From the Blog

May
09
Posted by Daniel at 7:50 pm

This is a description of the sparring arena in Judah.

The recesses of the huge hall were dark as mountain roots. Rusted chains with links as big as fists tethered cold iron platforms to the walls, where dripping pipes exposed their innards. Chipping white paint marked off symbols and positions. The floor was a rough concrete, pitted and pocked, smelling of oil and feet. Overturned waters heaters, sheets of aluminum, the cream-white hood of an ancient car: these were stuffed around the center of the hall. They had groaned against each other until they found stability. Now, they creaked beneath the weight of spectators.

In the arena’s center were two pillars, fifty-gallon drums whose warnings had faded, painted over with lilies and pomegranates. Names were written on them: Boaz and Yakin. Spotlights like upturned bowls reposed above. There was a timer: they kachunked on, both at once, and spat down their beams through delicate grilles. The light billowed and spread; it revealed dust motes that gave contour to the air: a backlit sheet given to the wind, a rug cracked out beneath the spring sun. The place hummed.

May
03

From Chapter Three. I love these people.

Vine Rhizome waited for her father to go to sleep. Her hair was covered up, bright red obscured beneath coalish cotton, and tied back so tightly that she worried unreasonable things: the follicles would pop out like plugs jerked from sockets; her forehead skin would slide back to reveal what it hid; and what if it hid circuitry? “But it’s cool out tonight,” she rehearsed, “and I’ll freeze to death if I don’t wear it.”

The Hivelord snored.

Vine heard a chainsaw once. It was in a museum, in Babel. The thing was orange and black, plastic. She thought she saw bloodstains on it. It was set up on a pedestal in the middle of the auditorium, and the lights were all clicked off except for one, and it shone so brightly on the blade that it hurt her eyes. The Anthropos was standing behind it for a demonstration. “This,” he said, “is how they used to murder the children of the Goddess.” He revved it up and swung it around and lost his balance and fell over and cut his left hand off. But, before that, while the chainsaw was ripping through the hair, for just a moment the as yet whole left hand of the Anthropos was centered in the light, and Vine studied it. It was like a child’s: the fingers were thin and short; the nails were perfect semicircles. And, whenever she heard her father snore, which is to say every night, she thought of that man’s delicate, childlike hands with the semicircle nails.

The Hivelord’s snoring sounded like that.

May
02
Posted by Daniel at 9:37 pm

Cut from chapter 3, where we’re introduced to one of Root’s peers.

The world is dying, did you know that? There’s even a word for it: entropy. I’m serious about this. I read about it today. We’re all dying our way to the grave, and the world is following us. Pretty soon, it’ll all settle into a big, soggy goo. It’ll crust over and flake off, but there won’t be anywhere for the flakes to go. The last bits will just float around in what used to be the air. They’ll get smaller and smaller, and then they’ll vanish, and no one will be there to see it.

I think she and Rorschach would get along. They could eat beans together.

Apr
16

This scene introduces one of the main characters of the book: the Arksazer Strix. You’re not supposed to know what’s going on now; just go with it.

“There are no exceptions, Kapra.”

There was still blood on Kapra’s cheeks. Arksazer Strix thumbed it off and smiled. The pair walked in the middle of the great horde that fronted the triumph procession. Piled up pots and trunks and coins and weapons and half-rotted oats weighted down the boz-carts in the back. Children were dancing. Women were singing to bone tambourines. Kapra grinned.

“I didn’t think I’d be able to do it.”

“That’s the way it is for everyone the first time.”

Kapra spun around to take it all in again. He was young, and his beard was wispy, little brown sprouts planted unevenly. Pimples dotted his forehead, and his limbs were thin like tendrils. His eyes were filled with wonder.

“But I’m proud of you,” the Arksazer continued. “Your blood is better than your father’s. He couldn’t have accomplished what you have.”

“Thanks, Uncle.” Kapra’s smiled shrunk. “I didn’t want to tell you, but, at first, I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t move. I just stood. It was so—it was like there weren’t any people, just sounds and shapes and things moving around.”

Strix nodded. “What changed it for you?”

“Seeing other people do it.”

“Mmhmm.”

“It was lucky, really.” Kapra coughed. “Like I said, I was just standing there. And then one of them ran up to me. Maybe two or three—I don’t know how old he was. It might have been a girl. I don’t know. I didn’t even realize what it was then. It was just a thing touching me. He was saying something, but I only saw his mouth moving. I just stood there.

