Cosmic Geoff
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- Jun 14, 2012
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Here’s another version of the opening of the second novel in my “Plain Girl’s Earrings” trilogy. I wasn’t too happy with the opening (nor were some critics) and I toyed with the idea of writing a completely different opening. For the moment, I have tried some more modest changes; cutting three of the five main characters (they turn up later), and making minor changes to make things clearer for readers who come to the second book cold. Other small changes are made in an effort to increase tension.
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Chapter 1
On the flat horizon, Starsin saw a new thing. As he rode closer, it raised itself out of the cultivated plain and became a city wall. His red-haired companion, Lannaira, confirmed that this was the wall of Chazu.
Starsin, a refugee and former noble, hoped to find friends and supporters in this place. While in the hands of the slavers, he had fervently wished that he was in Chazu, and now its walls were taking shape before his eyes. He wondered if he was less likely to be murdered here than anywhere else. More immediatly, he hoped to find a decent inn and re-unite with his three other companions of the road.
Closer to, the wall was a substantial construction, with the customary crenellations on the parapet, and regularly spaced defensive towers. Some way inside the city, three slim towers with shafts of a startling turquoise blue soared into the sky. A large object, a kind of kite, waved above the top of each.
Ahead was some delay, a congestion of people and carts. Starsin felt a clutch of unease. There would be a check at the city gate. Very soon he would discover how much information the Virnal spies might have forwarded about him.
“There’s a moat,” Starsin remarked, on seeing a glint of water close ahead, under the wall. Lannaira did not reply to this effort at small-talk.
The road crossed the moat by a permanent bridge of wood. A double-arched gateway divided the road under a squat stone tower; part of Chazu's outer defensive wall.
Lannaira kneed her animal to close up with Starsin. “Let me do the talking here.”
Voices shouted, urging the travellers forward. Carts creaked into motion.
The hooves of their mounts, six-legged timalts, drummed on the planks of the bridge. These creatures, looking like small elongated horses, were as ubiquitous here as elsewhere on his travels.
After a cursory exchange with the guards, they rode out of the long, shadowy gateway into the sunlight and noise of the city road.
Starsin looked around him. He had not expected to see open spaces within the city, where plots of vegetable crops adjoined low buildings, and where water trickled in ditches. Mean buildings were to one side and ahead. Beyond them rose the shining domed roofs of palaces and temples in the middle distance.
Behind them, he heard a creaking and groaning of timbers. The gates were closing, shutting out a last bright, small view of the great plain. Even as Starsin looked back, wondering if they should make a dash to get outside, he saw that a line of soldiers was blocking the gateway with readied pikes that shone in the sun. It was too late.
"I hope that's nothing to do with us," said Lannaira.
A clutch of unease gripped Starsin's stomach. Without discussion, both of them increased their pace away from the gate.
“What’s that?” Lannaira pointed toward a column of smoke drifting from an open plot. She urged her timalt towards it. Starsin felt obliged to follow the red-haired adventuress. At a line of flags on cord which barred their way, she stopped, dismounted and ducked under it.
“Lannaira? Shouldn’t we just get away from here?” He could still see the line of soldiers, behind a straggle of people on the city road. He dismounted and ducked under the line of flags.
He still could not see what was burning. It was as if the smoke came out of the ground. He felt a sharp, unhealthy odour tickle his nose. "What, it's one of those things? And inside the city?"
“It is,” Lannaira said. “I can’t pass this by.”
The depression was three feet across, crusted and black, and in the middle hot cinders glowed and smoked. Down a crack yellow heat sparkled. There was a mixed smell of burnt organics and hot mineral. Lannaira fumbled in her jacket and pulled out a crumpled paper. She ran her finger down the text, then, pointing at the hole, began to read from the paper. The words made no sense to Starsin.
What is she doing? Saying a prayer? Quoting some ancient poem? No, she must be trying to discover something about the burning-pit. Lannaira was a self-made expert in ancient objects and ancient texts, and they both suspected that the burning pits were something to do with the ancients. He had encountered them outside his home city, Calah.
She was ignoring him. Whatever it was she was trying to do, she would not thank him for disturbing her concentration. He glanced toward the line of soldiers. No reaction there, and nobody else was paying them much attention.
