebbles in the yard, then his shadow fell over her and he said, "Good day. Is this the way to Riversee?"
She continued shaping the wet clay, not looking up at him. "Just follow this road to the ford."
"Thank you, my lady Kade."
Now she did look up at him, in astonishment. Part of the astonishment was at herself, that she could still be so taken by surprise. She dropped the clay and stood, drawing a spell from the air.
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Erica wrote: "And in other podcast news, The Cloud Roads is the book-of-the-week on the Writing Excuses podcast this week. http://www.writingexcuses.com/2015/12......"
Oh, that's great! Thank you!
http://www.writingexcuses.com/2015/12... (it's around minute 10 if you're skipping to the book-of-the-week).
When they asked for a book of the week from the audience I knew I wanted to do Cloud Roads, though I was a touch sleep deprived by that point in the retreat, so hopefully it was coherent.