“And that’s when someone—Vix, maybe—he comes up to me, and he’s already dripping from it, you know? He doesn’t even look at me. He’s carrying an axe, but he drops it when he gets close. I watched it fall. It fell so slow. And when I looked up, he had the kid by the ankles and was swinging him around. He kept on spinning, and his face was a blur, and the kid’s face was a blur, and it was like they came together. And then it stopped.

“There was a big rock next to where I was standing, and when the kid’s head cracked into it, we both got covered. That’s when he looked at me. I don’t know for how long, but, when it was over, I felt like something was different inside. He pointed at the teeth on the ground and laughed: they were so small. I laughed with him. And, when he ran off to catch another one, I went after him.”

“How many did you get?”

“Four, I think.”

The Arksazer Strix patted his nephew on the back. “Starts to get fun, doesn’t it?”

A flute squealed a sour note. Behind them, widows moaned in cages.

“Absolutely it does.” Kapra shook his head; he became contemplative. “It’s the greatest rush I’ve ever had. I felt—I can’t describe it.”

“It’s divine pleasure,” the Arksazer said. “It’s the pleasure of executing the will of our king. It’s the pleasure of participating in the only thing that can give your life meaning. As soon as I felt it for the first time, I was sure: I had to give my life to this.”

“I know exactly what you mean. There’s this confidence I feel now, deep. Like, for instance, one of the women back there?” Kapra gestured over his shoulder at the cages. “I was walking past, and she spits at me! Before, I’d never touch a woman, but now—you know what I did? I reached in the cage and punched her right in the face. Her teeth fell out just like that kid’s. Blood was all over my hand when I pulled it out. You should have seen—”

Strix’s face blanked. “You did what?”

“I punched her! You should have heard—”

“You actually touched her?”

Yeah I did, and she’ll remember it next time before she—”

“Did anyone see you?”

Kapra thought. “I think maybe—”

“No, don’t tell me.” Strix breathed. “You know the married women are devoted to the king, don’t you?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Then you know what you did.”

“What I did?” Kapra crossed his arms. “I just punched her. She deserved it. It wasn’t that hard. It was just a touch, basically.”

“From your own mouth.”

The Arksazer put his head in his hands; he stopped walking. The procession flowed around them like current past riverstones. Strix ran fingers through his hair; he breathed quickly and held it.

“I’m sorry,” Arksazer Strix finally said. “You would have been a son to me.”

He put a knife into the stomach of his nephew. He did not draw it out again.

The people stopped to watch the boy writhe. They pointed and whispered.

“His face—he weeps.”

“What will we do when the priest himself is unclean?”

Arksazer Strix unwound his turban, removed his breastplate, and stepped out of his sandals. He walked between green-glowing theria to begin the week of his exile. He vanished in the shadow of the dripping, droning forest.

Apr
13
Posted by Daniel at 9:58 pm

Here’s the opening to a little fantasy thing I’ve been thinking about for a while. I hadn’t written anything on it until tonight. This is what I’ve got. I like it. If I don’t watch myself, I might end up writing it.

The Anarchist took his coffee scalding hot and cavern-black. His one-room thatched-roof sweat-soaked cottage cramped in around him. His table was spread with overwritten letters, and he bounced infant Chara in his lap. The Anarchist was on his last letter of the morning, and he spat out his coffee when he read it.

“This is it! This is the one! I knew it I knew it I knew it!”

The Anarchist slapped the table, and his wife, rolling biscuits, sighed.

The Anarchist was not yet called the Anarchist. He was called Khrysos (because of his hair), and that’s what his wife Argyra called him just then.

“Khrysos,” she said. “Khrysos, I don’t want you to get your hopes up about this one; there’s only—”

“To Khrysos of Oikon,” Khrysos began. He peered over the paper at his wife; he raised his brow. “That’s me,” he said.

“Mmhmm.”

“To Khrysos  of Oikon, greetings from Spurius Pompilius Caveat—hey! I remember that guy!”

Argyra put the biscuits over the fire. “Oh?”

