chopper
Steven Poore - Epic Fantasist & SFSF Socialist
Ey up peeps
i'm struggling somewhat with a chapter near the front of the book - i'm wanting to lead readers to think one thing while something else is actually happening, and also to introduce a part of the main plot, without info-dumping. just let me know what you reckon to this bit.
Rashenbaum had begun to describe his journey up from the plains of Hallea to Hetch. “Of course, much of the land is cultivated now, with the Empire having been at peace for so long. Hallea must feed its own, you see, and there are vast tracts of wheat and corn, stretching away from the road for as far as the eye can see. It can be very boring when there is nothing but fields from one day to the next, as I’m sure your brother might agree if he was here. It is quite unfortunate from my point of view - so much has been disturbed and ploughed over, lost to posterity.”
Hetch frowned. “Do you mean things like old battlefields, sir?”
Rashenbaum nodded. “Yes, and abandoned farms and villages that stood in the way of progress, their populations dispersed for miles around. You might see some old shrines dotted across the landscape, but they have mostly been plundered and left to ruin. You would be surprised at how relatively undisturbed such monuments are in this region, where the Empire’s influence is not so old.”
“There are many shrines to Pyraete,” Meredith observed slowly. It was the first time he had spoken, and even Attis raised his head a little to regard him. “I have not seen their like before.”
“The Emperor commands our respect, naturally,” Rann Almoul pointed out evenly, meeting Meredith’s gaze as if daring him to disagree. The irony, Cassia thought, was that Rann bore no love at all for the Empire in that it seemed to exist only to interfere with his business. Even Vescar’s high position in the Factor’s legion had been a move calculated to make some form of profit. But Rann could never come out and voice his opinions in the open - however much he might dislike it, the fact remained that the Empire could still crush him without a thought.
“Oh, naturally,” Rashenbaum agreed. “I’m sure that Meredith never meant to suggest otherwise. He meant only that you still retain a strong sense of your own worth and identity as true men of the north. And, as such, that the good people of Keskor are closely connected to their past.”
The table was quiet for a moment. Rann seemed deep in thought, weighing the historian’s words with care. There were deep currents here, Cassia realised, and she knew that she was already out of her depth.
“Our ancestors and our past are important to us,” Rann allowed at last, gesturing toward the carved wooden rail that ran, chest high, along the length of the walls of his house. “That tells the story of Pyraete’s realm: of the first men to scale His great mountains; the kingdoms that rose and fell under His gaze. Emperors will come and go, sir, but the mountains will remain, and our hearts with them.”
Cassia blinked, the bowl of fruit now completely forgotten. She had never heard Rann say anything so incendiary before, even in private - in public, it would have been enough to see him stripped of all his property and set to work in the mines. Hetch and Tarves looked as shocked as she thought she did herself; indeed, Tarves’ ruddy complexion had paled alarmingly.
The historian appeared not to have noticed. He nodded as though he had expected such a reply, wiping his bowl with a crust of bread. “Yes, an exquisite piece of work, that rail,” he commented. “Very rare to see one so complete. There are drawings, of course, in Kalakhadze, but they hardly compare to the real thing.”
He looked up and around the table, and a tone of amusement entered his voice. “Breathe, gentlemen, please! I have no intention of outing your ambitions to the Factor. That would do nobody any good at all, not least myself.”
Rann leaned forward, his gaze locked upon the historian. “Then what is it that you want?”
Clearly he was done with dancing around the subject of tonight’s dinner. Cassia bit her lip nervously as a stray thought crossed her mind: had Rann forgotten that she and her father were still here? Why on earth would he want any witnesses to such a conversation, least of all a storyteller notorious for his lack of tact?
What kind of danger are we in?
Belatedly she realised that both Meredith and Tarves had come to the table under arms: each man had a long knife sheathed at his side, and Cassia did not doubt that they were prepared to use them. She suppressed the urge to flee from the yard with a cold shiver, hoping that her father had already reached the same conclusions.
“I want the same thing that you do, sir,” Rashenbaum said quietly. “I want to return these lands to their former glories - to free them from the Imperial yoke. For now Keskor is no more than a provincial town, always sending taxes and tributes to Hellea, while you give your sons to the legions and receive nothing in return. You know as well as I that it was not always so.”
