Cosmic Geoff
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- Jun 14, 2012
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This is the second scene file of Book II of my ‘Plain Girl’s Earrings’ trilogy.
I already posted alternate versions of the opening scene here.
The whole of Book II has been beta-read by two or three people and I have actioned their comments. Recently I have gone through the whole of Book II looking for and rewriting any infelicities.
I have just started doing the rewrite exercise on Book I, so I am wondering what to do with Book II in the meantime, since I only have one brain
.
Anyway, here is a chunk of Book II. I still have doubts about the first scene file (not shown here) and the second scene. What do you think of it?
"What was that woman doing? Is she creating a burning-pit by sorcery?" The man sounded angry, his face flushing.
Starsin didn't answer. "And who might you be, sirrah? Your office?"
"I am an official of the Chazu Holy Militia!" the man gasped.
"And is there something wrong with your wits, sir?" Starsin said, in a cultivated tone.
The man gaped.
"The thing has clearly been here a while, else why the flags? We however have just arrived in the city and were indulging our curiosity."
"What was the woman doing, then, Master?" the militiaman asked in a lower tone.
"How should I know what women do, sir? Reading her list of things to buy, perhaps? Reciting a prayer against harm? It's of no concern."
Shell burst into giggles, then tried to stifle them, placing a tanned hand, ornamented by a shiny ring and wrist-bangle, over her mouth.
"You should not cross the flag barriers," the militiaman said. "These pits are created by deadly sorcery!"
"For that we apologise," Starsin said. "We did not think it would trouble anybody save ourselves."
"Please be about your business, Master. And respect our laws and customs," the militiaman said, holding up the line of flags.
The group returned to the street, in silence. They moved on, till the militiaman was out of hearing.
Starsin was sweating and his heart was pounding. The last thing he wanted to do was attract the attention of any of the authorities here, but he had challenged the man without thinking. He took several deep breaths to calm himself.
"That was hilarious!" said Shell in excitement. "You really can talk like a noble!" Starsin wondered, not for the first time, if that young woman took him seriously.
Lannaira tugged at his sleeve. "Thanks for that! I would have done anything rather than show him the paper. I'd never have dared talk to a mazu quite like that! But how -?"
"Evidently the prospect of a complaint from a noble cowed him sufficiently. And don't thank me - jumped-up little men annoy me. But what were you doing, Lanna?" He looked into her startling blue eyes. She was as tall as he was. Her skin had faint lines, especially around the eyes, and she had a prominent nose, reddened by the sun.
"I was trying to use some control-words on the burning-pit."
"Hah? I didn't -". Starsin was aware that the burning-pits were thought to be a manifestation of the powers of the ancients, something in which Lannaira and her acquaintances took a serious interest, but talk of control-words was beyond him.
"I'll explain later; it's too public here."
"All right."
He re-mounted and urged his timalt into a canter, past plots of market crops. A squad of ten mounted Virnal troopers was headed the other way, toward the gates. Soon he was forced to rein in.
"What's that crowd doing there?" he asked of Lannaira. She shook her head.
They were beside a crossroads; one broad street ran parallel to the circuit of walls, while the road they travelled ran on into the city. Moving on, they found half of the roadway marked off by sticks with flags on them, for no reason that Starsin could discern. A press of people crowded the road, but the fenced-off part was clear.
Starsin's six-legged timalt mount ambled with determination onto the clear part of the roadway. He was astonished to find himself shouted at by the populace. Many were gesticulating at him to get back. He hauled on the reins.
"Stop fooling around, Falcon!" Lannaira yelled at him. As the timalt backed, a horse-chariot, driven at a furious pace, skidded around the corner by a farm house. Drawn by two grey horses, it shot past inches from the nose of his timalt with a thunder of steel-shod hooves and a whir of wheels. Another chariot, whip-driven, black-horsed, raced after it, almost clipping the flimsy barriers as it slid out of the corner. Starsin's timalt shied and reared, raising its forelegs, and in an effort to control it he battered its head with his riding stick while the crowd roared in the wake of the chariots.