“Absolutely! He’s this merchant up in—where was it? Dulce? Decorum? Oh! Fortuna! That’s where it was: Fortuna. Anyway: To Khrysos, so on and so forth, it is likely that you do not remember me—ha! Gotcha! I utterly remember this guy. He had this little donkey named Dolores that would only walk backward if it rained, and you know, over there, it rains like every—oh, nevermind. It is likely, says Spurius Pompilius Caveat—there’s a name for you—it is likely that you do not remember me.

“I have—” Khrysos held up a finger and smiled. “Listen to this: I have suffered a regrettable accident that I believe will qualify under the policy we discussed earlier this year, and I am willing to take up your offer. Some property of mine has gone missing, and I have reason to believe that goblins may be involved. For reasons I prefer not to discuss in writing, I am unwilling to obtain redress through the usual channels. I may be contacted at 335 Blah Blah Blah Whatever Whatever The End.

“Did you hear that!?” Khrysos slapped the letter back on the table; it soaked up his spit-out coffee. “Did you hear that?”

Argyra nodded. “I heard it.”

“And?”

“I’m very happy for you.”

“But?”

“You know but.”

“I do know but.” Khrysos dragged his palm over his face and let Chara down to crawl. “But, even though I know but, don’t you think it would be—”

“I know it would mean a lot to you.” Argrya said. She seated herself at the table and placed her hands over his. The scent of the biscuits filled the cottage.

“It wouldn’t just mean a lot,” Khrysos said. “It would mean everything. It would be a justification of everything I’ve been through; it would make it all worth it in retrospect.”

“But you’ll have to leave us.”

“Not forever.”

“How long?”

Khrysos sighed. “How much longer do I have?”

Argyra counted on her fingers; her hair was the lightning-blue of her people. “Three months. Father will expect you at the castle then.”

“That’s no good,” Khrysos said. “It’ll take a month just to get there and another to get back. How am I supposed to—”

Argyra shrugged at him. “That was the deal. Father’s being very generous, you know, and I don’t care to see you acting like he’s not. He gave you all that money to start with, and he gave you a whole year to pay it back, and how much have you paid back so far?”

Khrysos snorted.

“Exactly,” Argyra said. “And he’s been putting up with all your weirdness and your issues—like, oh, I don’t know, insisting that we live only on your savings. Here. In this shack in the mud. Here.” She gestured around the demense. “We could very well be staying up in the castle. They have floors there you know. I’d grown accustomed to floors.”

“Princess.”

“I know! I am!”

Khrysos crossed his arms; he split his face between anger and humiliation. “Well, I’m sorry that I couldn’t provide you with a castle and a moat and sixteen hundred pairs of shoes and a—”

“Don’t start! I don’t want to hear it.”

They stewed and watched the baby crawl. The biscuits got cold.

“Go,” Argyra heaved out at last.

“What? I’m sorry, Little Sweetbiscuit; I didn’t mean to—”

“No,” she said. “I mean go. To Fortuna. Exercise your right of sub—supra—super—”

“Subrogation.”

“Yes. That. Exercise that on those goblins, get Whoever-It-Was back his property, and come back here  in three months with your pockets stuffed out with policy subscriptions. Or don’t. I don’t care. Just come back. I’ll be proud of you either way.”

“Really?”

“Of course.” Argyra smiled. “It doesn’t matter to me one bit whether you do your own business or the King’s. You’ll be doing one or the other in three months, and I don’t care which. I just want my husband back, preferably without goblin teethmarks in him.”

“Well, then,” Khrysos said. “It’s really happening! This is really happening! I’m really going to do this! I’m going to go up to Fortuna, talk to that guy, get him his stuff, grab whatever from the goblins—and, when I come back in three months, everyone’s going to say ‘Hey, remember that Khrysos guy?’ And someone will say ‘Yeah, what a loser.’ And then someone else will say, ‘Whoa, whoa! Hold up! You heard he’s doing this thing now, right?’ And they’ll be like, ‘No, what?’ And the other one will say, ‘It’s called insurance.’ And they’ll be like, ‘What’s that?’ And no one will know, but everyone will respect it.”

Khrysos gathered his girls in his arms, threw open the door, and breathed in the sunshine.

“This is probably the greatest thing ever.”

ONE MONTH LATER

Khrysos felt the goblin-chains around his arms, heard the gate rattle shut, and breathed in the darkness.

“This is probably the worst thing ever.”

Hivelord Rhizome is already one of my favorite characters. Check him out in this excerpt from chapter 2. This is his first scene. Also in this scene, you’re introduced to Spore Cedarson, the main character Root’s older brother.

