Choose

Gallery

Aug 9, 2010 Leave a comment

Holy buckets!

I just realized I did a thing before the move and then forgot to tell you guys!

On the advice of Iris, I made a GALLERY page for Choose! It is accessible via the top row of buttons on the site.

Check it out, it’s got some pics of Choose “In the Wild” and some concept sketches from an artist I’m commissioning for some extra goodies in the print version of Volume 2.

If you have a print copy of Choose and want your photo up there, please, share!

tami@tamimoore.com Email me and I will oh-so-squeefully add them!

It’s alllliiiiiive!

Aug 9, 2010 Leave a comment

SO sorry for the extra-long break there.

I’m back now, though. Internet is hooked up to the new apartment (finally) and most of the emergency new-apartment work is over.

*grins wolfishly* Let the Choose-ing begin!

New Poll

The new poll isn’t really a poll, it’s an open-ended offer to let you guys toss out some ideas. I STILL haven’t reached the results of the last poll, and I never intended to leave you guys out of the story-driving loop for this long, so hopefully this stirs some creative juices.

Jinn and Ebin have quite the game going on.

What sorts of questions do you think they should ask each other?

Feel free to guess for either character, though I’ll admit to some authorly secrets that may affect what Ebin asks or does not ask.

Sway me to your side! This one’s not a traditional poll – you guys supply the options and -I- will vote on my favorites.

<3

Ready? Set? GO!

18. Trade

Aug 9, 2010 2 Comments

Jinn smiled. “So the stray cat does have an owner.”

The cat in question pinned his ears back. The Shinra’ere lifted a hand, stilling the dresl. “He does.”

Jinn put one shoulder against the wall, giving the appearance of being at ease while still granting easy access to the tassled hilt of his arcblade.

“You’ve gone to a great deal of trouble to get me here,” said Jinn conversationally.

“I have,” agreed Ebin, setting his back to the wall and making his own weapon unaccessible. Jinn’s eyes narrowed at the insult. Such a stance indicated that Ebin felt Jinn was no threat at all.

He wasn’t wrong, not with those bars between them. Jinn tried to keep the frown from his face, but an amused whisker twitch from the notch-eared cat indicated that he hadn’t quite succeeded.

The two Shinra’ere stood like that, silently staring at each other, for a few painfully long moments. Jinn felt each minute drag past, ticking ever closer to the noon hour required by the ransom note. He did not have the dresl, nor did he have any idea of where she or Remora might be. Much as he might want to impatiently demand answers from Ebin, he might have more to gain by waiting.

“I propose a trade,” said Ebin finally, breaking the tense silence.

Jinn smiled. He was the one in the cage, but Ebin was the one at a disadvantage. By speaking first, Ebin told Jinn two very important things. One, that he had more to lose or gain than Jinn and two, that he was unlikely to kill Jinn before getting what he wanted.

He needed Jinn alive. And that meant that bars or no bars, Jinn was the one in control of this situation.

“What is it you have that I might be interested in?” Jinn asked mildly.

Ebin smiled. “Information.”

Jinn nodded. “And what is it I have that you might be interested in?”

Ebin’s smile widened. “Information,” he repeated.

Jinn looked at the thin lattice of metal bars that separated him from the other Shinra’ere and wished them gone. A fair fight, that was all he wanted. Blade against blade, winner take all. These clever word games were not his strong suit.

The cat-dresl’s lips pulled back in a cat-like smile and Jinn realized that his thoughts had led his fingers to trace the unfamiliar knot of the tassel dangling from his hilt. The yellow color proclaimed his skill level, but the knotting design indicated clanship. As Jinn of No Clan, his clansman knot had been severed and replaced with the simple braid of an Outcast.

Jinn moved his hand away. No amount of wishing would dispel those bars. He needed to focus on the tools he did have available.

