Archive | March 2020

Purchase Negotiation 36 – Harriman Hall

First: Purchased: Negotiation

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The girl in the ridiculous outfit was turning slowly around, pointing as she explained that she had tried everything.  “-but nothing seems to be Harriman Hall…?”

“Oh, sure, it’s right over here.”  Sylviane gestured behind her, directing the girl towards a little alleyway between the buildings.  The girl wasn’t getting it; she repeated Sylviane’s directions back to her, but she had them all wrong.  “Okay, why don’t we walk you there, how’s that?”

The girl shot a nervous look at Leander.  He knew that expression; he was not a small guy, and he could seem a little threatening.  He took a step back and held up his hands.  

Sylviane, however, was having none of that, which was useful, he supposed, since he couldn’t really leave her and following thirty feet behind would only be creepier.  “What? He’s my boyfriend.” She took one of Leander’s hands. “He’s a sweetheart, I assure you.  Now, if you want to get to Harriman, you pretty much either need to go this way -” She started walking; Leander followed, of course.  After a moment, so did the girl.  Continue reading

Saving the Cult (if not the World), Chapter Ten

Saving the Cult (If not the World) "It's time." Manfield Lee knew he was good at sounding authoritative even when he didn't know what he was talking about - he'd turned a fortune into a megafortune doing just that, after all, not to mention running the Organization - but right now, he DID know what he was talking about. After all, it was just a date, wasn't it? And if the date turned out to be wrong, well, then he knew exactly what to blame it on, and that blame would fall on the scholars and the psychics, not on him. The other thing Manfield Lee knew how to do was to place the blame in very specific ways that were not him.

“Lina.  Lina.” A hand waved in front of her face. “Catalina?”

She blinked.  Jackson had a hand on her back and a hand in front of her face.  Her hands — her hands were on Dylan and Ethan’s necks.  And down in the gorge, the whole place was glowing blue. 

“What—”  She stared.  “Did—”

“You got everyone safe.  Separated. And down on the ground.  Might have gotten a couple broken arms while you figured it out, but a broken bone is a lot better than — well, than what was happening.”

“I don’t have that sort of power!” Continue reading

A Story for B, Chapter 3 (Malina and the Border Banners)

Began here.

Chapter 2 here

Malina, who was a Princess of a very long name and had until very recently been lost in the desert, regarded the castle before her. She looked over the door hanging off its hinges; she looked at the lovely, ornate doorframe.

She took a breath. She’d come this far, let the cat and the mustang lead her. She was letting the cat rush her. She was still lost in the borderlands, even if she now had a destination.

She held her breath and stepped forward through the doorway, moving the door aside.

The door moved slowly under her hand, the bottom corner dragging in the sand. Malina glanced at the cat, who was walking very close to her, and then pushed the door again.

She made it through the doorway; the door was far easier to urge back closed than it had been to open. She latched it, feeling silly – there was nobody around, for one, and for another, it was still missing a hinge & only half connected to the other.

Still, she felt better for having it shut and latched.

“The tower.”  Continue reading

Thimbleful Thursday – Have a Heart

The Kaerdenia Lily was the symbol of love in Alecha this century, after Dominika O Kaerdenia had, in a feat of crossbreeding, produced the blood-red blossoms with their pure white centers which symbolized both the body and the spirit. 

It said something about the strength of the symbol that, while Dominika had also managed to produce a drought- and pest-tolerant strain of amaranth which still made delicious breads, she was known as Dominika Lily and not Dominika Amaranth (maybe it was just prettier sounding; sometimes that had something to do with it). 

Eduardo the carver (often called Eduardo Fern-Frond) was doing his best to make a gift on commission, but while he could carve a fern-frond so realistic and so fine that, if painted the right color, people tried to pick it up, the lily had already ruined three pieces of imported wood and was threatening to ruin a fourth and fifth. 

He kept going. The mayor of the city had a specific piece in mind, and it must have the Kaerdenia Lily on the top, and it must  be made of heartwood (of course) and not just any heartwood, but that of the Kaerdenia Cherry (A different Kaerdenia ; they were very good at plant-breeding), which could only be found in a very few areas. 

These mistakes, if he could not turn them into smaller pieces, if he could not sell those smaller pieces, would cost him more than the mayor’s commission was worth.

Eduardo frowned at the piece, frowned at the lilies in front of him, picked up his pencil, and began working again. 

If he took the lily down to its parts, one lobe here, one lobe there, the place there where the white would be made from ivory, then he took each lobe down to its parts, the curl here, the vein there, then he could work at it as if it were a series of very small frond pieces.  And if he did that, if he did that, he could make up a whole Love-Lily from a thousand tiny parts. 

If he did that, the mayor would have her love box, would have her love, would have everything she wanted. 

The frown gone, Eduardo got back to work.

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Written to a Thimbleful Thursday prompt & to my Federated Worldbuilding Prompt which was “use the Thimbleful Prompt to write something in your world.” 😉

Want more?

A Blog Post: On Being Sick, on Working From Home, Etc.

Two notes:  

First, I started this, like, 2 weeks ago.  But I still want to post it, so, voila, here it is. I’m feeling better health-wise, which is great. (Though our furnace is on the fritz now). 

Keep an eye on my Patreon for the March Patreon Push, which is going to involve, well, more stories on Patreon.  Also check out the Leap Day stories I posted there – and as always, you can find fiction on my account at https://ping.the-planet.space/@aldersprig.

 Second, Thank You Kelkyag!  Kelkyag sent me a lovely little kids’ book called The Trouble With Chickens.

(So, should I  make The Chickens Era Science an option on the upcoming poll for this month’s Patreon Theme?)

(Yeah, I’m a little behind. Story of my life.)

Now continues the actual blog post, voila.

~*~~*~~*~ Continue reading

The Bellamy, Chapter 8

Severn Herrley sent Veronika on her way with the corn husk doll carefully packed up, as if it were going to be shipped.  She’d also sent her with a small tray of vegetables and hummus. 

“Everyone seems to want to feed me,” she’d muttered, even though it had only been the two so far, not counting Sylvester, whose job it presumably was to want to feed her. 

“It’s a good sign.  It means we like you.”  Severn had patted her on the back heavily enough to send her a few steps forward and had given her tips on her next destination. 

Of course, as she trundled her little cart away from Ancient Acquisitions, Veronika was wondering what happened when an archivist didn’t like her. 

She amused herself thinking of possibilities — from a very firm snubbing, to sending her in the wrong direction for the next department, to taking her things from her instead of giving her food, to making her part of a display. 

Maybe, she mused darkly, that was what happened to those who didn’t make it through their first day; maybe there was a department somewhere with row upon row of “failed Bellamy archivists” behind glass, modeling wigs like Alice. Continue reading