Progress Report

Dancer is done and put aside for later editing.

Kinship is moving along at a very nice clip of about 4k a day.

Farstep Station is well over half edited, at least on paper. I will still have to type all the changes back in, but I'm happy with what I've done so far.

It really has been a busy few weeks. Vision is coming up and that, as always, will drive me nuts. But I'll get there.

(Does that mean I'll get the ezine done or I'll reach crazy? I suspect crazy is more likely before done....)

Today I'm going to snippet the opening to Kinship. Remember that this is first draft stuff -- probably really too slow for the actual opening, but it gave me a chance to get a feel for the characters.

Andora Merceran stopped by the Willow Tree Inn for a cool glass of ale -- and to gather her nerve -- before she took the path leading down into the rest of the village and to home.

Late afternoon cast a glow into the place as she stepped in, though with barely enough light to make a quick study of the roughly square -- and very roughly made -- room. Sparse furnishings sat haphazardly throughout the room, with a bar and hearth at the far end, and something cooking in the pot there that made her stomach growl.

Stairs led up to the rooms for lent above the place, well worn and swept clean. That spoke well for the Willow Tree's general upkeep. A popular place, even at this time day.

She moved cautiously away from the door. Years in Schiwhen had taught her to be careful in strange places -- that along with a knack for the sword and bow. She could see looks of surprise as people noted her clothing -- tunic and pants of plain brown, well-tended chain mail, sword at her side, and her hair bound up beneath a cloth of the same colors as the tunic and pants. She doubted they saw very many women in the dress of a Schiwhen soldier here. Andora remembered only one when she had been growing up -- a woman who had passed through the market on a day Andora had gone with her mother. From that brief moment when the woman stalked past them, hand on sword, and bartered for some food, had come this odd moment in her own life.

If the locals had looked closer, some of them would have recognized one of their own native daughters. The old woman at the bar -- Thea, wasn't it? -- might have remembered the daughter of Rockford's richest merchant. They had called her The Wild One, ten years ago before she ran away to find the sort of adventure a merchant's daughter wasn't likely to find at home.

Andora smiled as she unsheathed her sword and laid it on the table in front of her. She was still wild enough.

"Your order, m'lady?" Thea asked, coming over with a bowed head, though she looked out from beneath her graying bangs to study the oddity that had come in through the door.

"Ale and a bowl of the stew, if it's ready," Andora ordered and marveled at the accent she'd acquired in her years away from home. She hadn't noticed until she heard someone from home speak. "Thank you."

"Thank you, m'lady," Thea said. The woman's eyes stayed on her a moment longer, perhaps seeing something familiar beneath the exotic trappings. Then, realizing she had starred too long, Thea hastily bowed her head and hurried away.

Had Andora removed the scarf that covered her hair and held it back, the locals might have had a better chance at recognition. She had the family's familiar mahogany colored hair, a rather well known trait of the Merceran clan here in a town predominated by ash blonds. However, it suited Andora to remain unrecognized for a little while longer. She wanted peace before she went home, where she knew she would find none.

She positioned the chair near the window, giving her a clear view of the path outside and as well as on her horse. From there she glanced around the room, surprised to find at least two intriguing figures among the dozen current clientele of the place. The first to draw her attention was a dark-skinned curly haired Ashanti man from the far south. He had to be just about as rare as a warrior from Schiwhen in this place. He met her look with a nod of his own, and a slight smile at the irony the of the two creating such a spectacle for the obviously well-entertained locals. Those locals were looking from her to him and back again as though they expected one of them to suddenly disappear. Surely nothing this exciting could happen in Rockford!