“Here is what I propose,” Ebin said, brushing an invisible speck of sand from the white folds of his wrappings. “We each ask a question. If we consider the truthful answer to our opponent’s question to be worth the trade, we shall trade. The answer must be truth, and must fully answer the stated question. Additionally, if the answer is unknown, that must be stated at the outset.”

“And if we do not wish to answer?”

“Then the asker may sweeten the deal by allowing a second question to pay for the information.”

“Why the game?” Jinn asked, eyes narrowed.

He shrugged. “I find torture to be less effective.”

A truth, but only a half-truth. Torture, especially of a trained Shinra’ere, was messy and time consuming. The real reason for the game was obvious. Like the cat beside him, the man liked to play with his prey. He enjoyed the battle of wits the way that Jinn enjoyed swordplay.

Not for the first time, Jinn wished his brother stood by his side. There was no political mind game created that Maza did not excel at.

The choice was no choice at all. Jinn nodded.

Ebin clapped his hands together once. “Excellent! Let us begin. We will start out small. Is it true that an outcast Shinra’ere loses his Mark?”

The question seemed innocuous, but Jinn knew it was not. Agoge campfire tales of the horrors of becoming Outcast had been encouraged by the elders and all of them revolved around losing the Mark. Without the Mark, they would no longer be Shinra’ere: a horror worse than death.

It seemed unlikely that Ebin was considering becoming Outcast himself, so the question was morbid curiosity alone. Jinn’s respect for Ebin dropped even lower.

Still, Ebin’s first question was easy enough to answer, distasteful as he found the subject matter. Now, Jinn had to decide what question he would ask in return.

Given the opportunity, a parade of questions thundered through his mind. Which to ask? He had so many. It had not been long since he left his Clan, but such news traveled swiftly. Part of him ached to know what had become of his own dresl team, abandoned when he severed his knot. What had become of his students? His brothers in arms?

Those questions would be foolish, though. He had left that life behind him, and could not go back now. Asking would be akin to pouring salt on an open wound, and would waste valuable information.

Regretfully, he set them aside. His current situation was what mattered most. Remora and the white leopard. He needed to keep them in mind. Furthermore, he needed to know who to hunt down if things went badly.

“What is your chain of command, as far up as you know it?” Jinn asked.

Ebin paused, his brows lifting. “Well, you certainly get to the heart of the matter.” He thought for a moment. “Very well, I agree to the trade.”

Jinn nodded. As Ebin had asked first, it was only fair that he give first answer.

In a smooth motion, Jinn reached up and unfastened the knot binding his forehead wrapping. Carefully, he wound the black fabric around his hand, revealing his forehead.

Ebin’s eyes traced Jinn’s Mark, feverish with curiosity. Jinn did not need to ask what he saw. He checked it in the mirror every morning, half-afraid that the old agoge tales of Outcasts losing their Mark and their abilities might come true. They had yet to take effect, if ever they were going to. The mark still stood on his forehead, the inset design of bone sharply white against the dusky near-black of his skin.

After a moment, he nodded and Jinn carefully replaced the black wrap.

“And now it is my turn,” he said. “I have temporary assignment to follow the orders of a Shinra’dor by the name of Rjon.”

Jinn’s lips tightened at the name. “Ah, you know him then! I find his familiarity somewhat off-putting, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Is that another question?” Jinn asked, guarding his expression more carefully.

Ebin laughed. “Ah, no. You pick up the rules too quickly. No, that is not my second question. Let me finish the first answer. I currently take orders from Rjon, but I do not normally work in this city. My true master is a human sometimes called The Knife, and sometimes known as Mack.”

Startled, Jinn asked, “You work for a human?”

“Is that another question?” he parroted.

Jinn scowled and Ebin continued.

“I do not know the name of Mack’s master, but I know it to be a Seraph in the skycity of Bespin.”

A Seraph? Jinn didn’t bother concealing his amazement. A Shinra’ere working for a human was strange enough – anything involving the powerful and elusive Seraph was bad business. Very bad business, indeed.