As the date of the first launch party for Soul Inferno draws near (see my Facebook page for details!) I feel the time is ripe for a little announcement.
A short while ago, I announced three novellas, set in the Lotherian universe. What follows is not necessarily the first novella that’ll be published, however.
Following Theresa’s journey through Gannameade, it takes place during Soul Inferno, and focusses on Lotheria’s spymaster as she tries to find out why Phoenix has travelled to the remote country. But along the way, she might discover more than she bargained for…
That’s all of the storyline I’ll give away for now! But in penance, I’ll post a small section from the novella. Keep in mind this is unedited, and unrevised:
I thought about the bathhouse attendant, the only one who’d seen me covered in blood on the night of the murder. I found myself fingering one of the blades as I thought, and hastily shoved it into a scabbard. Lanzo knew her, and he’d made me promise not to kill again. He’d know I’d murdered her, and I doubted his perchance towards my timely rent extended enough to let me go again. He’d hand me to the guards, and I’d be killed.
It had been a day since the discovery of the bodies. I couldn’t walk the streets without arousing suspicion for at least another two.
I spent them reading in my rooms, attempting to learn more Gaan. It was a harsh, guttural language, and I excelled in learning curse words faster than anything else. I took to swearing at the quazib that ran along my windowsill every night. On the third night, he paused, a passo nut clutched in his tiny hands. His thin ears flicked back and forth as he listened to me curse, small brown eyes glinting up at me curiously.
“Quazib,” I pointed at it, as though trying to tell it its own name. I’d been in my rooms for three straight days at this point. “Maivero, or maivera?”
I’d essentially asked it if it was a young man or maiden. The sand squirrel clicked at me twice, tilted its head to the side, and then ditched the passo nut at me before trundling vertically down the side of the building.
I picked up the passo nut, feeling the velvety texture between my fingertips, and, for some reason, extreme annoyance. I rushed to the window, nut clenched within my fingers, and sighted the rear of the squirrel as he climbed down the rough clay.
“Vondejo!” I hurled the nut at the retreating rodent. It hit him squarely in the behind, and he shrieked, releasing his grip on the building and tumbling head over ass until he fell softly onto the striped awning that covered the merchant below.
Not pausing to look at me again, he grabbed the returned passo nut in his little fingers and loped out of sight.
I needed to get out.