Hivelord Rhizome had no chairs in his office. He never sat. He stood to work and reclined to sleep. These were his postures.

He stood now, pacing in the dimness of the room. A single solar battery coughed out lumens. Only the elevated interior of the room had any light at all. There were no windows; everything was matte white metal. The depressed foyer was black and silent, and the door was always closed.

A voice spoke from within his ears: “Your party is ready.”

“Begin audio conference,” the Hivelord said. He resumed pacing and dragged fingers through the tangles of his brown and gray beard.

“Hivelord Rhizome, the Archon greets you.”

“It is a pleasure to speak with the Interface.”

“The Archon wishes to engage in pleasantries: how are things in Midian?”

“The theria are tranquil. The people as well.”

“As the Archon expects. The Archon believes you know the reason for this meeting.”

“I assume it’s about the item I recovered?”

“Precisely. The Archon is pleased. The Archon imagines that you do not comprehend the intensity of his pleasure.”

“I am humbled.”

“The Archon,” the Interface continued, “desires to reward you. You will receive a reward of type extravagant.”

“Sir—”

“The Archon knows you will protest. He knows that your only pleasure is service to the Collective. Nevertheless, he insists. The Archon informed me that he will suffer displeasure should you not redeem the reward within six days.”

“Very well.”

“Furthermore, the Archon desired me to stress a matter: these items, these constructors, make the Archon suffer concern. He desires them all destroyed as quickly as possible. There is, to our knowledge, no record of their total number; and their current locations are unknown. However, the Archon desires me to relay this message: recover additional constructors, and your reward will more closely align with your tastes. The Archon is prepared to expand your privileges within the Collective. The Archon refuses specificity on this matter, but, for a sufficient number of constructors recovered, the Archon has said that he will not deny any position to you.”

Hivelord Rhizome stopped pacing. “Any position?”

“Those were the Archon’s words.”

“Even the—”

“Those were the Archon’s words.”

Hivelord Rhizome controlled his breathing. He clenched his fists.

“Tell the Archon that he will have his constructors.”

“Acknowledged. This session is terminated. The Archon wishes you good evening.”

A knock on the door. Rhizome’s visual display activated. He saw in front of his eyes the image of a young man’s face: early twenties, dark brown hair, strong jaw, shaved. Rhizome frowned. The display vanished.

“Come in.”

The young man entered the darkness of the foyer and stood at attention. He wore the scarlet uniform of a rekter. Bars and pins hung from his chest; symbols were strapped around his arm. He waited for his superior to speak.

“Rekter Cedarson.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Your marks are very good. I saw the most recent test results.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“They’re the best.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I prefer the best.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Women prefer the best.”

“I take your word for it, sir.”

“And that, rekter, is the only similarity between myself and a woman.”

“Sir.”

“Now then!” Rhizome paced and kept the rekter in the dark. “Now we can talk. Would you like to have a seat?”

Rekter Cedarson looked around. “I’m sorry sir, but I don’t see any chairs.”

“That’s because there aren’t any.”

“Yes, sir.”

But, if there were, say, a chair in here, or perhaps a couch—or, you’ll forgive me, a divan—would you then like to sit down?”

Rekter Cedarson’s eyes shifted. “I don’t suppose so, sir.”

“There’s a man! It’s a sign of weakness, you know—sitting down. Look at my desk here.” The Hivelord gestured to a plane of polished metal jutting from the wall just below his chest. “The perfect height. I had this made especially for myself. I can work on it, you see, standing up. A man sitting is a man not living. What is it when you sit? It’s inactivity. And what’s inactivity? Death. No, you’ll not see me sitting down on the job—or off it, for that matter. When I sleep, it is purely a concession to the exigencies of nature. I encourage you, Rekter Cedarson, to adopt my attitude on this matter. Also, stop that infernal and unnatural shaving of your face. Don’t you feel, with every follicle plucked from the subcutaneous, an equal sliver of your virility vanish? I’ve shaved once, Rekter Cedarson, and that is a mistake I shall never repeat. Maintain a beard, Rekter Cedarson, maintain a beard. Now, then, what is it you wanted to see me about?”

“Sir. I’ve come to ask something very—”

“And it’s fortunate that you’ve come at this hour, rekter, because it saves me the bother of scheduling an appointment with you. There is a matter about which I must speak to you. Not you in particular, you understand. But it happens to be you, you as the rekter with the highest marks.”