A shouting came from behind him. He turned, to see a man with a staff and badge crossing the strung line of flags. The newcomer was robed, face twisted in determination, and strode forward in an officious manner.
Oh, damn. Starsin’s guts cramped with anxiety. He forced himself to stand still and meet the eye of the shouter as he approached.
"What's the problem, my man?"
"What was that woman doing? Is she rousing the burning-pit by sorcery?" The man sounded angry, his face flushing.
Starsin didn't answer directly. "And who might you be, sirrah? Your office?"
"I am an official of the Chazu Holy Militia!" the man gasped.
"And is there something wrong with your wits, sir?" Starsin said, in a cultivated tone.
The man gaped.
"The thing has clearly been here a while, else why the flags? We however have just arrived in the city and were indulging our curiosity."
"What was the woman doing, then, Master?" the militiaman asked in a lower tone.
"How should I know what women do, sir? She thinks the smoke lucky, perhaps? Reciting a prayer against harm? It's of no concern."
Lannaira, to Starsin’s relief, had desisted, hidden the paper, and was looking at the sky.
"You should not cross the flag barriers," the militiaman said. "These pits are created by deadly sorcery!"
"For that we apologise," Starsin said. "We did not think it would trouble anybody save ourselves."
"Please be about your business, Master. And respect our laws and customs," the militiaman said. He stepped back and held up the line of flags.
They returned to the street, in silence. They moved on, till the militiaman was out of hearing.
Starsin was sweating and his heart was pounding. The last thing he wanted to do was attract the attention of any of the authorities here, but he had challenged the man without thinking. He took several deep breaths to calm himself.
Lannaira tugged at his sleeve. "Thanks for that! I didn’t know you were that good. The lordly accent! The supercilious manner! I'd never have dared talk to a mazu militiaman quite like that! And there was no way I’d show him that paper. But how -?"
"I had to do something. And don't thank me - jumped-up little men annoy me. But what were you doing, Lanna?" He looked into her startling blue eyes. She was as tall as he was. Her skin had faint lines, especially around the eyes, and she had a prominent nose, reddened by the sun.
"I was trying to use some control-words on the burning-pit."
"Hah? I didn't -". Starsin was aware that the burning-pits were something in which Lannaira and her acquaintances took a serious interest, but talk of control-words was beyond him.
"I'll explain later; it's too public here."
"All right."
--------------------------
Chapter 1
On the flat horizon, Starsin saw a new thing. As he rode closer, it raised itself out of the cultivated plain and became a city wall. His red-haired companion, Lannaira, confirmed that this was the wall of Chazu.
Starsin, a refugee and former noble, hoped to find friends and supporters in this place. While in the hands of the slavers, he had fervently wished that he was in Chazu, and now its walls were taking shape before his eyes. He wondered if he was less likely to be murdered here than anywhere else. More immediatly, he hoped to find a decent inn and re-unite with his three other companions of the road.
Closer to, the wall was a substantial construction, with the customary crenellations on the parapet, and regularly spaced defensive towers. Some way inside the city, three slim towers with shafts of a startling turquoise blue soared into the sky. A large object, a kind of kite, waved above the top of each.
Ahead was some delay, a congestion of people and carts. Starsin felt a clutch of unease. There would be a check at the city gate. Very soon he would discover how much information the Virnal spies might have forwarded about him.
“There’s a moat,” Starsin remarked, on seeing a glint of water close ahead, under the wall. Lannaira did not reply to this effort at small-talk.
The road crossed the moat by a permanent bridge of wood. A double-arched gateway divided the road under a squat stone tower; part of Chazu's outer defensive wall.
Lannaira kneed her animal to close up with Starsin. “Let me do the talking here.”
Voices shouted, urging the travellers forward. Carts creaked into motion.
The hooves of their mounts, six-legged timalts, drummed on the planks of the bridge. These creatures, looking like small elongated horses, were as ubiquitous here as elsewhere on his travels.
After a cursory exchange with the guards, they rode out of the long, shadowy gateway into the sunlight and noise of the city road.
Starsin looked around him. He had not expected to see open spaces within the city, where plots of vegetable crops adjoined low buildings, and where water trickled in ditches. Mean buildings were to one side and ahead. Beyond them rose the shining domed roofs of palaces and temples in the middle distance.
