It’s almost tax day in the US. Guess who still hasn’t done hers? Yup. Every year, I say I’m going to do them as soon as I get all the paperwork, and every year, I do them the day before.
But today, 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 sixth part. You can find the other parts here.
When we left Master Sorne, her mysterious guest was holding a gun to Sorne’s apprentice’s head.
“Don’t move,” he said.
She did not know the dark-haired man. His voice held traces of a coastal accent, his bearing sure, and the hand holding the pistol fine and steady. He had money; his fingers were not those of a laborer. She held her place—and her tongue.
“Now move to your right and place the knife on the counter.”
He also had a brain. Careful to keep her movements slow and her hands visible, she laid the palmed blade on the table. At the end of the stranger’s pistol Dilan stood silently, but his whole body shook like a new leaf in a spring breeze.
“And any other blades you have on you, if you’d please.”
Any guess as to what Sorne’s very next thought is?