Chapter 1 of the novel in its revised setting. Several things require names and expansion, but it's safe for me to move onto the next chapter knowing generally what's been introduced. In general, it needs more flesh on its bones, and better pacing. Also, it is formatted for posting in places where html is acceptable, and I'm not going to fix that right this second.
"Uncle Hector!" She was surprised to see him away from his school. She was even more surprised to see him inside a seamstress' shop. "What are you doing here?"
"I was hoping to give you the good news, but I seem to be a few days late." It wasn't simply good news. It was great news. It was the best news she'd been given for weeks. "Renée will welcome the visit as much as she did your siblings', I'm sure." He was referring to Hera's visit with the Duchess. Even a day's notice would be enough, but she had known about it for a week. She could hardly sleep the nights before. Hera was waiting in the shop for the woman in the back to finish her new gown. It was taking an eternity. Hector wheeled himself towards her from the doorway.
"There's hardly enough room in here for you. You shouldn't try--"
"Hera, I swear, if you tell me there's somewhere I can't go, I will wheel this contraption right over you." He meant it. She had known it too, but that didn't stop her from wanting to help him. Instead of wheeling over her, he wheeled himself up to her. She gave him a hug, and patted him on the shoulders.
"Really, what are you doing here? You're supposed to be teaching children how to stab each other a mile off the ground, you old war bat." She tried moving some things out of his way so he could turn his wheelchair better. It was hard with everything cramped in so tightly.
"He's escaped," said a voice from the doorway. "I've come to make sure it stays that way."
"Uncle Rino!" She ran over to give him a hug too. "Didn't you tell him you gave me the news a week ago?"
"I tried, but you know old war bats. Tell them they should stay on the ground, and they tell you to go to hell. Tell them they don't have to give their students old news, and they run as fast as they can."
"Wheel as fast as they can," Hector said as he turned his chair. He nearly caught himself on a pile of linens. "Honestly, the man has no memory."
Florino looked at him as if he had two heads. "I was there when it happened. I don't think I'll ever forget."
Neither of them were really her uncles, but that didn't matter very much to her. Growing up in the Valence court was like growing up with a very large extended family. Hera' s family had served at their court for generations. She was going to be assigned a role within that great institution that evening. It was a very important meeting, and her usually calm nerves had been fraying. She didn't have any will within her to see them fight. "Don't start anything here. The owner wouldn't like blood in the aisles."
They nodded, but she didn't see a look of acceptance on their faces. She frowned, and picked up a simple blouse from a table. It had all the subtle signs that it was crafted, and not made at a factory. The stitch pattern was the first obvious sign. "Do you think one of my maids would like this?" She turned to see them both stare at her. She layered an illusion over the ship, and it looked covered in a multicolored rose pattern.
"That would impress her, I think," Hector said. She threw the shirt at him, and withdrew the illusion.
"No help at all," she said muttering to herself. She called to the backroom, "Are you going to be all day in there?" The woman emerged with the gown in tow a few minutes later. Hera paid, and they all left the store.
The city of Leanne sprawled out before her. She breathed in a puff of coal fumes mixed with flower scents from a stand across the street. The sky was full of small clouds, and the sun was behind one of them. A few trails of smoke were rising up from the city on the other side of the river. The skyline was full of construction with three new towers being raised. Reds and whites dominated the colors she saw. Hera stopped looking around, and focused on her company as they made their way through the streets.
"So why are you two really here?" she asked them. "I've asked this question twice, and I still haven't gotten a good answer."
"I think you should keep asking it," Hector said. Florino moved behind him, and began pushing the wheelchair. Its sturdy wooden wheels began clacking against the flagstone. "A girl should ask questions." There was hardly anyone in the streets to stop their progress.
"A girl should get some answers." As much as she loved them, she knew neither of them would be with her unless it was important. "This is clearly about my meeting tonight." People moved out of their way as they moved through the streets.
They paused and looked at each other. Florino was the one to start. "Well, things might get more complicated for you than you'd like."
"I like complicated things."
"And that's why you're going to make an excellent protector," Hector said. "Unfortunately, I don't think you will like this. I don't think she has much of a choice, but you're not going to like the situation you're put in."
"Are either of you going to become less cryptic?"
"That would be stepping on our sister's toes, and you know it," Florino said. He was the closer to Renée of the two. "It's up to her to give you your assignment. We just thought you should be prepared to have your heart torn out."
With that they on went their way. Hera walked alone to her family's mansion. Save for the servants and maids she had the house to herself. She was thankful for a few hours silence to prepare herself. She couldn't use her illusions while dining with Duchess Renée. She took offense at anything from her sworn protectors that seemed like a lie aimed at her. Instead, Hera brushed up on her makeup skills. She brought one of the maids into her room, and began her transformation.
The weight of real cloth, and real powder was strange. Her illusions had no weight until she wanted them too, and she often only wore a simple dress underneath them. She felt naked without them even with the weight of her new gown bearing down on her. She exhaled as a maid tied up her back. Breathing would be difficult afterward. She wasn't completely unaware of the problems with real clothing. All of her experiences made her apprehensive. Her father had forced her to do it in every case to help demonstrate how a person in fine clothes should move. It was the first voluntary experience for her. She wanted to cut herself out after two minutes. She imagined a knife parting the red velvet and lavender lace. Finally, she had to admit that she looked nice in it. It was a small consolation.