"Chariot racing!" Lannaira cried. "We must see this!"
"Let's move on," said Starsin. After his bad experiences in Calah, he wanted to enter the friendly embrace of their Sharynite co-conspirators as soon as possible, and not stand in the street exposed to the unseen threat of Virnal surveillance.
"No, I want to watch this," said Lannaira.
"So do I," said the black-haired Norherner, Rurnik, with a rare enthusiasm. "Looks like this is the practice."
"I don't mind," said blonde Shell, at Rurnik's shoulder.
"I want to find the Sharyns, not stand in the street," Starsin said.
"A little time won't hurt. We're supposed to be race fans. Try acting in character," Lannaira said.
Ussha was not looking at the improvised race-track, but glancing around with a strained
expression. She gestured with her hands, signing that she did not understand what was happening. Starsin urged his mount closer to her and touched her on her shoulder, for reassurance. Her snub-nosed face turned to him. Starsin felt a warmth of affection, combined with a thorny thread of guilt. He pointed to the gates, and signed that they were not concerned by this. Ussha nodded. Starsin pointed to the fenced off street and signed that it was for fast carts.
Fast carts?? - Ussha signed back, seeming puzzled.
Warrior carts - Starsin signed, as an afterthought.
Ussha smiled and nodded.
They found a scrap of open ground where they could sit astride the timalts and see over the heads of the crowd. Rurnik had his back to Starsin. Black leather jacket, black hair. Small and skinny, unlike most of the Northern barbarians. Black character too, the Exalt believed.
The racing chariots came around the course again. Starsin, annoyed and impatient, wanted to go on into the city, but needed his guide.
"We should move on and contact the Sharyns. We're wasting time here."
"Don't fuss!" Lannaira said. "We need to find lodgings first, anyway."
"Most lodgings will be taken, with so many chariot race fans in the city."
He could tell by Lannaira's expression that she had not thought of this. "There's always something, Starsin. What do you intend, to knock on the front doors with the whole party? That may attract more attention than you desire. Besides, you can't arrive at their mansions looking like that. You need the clothing and and accessories of a young nobleman. We need to go and procure some."
Starsin could not dispute this. "Well, can we move on and find lodgings, then?"
After half a deci-urnal, there was no more evidence of chariot practice, and traffic streamed back onto the roadway.
They forced their way onwards, towards the inner part of the city.
Further ahead, they passed walls screening richly planted parks and gardens. Chazu was at any rate different from his city of birth, Calah.
The first inns they passed had crossed House Full signs hung over their street gates.
They passed the noise and stink of a great market where all classes of goods from livestock through vegetables to hardware and slaves were for sale. They passed a district of large single-story houses of stone built around courtyards. These houses shut themselves away from the street, showing to the outside world only the high slits of windows while within, as an occasional glimpse through a servant-guarded gateway revealed, was a world of greenness and bright flowers, and the soft patter of water.
"Do you think we should ask at these inns anyway?" Shell asked. "I'm tired and hungry."
"No, they're heaving!" Starsin snapped.
They came to a stone wall forty feet high and twenty feet thick, that enclosed the older, pre-Empire city. Here was another gateway, still open, but watched by a company of soldiers who held pikes and were dressed in an armour of woven cane and leather.
"We go through there," said Lannaira. "Don't do anything that might attract their enthusiasm."
"What, another security check? I don't like this!"
Lannaira scowled. "And where do you think the Sharyn mansion is, Starsin?"
Starsin swore. "Oh, very well."
Ussha poked Starsin and made a questioning gesture. Her lips parted, showing a near-perfect set of teeth, with a small gap in the upper front.
We go there - he signed.
Ussha made the same questioning gesture.
It hurt him that he could not make her understand. Lannaira helped him out.
Older city there - she signed. Ussha nodded.
They rode forward.
I already posted alternate versions of the opening scene here.