“And what makes you believe that this can be changed?” Rann asked bluntly. “What can a mere scholar achieve that the rest of us may not?”
i'm struggling somewhat with a chapter near the front of the book - i'm wanting to lead readers to think one thing while something else is actually happening, and also to introduce a part of the main plot, without info-dumping. just let me know what you reckon to this bit.
Rashenbaum had begun to describe his journey up from the plains of Hallea to Hetch. “Of course, much of the land is cultivated now, with the Empire having been at peace for so long. Hallea must feed its own, you see, and there are vast tracts of wheat and corn, stretching away from the road for as far as the eye can see. It can be very boring when there is nothing but fields from one day to the next, as I’m sure your brother might agree if he was here. It is quite unfortunate from my point of view - so much has been disturbed and ploughed over, lost to posterity.”
Hetch frowned. “Do you mean things like old battlefields, sir?”
Rashenbaum nodded. “Yes, and abandoned farms and villages that stood in the way of progress, their populations dispersed for miles around. You might see some old shrines dotted across the landscape, but they have mostly been plundered and left to ruin. You would be surprised at how relatively undisturbed such monuments are in this region, where the Empire’s influence is not so old.”
“There are many shrines to Pyraete,” Meredith observed slowly. It was the first time he had spoken, and even Attis raised his head a little to regard him. “I have not seen their like before.”
“The Emperor commands our respect, naturally,” Rann Almoul pointed out evenly, meeting Meredith’s gaze as if daring him to disagree. The irony, Cassia thought, was that Rann bore no love at all for the Empire in that it seemed to exist only to interfere with his business. Even Vescar’s high position in the Factor’s legion had been a move calculated to make some form of profit. But Rann could never come out and voice his opinions in the open - however much he might dislike it, the fact remained that the Empire could still crush him without a thought.
“Oh, naturally,” Rashenbaum agreed. “I’m sure that Meredith never meant to suggest otherwise. He meant only that you still retain a strong sense of your own worth and identity as true men of the north. And, as such, that the good people of Keskor are closely connected to their past.”
The table was quiet for a moment. Rann seemed deep in thought, weighing the historian’s words with care. There were deep currents here, Cassia realised, and she knew that she was already out of her depth.
“Our ancestors and our past are important to us,” Rann allowed at last, gesturing toward the carved wooden rail that ran, chest high, along the length of the walls of his house. “That tells the story of Pyraete’s realm: of the first men to scale His great mountains; the kingdoms that rose and fell under His gaze. Emperors will come and go, sir, but the mountains will remain, and our hearts with them.”
Cassia blinked, the bowl of fruit now completely forgotten. She had never heard Rann say anything so incendiary before, even in private - in public, it would have been enough to see him stripped of all his property and set to work in the mines. Hetch and Tarves looked as shocked as she thought she did herself; indeed, Tarves’ ruddy complexion had paled alarmingly.
The historian appeared not to have noticed. He nodded as though he had expected such a reply, wiping his bowl with a crust of bread. “Yes, an exquisite piece of work, that rail,” he commented. “Very rare to see one so complete. There are drawings, of course, in Kalakhadze, but they hardly compare to the real thing.”
He looked up and around the table, and a tone of amusement entered his voice. “Breathe, gentlemen, please! I have no intention of outing your ambitions to the Factor. That would do nobody any good at all, not least myself.”
Rann leaned forward, his gaze locked upon the historian. “Then what is it that you want?”
Clearly he was done with dancing around the subject of tonight’s dinner. Cassia bit her lip nervously as a stray thought crossed her mind: had Rann forgotten that she and her father were still here? Why on earth would he want any witnesses to such a conversation, least of all a storyteller notorious for his lack of tact?
What kind of danger are we in?
Belatedly she realised that both Meredith and Tarves had come to the table under arms: each man had a long knife sheathed at his side, and Cassia did not doubt that they were prepared to use them. She suppressed the urge to flee from the yard with a cold shiver, hoping that her father had already reached the same conclusions.
“I want the same thing that you do, sir,” Rashenbaum said quietly. “I want to return these lands to their former glories - to free them from the Imperial yoke. For now Keskor is no more than a provincial town, always sending taxes and tributes to Hellea, while you give your sons to the legions and receive nothing in return. You know as well as I that it was not always so.”
“And what makes you believe that this can be changed?” Rann asked bluntly. “What can a mere scholar achieve that the rest of us may not?”