She dismissed her maid, and began dressing for her part as protector. Duchess Renée was the head of House Valence-Lancea. The house had, in the distant past, been instrumental in helping the greatest mages fight the Great Hunt. Hera's family had been sworn to protect the line perpetually. Hera took her duty very seriously. Her visit with Renée would conclude with her receiving a protection assignment. Her first assignment.
She opened the only locked drawer in her dresser, and pulled out a golden locket. She pushed against its front, and a pin shot out of the bottom. She reached back into the drawer, and pulled out a jar of clear liquid. It smelled sickly sweet when she opened it. She dipped the tip of the pin into it, and drew back the locket's pricking mechanism. A single prick could kill a human within moments if she put it in the right vein. She wrapped its chain around her waist, and made sure it was secure.
She put the jar back into the drawer, and pulled out a slender and curved revolver. It was worked into a necklace at the base. She fastened it behind her hair, and made sure it was hidden from view. She balanced the wide string of quartz pieces, and put a hint of red into them with her magic. She didn't have to completely forgo her magic. She simply couldn't plaster it over herself like a six penny washgirl.
Finally, she pulled two knives from the drawer, and strapped them each to a calf. They were hidden only partially. It was for an intended effect; A protector was always to be known by a slightly unsubtle sign. If it remained unnoticed it was all the better, but better assassins would know who she was. It was a deterrent. Hera had never understood its purpose, but it was an official protocol. She wasn't going to ignore protocol during the first truly important meeting of her life.
She was lost in thought for most of the carriage ride to the palace. She was jolted out of it when the carriage stopped, and she was let out. The palace sat on the top of the higher of the two hills Leanne was nested in, and on the eastern side of the river. [Insert details on palace]
She was lead by a servant through the halls. There was quite a bit of activity as they walked. Thérèse, Renée's oldest chosen daughter, was holding a party for some of her honored soldiers in the ballroom. Trays of food that were carried crossed their path. Hera had to duck out of the way twice. It became harder to move forward consistently.
She was still ahead of schedule judging from the clocks she passed. When she passed Marguerite and Trea in the hallway she had to stop the servant. "Margy, Trevy, I didn't think I'd see you this evening!" She told the servant to go ahead to the next room. They were both huddled over scraps of cloth.
"We were going to go into the city together, but the tailor dropped off samples of the cloth for Florent's suit," Trea said. "Just under a month until I get married, can you believe it?"
"Don't get her hopes up, I have it on good authority that she won't be attending," Marguerite said.
"What?" It was news to Hera. She'd had the invitation locked away for safe keeping for two months already.
"Mother is sending you off to the [Russian analogue (Aserbaja)/China analogue(Ming)] war." Marguerite was the second youngest chosen daughter of Renée. She had been perpetually draped in valence blue silks earlier in life. Hera had noticed her fashion sense starting to improve though. It didn't excuse the gaudy blue gown she was wearing though.
"I like your dress," Hera said, and smirked at her. She turned to Trea, "I promise I will bring the war right here so I can be at your wedding, Trevy. It will be glorious. Florent can fire the cannons, and use his other hand to help cut the cake."
Trea lowered her voice to a whisper. "My Florent is one of the few saner members of the family who don't want to go off to war." She then raised it. "I think you can keep it where it already is, Hera. It can be your wedding gift to me."
"I already got you a nice present! But you're going to want them both now, won't you?"
"I'm going to be so disappointed in you if you don't!" she said before she began laughing. Trea was the daughter, and only child of Lord Andrew a'Thione. Lord Andrew was a good friend of Uncle Rino, and was an honorary protector. The two of them with her father, and Hector had been Hera's teachers. She had spent quite a bit of time with Trea, and because of that she spent quite a bit of time with Margy. Marguerite and Trea were nearly inseparable, and they were very soon to be family by marriage.
"We shouldn't keep her any longer, Trea," Marguerite said as she poured over two different samples. "Mother won't like it if she's late."
She politely ducked out of the conversation, and caught up to the servant. He'd waited patiently, or if he didn't Hera hadn't cared. Things got less busy as they went closer to Renée's private dining room.
When they arrived Hera entered without waiting. She had never been inside the Duchess' own private dining room. It was much different than she had imagined. There were no pictures of airships on the walls. Instead, there were portraits of her ancestors. Hera recognised a few of them, but others were too obscure. She didn't focus on it. The table in the middle was built for two, and it was intimate rather than extended. There were covered platters on the table, but Renée hadn't arrived. Hera sat down in the chair that was to be hers.
The lighting in the room was dim, but Hera knew that it would slowly get brighter. There was a freshly stoked fire in its proper place, and candles on the table. The fire would only get brighter, she thought.