The whole of Book II has been beta-read by two or three people and I have actioned their comments. Recently I have gone through the whole of Book II looking for and rewriting any infelicities.
I have just started doing the rewrite exercise on Book I, so I am wondering what to do with Book II in the meantime, since I only have one brain
.Anyway, here is a chunk of Book II. I still have doubts about the first scene file (not shown here) and the second scene. What do you think of it?
**********************************************************
Starsin heard shouting behind him. He turned. A man with a staff and badge had crossed the strung line of flags. He was robed, face twisted in determination, and strode forward in an officious manner. "What's the problem, my man?" Starsin asked him."What was that woman doing? Is she creating a burning-pit by sorcery?" The man sounded angry, his face flushing.
Starsin didn't answer. "And who might you be, sirrah? Your office?"
"I am an official of the Chazu Holy Militia!" the man gasped.
"And is there something wrong with your wits, sir?" Starsin said, in a cultivated tone.
The man gaped.
"The thing has clearly been here a while, else why the flags? We however have just arrived in the city and were indulging our curiosity."
"What was the woman doing, then, Master?" the militiaman asked in a lower tone.
"How should I know what women do, sir? Reading her list of things to buy, perhaps? Reciting a prayer against harm? It's of no concern."
Shell burst into giggles, then tried to stifle them, placing a tanned hand, ornamented by a shiny ring and wrist-bangle, over her mouth.
"You should not cross the flag barriers," the militiaman said. "These pits are created by deadly sorcery!"
"For that we apologise," Starsin said. "We did not think it would trouble anybody save ourselves."
"Please be about your business, Master. And respect our laws and customs," the militiaman said, holding up the line of flags.
The group returned to the street, in silence. They moved on, till the militiaman was out of hearing.
Starsin was sweating and his heart was pounding. The last thing he wanted to do was attract the attention of any of the authorities here, but he had challenged the man without thinking. He took several deep breaths to calm himself.
"That was hilarious!" said Shell in excitement. "You really can talk like a noble!" Starsin wondered, not for the first time, if that young woman took him seriously.
Lannaira tugged at his sleeve. "Thanks for that! I would have done anything rather than show him the paper. I'd never have dared talk to a mazu quite like that! But how -?"
"Evidently the prospect of a complaint from a noble cowed him sufficiently. And don't thank me - jumped-up little men annoy me. But what were you doing, Lanna?" He looked into her startling blue eyes. She was as tall as he was. Her skin had faint lines, especially around the eyes, and she had a prominent nose, reddened by the sun.
"I was trying to use some control-words on the burning-pit."
"Hah? I didn't -". Starsin was aware that the burning-pits were thought to be a manifestation of the powers of the ancients, something in which Lannaira and her acquaintances took a serious interest, but talk of control-words was beyond him.
"I'll explain later; it's too public here."
"All right."
He re-mounted and urged his timalt into a canter, past plots of market crops. A squad of ten mounted Virnal troopers was headed the other way, toward the gates. Soon he was forced to rein in.
"What's that crowd doing there?" he asked of Lannaira. She shook her head.
They were beside a crossroads; one broad street ran parallel to the circuit of walls, while the road they travelled ran on into the city. Moving on, they found half of the roadway marked off by sticks with flags on them, for no reason that Starsin could discern. A press of people crowded the road, but the fenced-off part was clear.
Starsin's six-legged timalt mount ambled with determination onto the clear part of the roadway. He was astonished to find himself shouted at by the populace. Many were gesticulating at him to get back. He hauled on the reins.
"Stop fooling around, Falcon!" Lannaira yelled at him. As the timalt backed, a horse-chariot, driven at a furious pace, skidded around the corner by a farm house. Drawn by two grey horses, it shot past inches from the nose of his timalt with a thunder of steel-shod hooves and a whir of wheels. Another chariot, whip-driven, black-horsed, raced after it, almost clipping the flimsy barriers as it slid out of the corner. Starsin's timalt shied and reared, raising its forelegs, and in an effort to control it he battered its head with his riding stick while the crowd roared in the wake of the chariots.