“As you wish, sir.”

“But, no, go on. We can discuss it later.”

“Very well, sir.” Rekter Cedarson coughed; he wiped the sweat from his palms on his pants legs. “It’s something very—”

“But don’t let me forget! I am, I’ll warn you, quite likely to forget this matter without a reminder, and I’ve not yet had time to schedule an appointment, and so I’d venture to estimate that, without a reminder from you, there is a fifty-eight percent chance I’ll forget to talk to you about this thing, and then I’ll have to go through the bother of scheduling an appointment with you, perhaps only five minutes from now. And you understand what a bother that would be. Let’s avoid it, shall we? And proceed.”

“Sir. It’s very important, what I’ve come to see you about. It’s a personal matter.”

“Gaia save me.”

“I beg your forgiveness in advance, sir. It is, as I said, a personal matter. But it concerns both of us—both of our families, rather. It’s—I don’t know how to say it, but—”

The Hivelord waved him off. “I know; I know. You want to marry my daughter. Fine.”

“Sir, I don’t—”

Rhizome paced. “And that reminds me, and just in time too, of the matter concerning which I almost had to go through the bother of making an appointment with you for. Pardon me for leaving my preposition dangling. It’s uncouth, but my mind is troubled. The thoughts run up against each other, you understand.” Rhizome inhaled.

“You do recall the little thing you recovered from the therion temple south of Lapis?”

“Yes, sir. It seemed to be a computer of some sort.”

“It was not just a computer, Rekter Cedarson. It was much, much, much more than that. Spore—if I can take the liberty of using your given name, which I can, but nevertheless I draw attention to it—Spore, you can marry my daughter. Absolutely you can. But I warn you that she won’t come cheap. Are you prepared to pay for her?”

Rekter Spore Cedarson paled. “Sir, I have not until now cared much for material—”

“I don’t mean credit. I mean service.”

Spore’s eyes flashed. “Service? Yes, sir. Anything, for as long as you require. I love your daughter so much; I know that, no matter how long it takes, the time will seem—”

The Hivelord sighed. “Yes, yes, of course, and so on, and so forth. I don’t know how long this will take. If you do well, your engagement will not be long. I need you to find more of those computers. They’re called constructors. I don’t know how many there are or where they are. I’m delegating that to you. That’s the mark of a true leader: delegation. The pure leader—remember this, Rekter-and-perhaps-future-son-in-law Cedarson, remember this: the pure leader does nothing.”

“Yes, sir. Where do I start?”

“I’ve received reports that a tribesman has been spotted near Alabaster.” Rhizome noticed a change in Spore: a wince, perhaps. “Is there a problem, Rekter Cedarson?”

“No, sir.”

“Does the idea of returning to your hometown unmoor you?”

“Sir, I’m not sure what that means. It’s just that I thought I’d never go back there.”

“Never say never, Rekter Cedarson! That’s what I always say. It’s an ancient contradiction, you see, and therefore brilliant. But put yourself at—never mind that: moor yourself, Rekter Cedarson. You won’t have to be there long. Find this tribesman. He’s referred to as a “salesman,” whatever that means. He goes around giving people things and getting other things in return for them. We are led to believe that he may be in possession of a constructor or know where one is located. Search the town. Interrogate the people. Follow this “salesman” and any other leads you may discover on the way. You will have complete discretion in this operation, which is itself discreet, you understand. I have already assigned an entire phalanx to your command. You will take my personal OPHIS mech. I’ve had the sarx modified so that one does not sit to pilot it. It’s a Repha model and indubitably will render into discrete particles anyone or anything that—”

“But, sir, it’s yours, and I wouldn’t—”

“Nonsense and shuttlecock! Consider it an early wedding present. And let it impress on you the gravity with which I view this task. Do not fail me. Do not leave me without results. If you do, I can assure you that my precious Vine will be engaged to someone else upon your return, and I’ll save you a seat at the wedding.”

Spore swallowed and saluted. “Yes sir. Nothing will stop me.”

Apr
03
Posted by Daniel at 8:31 pm

“Constructor.”

“Yes, Root.”

“Could you make some legs, please?”

The pyramid dimmed. “Object unrecognized: legs.”

Root facepalmed. “Benjamin! She doesn’t know what legs are!”