Monthly Archives: March 2013

 

It’s time for another SFF Saturday Snippet! What’s SFF Saturday? It’s a group of authors who post snippets of SFF prose and poetry for comment. You can check out other SFF Saturday posts, too.

For the next couple of weeks, I’ll be giving you snippets from a short story I wrote called Old Wounds. This is the third part. You can find the other parts here.

When we left Master Sorne, she had been pondering why thieves would be so stupid to rob her.

Dilan cleared his throat. “He says its urgent.”

“Is it the King?”

“No.”

“The Rivvis?”

“No.”

“Then tell him to go take a piss.”

There was a pause, then a new voice sounded in the shop. “I don’t think that would be wise, Mistress Sorne.”

 

It’s time for another SFF Saturday Snippet! What’s SFF Saturday? It’s a group of authors who post snippets of SFF prose and poetry for comment. You can check out other SFF Saturday posts, too.

For the next couple of weeks, I’ll be giving you snippets from a short story I wrote called Old Wounds. This is the third part. You can find the other parts here.

When we left Master Sorne, she’d taken her sword in her hand.

All of the coin for the shop, the precious metals, the gems, she kept in a safe at the back of her workroom. She only displayed the ironwork in the front and a very few inexpensive jewelry pieces in a case. For the bulk of the wealth the shop held, the robbers would have to enter this room.

They must be incredibly stupid thieves. Everyone knew who she had been. Even with her lame leg, she could still best all but three people in a fight, and those who could defeat her had no need to steal gold.

The floor squeaked in the main part of the shop, but not close enough to have been Dilan. Someone spoke, too low and soft for Sorne to decipher the words.

 

It’s time for another SFF Saturday Snippet! What’s SFF Saturday? It’s a group of authors who post snippets of SFF prose and poetry for comment. You can check out other SFF Saturday posts, too.

For the next couple of weeks, I’ll be giving you snippets from a short story I wrote called Old Wounds. This is the second part. You can find the first part here.

When we left Master Sorne, she’d just been interrupted by her apprentice, and there’s too much fear in his voice.

Oh damn. She pulled off her jeweler’s loop and picked up her sword. “Yes?”  She used her best ill-tempered voice.

“There’s a gentleman here to see you.”

Only one? She slipped her sword free from its scabbard. “Send him away. I’m busy.”

 

It’s time for another SFF Saturday Snippet! What’s SFF Saturday? It’s a group of authors who post snippets of SFF prose and poetry for comment. You can check out other SFF Saturday posts, too.

I’m taking a bit of a break from Herald as I think I reached a good end to a chapter. I’m not sure where I’m going next in that book, so I need to let it sit. I’ve put all the previous Herald snippets together here, if you’re interested in reading them all at once.

For the next couple of weeks, I’ll be giving you snippets from a short story I wrote called Old Wounds.

This is the start:

Sorne heard her apprentice’s footsteps creaking the floorboards as he crossed the shop toward her closed door. His pace was halting, as if he weren’t sure he should be intruding. She set down her pliers and rod, least she mar the delicate gold of the coronet before her. Dilan was better than this. Her instructions had been very clear—no interruptions. She had a commission to finish by tomorrow and she was never late. She’d no plans to ruin that part of her reputation now, even if it meant a sleepless night.

Dilan rapped on her door. “Master Sorne?” His voice carried far too much fear in it.

 

It’s time for another SFF Saturday Snippet! What’s SFF Saturday? It’s a group of authors who post snippets of SFF prose and poetry for comment. You can check out other SFF Saturday posts, too.

My snippet is another few lines from a work in progress called Herald (at the moment). Eventually, the project be a fantasy loosely based on the Hundred Years War, but it’s in the very early draft stages (as in, you’re pretty much getting the words as I type em).

I’ve put all the previous snippets together here, if you need to catch up.

When we last saw Denis and the enemy King of Angth, night had fallen on the battlefield. Denis’s job is done.

Strong arms lifted him to standing and the Red King’s voice rang in his ear. “Time to return to your people, Denis. Mitchell will see you back. Eat and rest and see to your ablutions, for I will be calling on the Soleil d’Or, ere the night ends.”

“Sire.” Denis’s reply was a brittle thing that broke and shattered in the night air.

The King left him with Mitchell, who helped him back across the a battlefield hushed with the low cries of the dead. Before they reached the Revenan camp, he pulled Mitchell to a stop. “I can walk the rest of the way unaided.”

He’d be damned if he’d let the Prince think him weak.