"Chariot racing!" Lannaira cried. "We must see this!"
"Let's move on," said Starsin. After his bad experiences in Calah, he wanted to enter the friendly embrace of their Sharynite co-conspirators as soon as possible, and not stand in the street exposed to the unseen threat of Virnal surveillance.
"No, I want to watch this," said Lannaira.
"So do I," said the black-haired Norherner, Rurnik, with a rare enthusiasm. "Looks like this is the practice."
"I don't mind," said blonde Shell, at Rurnik's shoulder.
"I want to find the Sharyns, not stand in the street," Starsin said.
"A little time won't hurt. We're supposed to be race fans. Try acting in character," Lannaira said.
Ussha was not looking at the improvised race-track, but glancing around with a strained
expression. She gestured with her hands, signing that she did not understand what was happening. Starsin urged his mount closer to her and touched her on her shoulder, for reassurance. Her snub-nosed face turned to him. Starsin felt a warmth of affection, combined with a thorny thread of guilt. He pointed to the gates, and signed that they were not concerned by this. Ussha nodded. Starsin pointed to the fenced off street and signed that it was for fast carts.
Fast carts?? - Ussha signed back, seeming puzzled.
Warrior carts - Starsin signed, as an afterthought.
Ussha smiled and nodded.
They found a scrap of open ground where they could sit astride the timalts and see over the heads of the crowd. Rurnik had his back to Starsin. Black leather jacket, black hair. Small and skinny, unlike most of the Northern barbarians. Black character too, the Exalt believed.
The racing chariots came around the course again. Starsin, annoyed and impatient, wanted to go on into the city, but needed his guide.
"We should move on and contact the Sharyns. We're wasting time here."
"Don't fuss!" Lannaira said. "We need to find lodgings first, anyway."
"Most lodgings will be taken, with so many chariot race fans in the city."
He could tell by Lannaira's expression that she had not thought of this. "There's always something, Starsin. What do you intend, to knock on the front doors with the whole party? That may attract more attention than you desire. Besides, you can't arrive at their mansions looking like that. You need the clothing and and accessories of a young nobleman. We need to go and procure some."
Starsin could not dispute this. "Well, can we move on and find lodgings, then?"
After half a deci-urnal, there was no more evidence of chariot practice, and traffic streamed back onto the roadway.
They forced their way onwards, towards the inner part of the city.
Further ahead, they passed walls screening richly planted parks and gardens. Chazu was at any rate different from his city of birth, Calah.
The first inns they passed had crossed House Full signs hung over their street gates.
They passed the noise and stink of a great market where all classes of goods from livestock through vegetables to hardware and slaves were for sale. They passed a district of large single-story houses of stone built around courtyards. These houses shut themselves away from the street, showing to the outside world only the high slits of windows while within, as an occasional glimpse through a servant-guarded gateway revealed, was a world of greenness and bright flowers, and the soft patter of water.
"Do you think we should ask at these inns anyway?" Shell asked. "I'm tired and hungry."
"No, they're heaving!" Starsin snapped.
They came to a stone wall forty feet high and twenty feet thick, that enclosed the older, pre-Empire city. Here was another gateway, still open, but watched by a company of soldiers who held pikes and were dressed in an armour of woven cane and leather.
"We go through there," said Lannaira. "Don't do anything that might attract their enthusiasm."
"What, another security check? I don't like this!"
Lannaira scowled. "And where do you think the Sharyn mansion is, Starsin?"
Starsin swore. "Oh, very well."
Ussha poked Starsin and made a questioning gesture. Her lips parted, showing a near-perfect set of teeth, with a small gap in the upper front.
We go there - he signed.
Ussha made the same questioning gesture.
It hurt him that he could not make her understand. Lannaira helped him out.
Older city there - she signed. Ussha nodded.
They rode forward.