"Are you going to announce my guest?" Renée asked her servant as she walked into the room. She was just older than sixty, but she didn't quite look her age. Her dress was burgundy velvet with golden lace, and it was much larger than her thin frame. Her hair was white and ringed by a silver crown.
"Mistress, you're waited upon by Protector-in-waiting Heracaulquilla of the Lancean vassals, graduate of your extensive and wise training assignments. An illusionist, and a necramancer for the crown." Hera stood, and then bowed after the servant spoke. "Lady Haracaulquilla, you're in the presence of Duchess Renée a'Valence-Lancea, Queen of the Sky, thrice-decorated hero against the insurrections that have plagued our nation." Hera had been told that there were few courts with the same flair for the dramatic. She enjoyed it. The servant left, and the two of them sat down together.
"Thank you for meeting with me, Your Highness." Hera lifted the cover from her platter, and found crayfish baked in a buttery sauce inside. Her mouth began watering almost instantly. "My absolute favorite!"
"It's your mother's favorite as well. I'll never forget the first time she introduced me to them." Hera watched Renée uncover her own platter which was a sweetly brazed pork dish. "Thankfully I've been able to avoid eating them since that day."
Hera shook her head, and cracked one open with her fingers. After she was finished a bite she sopped the butter off her chin with her napkin. Hera's family had a special dispensation to eat however they liked. Not being entirely human had certain downsides in polite company. Her human form could certainly go through all the right motions, but there was no polite way to eat the foods she liked.
"I understand that you've been able to meet with most of my children over the past few weeks. I'd like to hear what you think of them in your own words."
"All of them, or just the ones who don't have protectors yet?" She didn't want to be completely honest about a couple of them. None of them were Renée's children by nature, but she was attached to them in the Valencian way. Family was by choice, and not entirely by birth.
"I'll expect to hear all of them eventually, but you can start with those ones." She was purposely being hard to read as far as Hera could tell. Nevertheless, Hera ordered them in her mind, and began.
Renée had eight sons and daughters claimed as her own. Of them, only three were without a personal guardian. Of those three, Hera had only met with two for long enough to evaluate them. "Richard is a born friend to artists. When I was talking to him he wanted me to use my illusions to help his painter friend. I told him I wasn't that kind of woman, but I did give him a glimpse into my imagination with my magic." Hera wasn't a stranger to performing magic like a pathetic stage magician to amaze her family. She had greatly enjoyed projecting one of her half remembered dreamscapes onto the wall, and how the painter had copied from it. Hera knew she would enjoy Richard's company. He was also the one least likely to be threatened. It would be a good situation all around. "When he isn't helping unknown artists get noticed by the fatter cats of the city, he's . . . not doing anything else. I was surprised to learn that he doesn't do very much."
"Surprised? It's not a secret."
"I thought he was putting on airs. A lot of your children have to do that."
"I had to do it when I was in their position. Now none of my siblings have to put on any acts at all. Once I choose one of them to succeed me, neither will they."
"Hector pretends he's happy."
Renée looked at her as if she had just spilled milk all over the table. "That's for an entirely different reason. He's not angry that he wasn't chosen despite being the oldest. He's had to fight through a lot in his life. He's had forty years to move on with his life. Not that he can do it very fast even if he wanted to."
Hera wasn't sure if she had anything to say to that. Instead, she moved on. "Marguerite is the darling of Leanne's aristocrats. She's gone right into the game they all play, and she's doing very well for someone barely finished her schooling. She has only one close friend, but she doesn't antagonize the cats like the rest." Relations between most of Renée's children and the aristocrats were icy at best. "If it's a contest between her and Florent, I think they would side with Margy. She would give them more, and I think they can see that. I think she's going to be the one you chose."
Renée finished the bite she had in her mouth, and cleared her throat. "I suppose you think you have everything figured out?"
"That is my job isn't it?"
"You believe you're ready to start? I'm not so sure you will be once I tell you who you'll be protecting."
Of the two options, Hera knew instantly which one she would be assigned to. "I'm sure Marguerite and I will have a lovely time together."
"No, Hera, it's not Marguerite. I don't think you're quite ready for her. I'm assigning you to Emma."
Hera suddenly wished she had waited until the end of dinner to talk about it. Her appetite left her near instantly, and she had a lot to eat. It wasn't that Emma was a bad person to be assigned. It was that Emma was halfway across the world. She was going to miss the wedding. She was going to be away from her family for a long time.
Hera made polite conversation as best she could for the rest of the dinner. She wanted to show that she wasn't tremendously disappointed, but it was difficult. Both her mother and father had told her one thing about the Queen of the Sky; She didn't change her mind once it was set. Hera worked her way through the dinner, and the rest of her night was a blur as she made her way back to her room.
[expand the conversation]
In the morning she started packing. She had her assignment. She had to get to it.
In general, I'd like to know if any of you feel if I'm introducing too many characters too quickly, and if the names get confusing. I like using nicknames in both Hera's dialogue, and thought processes. If you have to read it twice over to understand who is doing what though, it means I am not quite doing my job. Well, if it happens too often, anyway.
Now I am off to make some kind of blurb.
Author
Topic: The Spider's Crown (early draft) (Read 1657 times)