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New Poll : What Happens Next?

Apr 27, 2010

Remora appears to have gotten herself into a bit of trouble. How shall we extricate our heroine (or…shall we leave her in the hands of these unknown assailants?)

Only you can decide!

11. Ally

Apr 27, 2010

Remora looked up to see another Shinra’ere, skin the same slate gray as Jinn’s own and eyes just as red, leaned against a nearby wall. Where Jinn’s wrappings were black, this other warrior wore pure white wrappings. The tassel dangling at her side was tied with a different knotting pattern than Jinn’s and was red where his was yellow.

“Nolan,” said Jinn, voice even and unsurprised.

“You’re back sooner than expected,” the new Shinra’ere said.

Remora’s eyebrows rose. Back? So Jinn had been here before?

“I am not here for that. It is not yet time,” replied Jinn, shooting a warning glance to Remora.

The new Shinra’ere looked at Remora, red eyes assessing her from head to toe and clearly dismissing her as not being a threat. Remora wasn’t sure if she should be insulted or relieved.

“That doesn’t matter. There’s been a problem with … “ a quick flick of the eyes at Remora “ … the package.”

Immediately, Jinn animated, straightening his posture and dropping his hands to his side, one hand brushing against the yellow tassel attached to his arcblade’s hilt. “What problem?” he asked.

Nolan stiffened. “Stand down, Jinn. We have known each other a long time, but this is still my clan and you are still Exile.”

With visible effort, Jinn relaxed, crossing his arms over his chest. Nolan nodded. “I take a risk even speaking to you. You are here over night?” she asked.

Jinn dropped his chin.

“Good. Seek a room at the Lion’s Pride. I’ll be in contact.”

Nolan took a step away, then paused, looking back. “Lose the human. Bad enough that you came back at all, let alone with a dirtsider.”

Dirtsider? A terribly derogatory term to apply to someone she hadn’t even bothered to greet!

“I cannot,” said Jinn, voice level. “She is my charge.”

Nolan’s eyes narrowed. “You are a sellsword now? A sellsword to dirtsiders?”

JInn said nothing.

Nolan curled her lip and spat once to the side. “Your brother is not worth a handful of living earth, let alone all you sacrifice for him. By the Mark, he will be the death of you in truth one of these days, Jinn.”

With that, she was gone. Remora blinked, trying to see where Nolan had gone, but saw nothing. She shivered despite the pounding heat of the sun.

Stiffening, she shook the folds of her skirt to dislodge invisible grains of sand. “I must say, Jinn, I do not much care for your friends.”

“She risks much for me,” he said, and no more, despite several plaintive looks cast in his direction as they continued their stroll to the marketplace.

Remora frowned, then firmed her lips. She would not allow Jinn’s sullen attitude to spoil what might be her only trip to a Shinra city. Nor would she allow Nolan’s rudeness to darken such a wonderfully sunny day.

A tantalizing smell wafted toward her, yeasty and sweet. A pastry vendor! Delighted, she turned darted up a side alley, following the scent.

“Remora, wait!” called Jinn, but Remora ignored him.

She had never known Jinn to refuse a pastry. She could buy him one with extra sprinkles, and perhaps coax a smile to his eyes. She would find a way to salvage this trip.

The alley turned a corner then stopped abruptly, no longer an alley but a wall, grayed with shadow.

She put her hands on her hips. She could have sworn the smell came from this alley. Perhaps it was the next one up. She turned to head back and a wolf-Dresl stepped from the shadows, eyes gleaming and a rough-hewn wooden bat in his hand.

She did not like the way he was eyeing her. She glanced around, realizing for the first time that she had lost Jinn. She returned her gaze to the wolf man. “Do pardon me, I seem to have lost my way,” she said with a smile, making as if to step around him.

He gestured with a paw-like hand. Two more Dresl stepped from the shadows, a sinuous cat-man and a powerfully-built bull-man. Both were armed and neither looked particularly like a pastry vendor.

Remora gave a nervous laugh and slipped her hand into her skirt pocket, where her tiny derringer was.

Used to be.

Her hand fumbled through the folds of her skirt, but the familiar weight of the little gun was nowhere to be found.

The cat took a step forward and held out his hand. There, on the thick paw-pad of his palm, was her gun, pearl-inlaid handle and all.

“Why, that’s my gun! Where did you get it?” she asked. Could she possibly have dropped it?

The cat began to choke. It wasn’t until the wolf started huffing that she realized they were laughing at her. Oh, dear. It was becoming increasingly obvious that they were not here to forge a friendship.

More desperately this time, she looked around. On all sides, the walls were the same smooth white limestone as the rest of the city. No handholds for climbing, even if she felt she could accomplish such a feat. No doorways or boxes or debris. She began to fear that she had fallen into a dreadfully prepared trap.

The bull-man strode forward, nostrils flaring. He gestured at her, his hoof-like fingers opening and closing in a pattern.

She took a step back, feeling the cold stone of the wall press into her back. “I…what is it you want?” she asked, throat dry.

The bull-man repeated the gestures, more sharply this time. She stared dumbly at him. The wolf-man yipped once, then gestured in a different pattern. The bull-man snorted and gestured in return.

Speech. The hand gestures were speech. So that’s how the Dresl communicated with each other and the Shinra. It made sense. With so many different types of mouths and throats, a spoken language would be impossible.

The two finished their silent conversation and the bull-man turned back to face her. For a moment, she had been so enchanted with the idea of an entire language done through hand movements that she forgot she was a victim.

“Please, I only wish to leave. I want no confrontation,” she said. Again the choking cat laughter from behind the bull-man. They could certainly understand her perfectly well.

The bull-man reached toward her with obvious menace and her heart clattered fearfully against her chest.

Poll Closed and Question

Apr 21, 2010

Poll

Looks like we have a female ally on our hands. Doing the plotbuilding based on that is leading the story in some very interesting directions! I think you’re gonna love it. <3

Question

Mr. Moore has found someone to design the cover for the next Choose volume (the one still being written).

It doesn’t have a title, yet.

Any suggestions? I was a little too sloppy with my plotting on this one, and the second volume doesn’t have an easily defined overall plot (I’ll be fixing that in the next volume. This old dog is very happy to learn new tricks!).

Suggestions?

The first volume was titled “Volume 1: The Search For a Captain”.

So this one would be “Volume 2: something something words here”.

Please, chime in with your suggestions in the comments! There may be another reader response poll if there are too many good results and I can’t choose.

The first thing that comes to my mind (and I am terrible at titling things) is “Volume 2: The Journey to Bespin” which is fairly snoreworthy even if it’s accurate.

Help me title the next book, please!