Behind them, he heard a creaking and groaning of timbers. The gates were closing, shutting out a last bright, small view of the great plain. Even as Starsin looked back, wondering if they should make a dash to get outside, he saw that a line of soldiers was blocking the gateway with readied pikes that shone in the sun. It was too late.
"I hope that's nothing to do with us," said Lannaira.
A clutch of unease gripped Starsin's stomach. Without discussion, both of them increased their pace away from the gate.
“What’s that?” Lannaira pointed toward a column of smoke drifting from an open plot. She urged her timalt towards it. Starsin felt obliged to follow the red-haired adventuress. At a line of flags on cord which barred their way, she stopped, dismounted and ducked under it.
“Lannaira? Shouldn’t we just get away from here?” He could still see the line of soldiers, behind a straggle of people on the city road. He dismounted and ducked under the line of flags.
He still could not see what was burning. It was as if the smoke came out of the ground. He felt a sharp, unhealthy odour tickle his nose. "What, it's one of those things? And inside the city?"
“It is,” Lannaira said. “I can’t pass this by.”
The depression was three feet across, crusted and black, and in the middle hot cinders glowed and smoked. Down a crack yellow heat sparkled. There was a mixed smell of burnt organics and hot mineral. Lannaira fumbled in her jacket and pulled out a crumpled paper. She ran her finger down the text, then, pointing at the hole, began to read from the paper. The words made no sense to Starsin.
What is she doing? Saying a prayer? Quoting some ancient poem? No, she must be trying to discover something about the burning-pit. Lannaira was a self-made expert in ancient objects and ancient texts, and they both suspected that the burning pits were something to do with the ancients. He had encountered them outside his home city, Calah.
She was ignoring him. Whatever it was she was trying to do, she would not thank him for disturbing her concentration. He glanced toward the line of soldiers. No reaction there, and nobody else was paying them much attention.
A shouting came from behind him. He turned, to see a man with a staff and badge crossing the strung line of flags. The newcomer was robed, face twisted in determination, and strode forward in an officious manner.
Oh, damn. Starsin’s guts cramped with anxiety. He forced himself to stand still and meet the eye of the shouter as he approached.
"What's the problem, my man?"
"What was that woman doing? Is she rousing the burning-pit by sorcery?" The man sounded angry, his face flushing.
Starsin didn't answer directly. "And who might you be, sirrah? Your office?"
"I am an official of the Chazu Holy Militia!" the man gasped.
"And is there something wrong with your wits, sir?" Starsin said, in a cultivated tone.
The man gaped.
"The thing has clearly been here a while, else why the flags? We however have just arrived in the city and were indulging our curiosity."
"What was the woman doing, then, Master?" the militiaman asked in a lower tone.
"How should I know what women do, sir? She thinks the smoke lucky, perhaps? Reciting a prayer against harm? It's of no concern."
Lannaira, to Starsin’s relief, had desisted, hidden the paper, and was looking at the sky.
"You should not cross the flag barriers," the militiaman said. "These pits are created by deadly sorcery!"
"For that we apologise," Starsin said. "We did not think it would trouble anybody save ourselves."
"Please be about your business, Master. And respect our laws and customs," the militiaman said. He stepped back and held up the line of flags.
They returned to the street, in silence. They moved on, till the militiaman was out of hearing.
Starsin was sweating and his heart was pounding. The last thing he wanted to do was attract the attention of any of the authorities here, but he had challenged the man without thinking. He took several deep breaths to calm himself.
Lannaira tugged at his sleeve. "Thanks for that! I didn’t know you were that good. The lordly accent! The supercilious manner! I'd never have dared talk to a mazu militiaman quite like that! And there was no way I’d show him that paper. But how -?"
"I had to do something. And don't thank me - jumped-up little men annoy me. But what were you doing, Lanna?" He looked into her startling blue eyes. She was as tall as he was. Her skin had faint lines, especially around the eyes, and she had a prominent nose, reddened by the sun.
"I was trying to use some control-words on the burning-pit."
"Hah? I didn't -". Starsin was aware that the burning-pits were something in which Lannaira and her acquaintances took a serious interest, but talk of control-words was beyond him.
"I'll explain later; it's too public here."
"All right."
I know you're trying to intimate a break from a monotonous landscape, but also remember that you state, just after, how eager Starsin was to reach this city. Why doesn't that enthusiasm start at the first sentence?
