Nice to be back, and I actually have something to post.
Quick synopsis. Anabelle Sturgis is the Special Examiner to the King. She's also a Fire Witch. She's named the fire elemental who keeps her company Flicker. She is investigating the murder of a family member of one of the Fifty (the nobility in this world), a Water Witch who has drowned--an impossibility that puzzles Anabelle. A second murder, that of an Earth Master, has only deepened the mystery. Anabelle is making the Gorhams uncomfortable with her questions, and her brother has asked her to break off her investigation.
A soft sound broke the quiet. Anabelle looked up from her book.
“Mary? Is that you?”
Silence met her question.
Beyond the influence of the firelight and her small reading lamp, the dark house crouched like a waiting beast. Anabelle tried to shake off that fancy. She laid the book on the side table near her chair and stood, moving restlessly to the fireplace where Flicker murmured among the coals.
For no reason she could fathom, her nerves jangled and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.
A sound like a snigger brought her gaze to the black square of doorway opening onto the hall. With unshakeable certainty, she knew someone stood in the hall just beyond the reach of the light, and she knew it wasn’t Mary.
Flicker hissed with a vicious sound that sent a shudder down her spine. Her gaze snapped back to the fireplace. The elemental stretched from the coals, flames shooting out into the room. Within seconds, the elemental had grown to bonfire size. Red flames reached out like claws and looped back upon themselves. In a sinuous movement, the elemental moved out onto the hearth, and the flames towered toward the ceiling. The roar of displaced air assaulted her ears, and a hot wind plastered Anabelle’s skirt against her legs.
“Flicker!” she shouted, and then tried to draw breath in the oxygen-depleted air.
With a howling and crackling that sounded like maniacal laughter, the elemental turned in her direction. Eyes so hot they glittered like diamonds fixed on her. A bright loop of flame snaked out and snagged her wrist.
Pain. Horrible pain like a thousand knife points digging into her flesh---
Anabelle screamed, high and shrill. A sound like drumbeats filled the room, continuing on past her scream.
Flicker let go of her wrist and subsided into the fireplace. Everything went white and dim, both at once. Anabelle put a hand in front of her dazzled eyes as the afterimage of the monstrous elemental haunted her vision.
The drumming sound resolved into a pounding fist on the front door.
“Anabelle!” Jonathon’s voice, pitched to be heard. “For God’s sake! Open the door before I kick it in! Anabelle!”
Giddy with relief at hearing her husband, Anabelle groped her way by memory alone to the front door, guided by the sound of the thunderous knocking. She released the deadbolts and felt Jonathon seize her in his arms.
“My God, Anabelle! Why did you scream? I heard you from out in the street!”
Still unable to see anything but the afterimage of the elemental, she whispered, “Someone is in the house, Jonathon.”
He didn’t waste any more words. She heard him pull a heavy umbrella from the stand near the door, and heard his cautious footsteps moving deeper into the house.
As Jonathon searched the place, gradually Anabelle’s vision returned. She could distinguish the outlines of furniture in the hallway, and the dim light from the sitting room became itself and not part of her dazzlement. Her wrist hurt with unbelievable sharpness.
Anabelle drew a deep breath. She shored up what remained of her courage and moved back into the room on shaky legs. The fireplace did not contain even a vestige of fire. Black and empty, as if no fire had burned there in hours. Except that heat still roiled in waves from the bricks.
Steeling herself, Anabelle held her wrist close to the reading lamp and examined it. An angry red welt encircled the pale flesh like a fresh brand.
“The window in the pantry is open. Whoever it was is gone now,” Jonathon said from behind her.
She turned and he sucked in a breath.
“Is that a burn? Anabelle, what’s going on?”
She blinked at him. “Flicker did it. But it wasn’t Flicker.”
“Flicker did it,” he repeated, shock in his face.
“It looked at me with such evil in its eyes!”
“Wait a minute. Looked at you? Anabelle, you know better than I do that fire elementals don’t have eyes.”
“I know,” she said, forlorn. “That thing wasn’t Flicker, Jonathon. My beautiful fire elemental is gone forever.”
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Friday, February 15, 2008
No Friday Snippet this week.
Sorry, out of town helping my mother-in-law move. I'll be posting one next week, but I'll get around to everyone who posted a snippet this week when I return.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Friday Snippet, February 8, 2008
And this post follows directly from the last one. Sorry, Jess, not a whole lot of action, but there is some good interaction--hopefully.
First draft. Please do not quote or repost anywhere. Thanks!
Quick synopsis. Anabelle Sturgis is the Special Examiner to the King. She's also a Fire Witch. She's named the fire elemental who keeps her company Flicker. She is investigating the murder of a family member of one of the Fifty (the nobility in this world), a Water Witch who has drowned--an impossibility that puzzles Anabelle. She, her ex-husband Jonathon, and Jonathon's brother, Patrick, are attempting to interview Eli Gorham, a Patriarch and father of the murdered Water Witch. Anabelle succeeds in gaining an interview, which doesn't go all that well.
Anabelle seated herself on an uncomfortable settee. The two men settled gingerly on the edge of spindly-legged, brocaded chairs. Now that she had nothing to distract her, Anabelle felt the uneasy grumble from Flicker. She kept her hands and arms prudently away from the fabric of the settee.
“So, how have you been, Jonathon?” Anabelle said at last.
He glowered at her from beneath his thick black brows. “Not eating enough, apparently. I haven’t heard from you in months. I’d like to have a conversation, but not here, and not now, Anabelle. If you would do me the honor of inviting me to the house,” he said with heavy irony.
Anabelle’s lips tightened. “You spent little enough time there when you had the run of the place. Don’t blame me if you no longer feel welcome.”
“If you two are finished sniping at each other, you could call a truce,” Patrick said.
The opening door prevented further conversation along those lines. The butler and another servant came inside.
“His Lordship will see you in the Green Room, Special Examiner. If Sheriff Sturgis and Deputy Sturgis will follow Chartrand, he will assist you in questioning the staff.”
Anabelle followed the butler down the hallway. The Green Room turned out to be a formal affair, decorated as coldly and mausoleum-like as the drawing room. The walls were, indeed, an ugly olive green, and, she supposed, the reason for the name. Eli Gorham, his wife, and a young girl of about fifteen summers sat in the room. Gorham had risen and bowed when the butler had announced her and withdrew.
“Lord and Lady Gorham, Miss Gorham, I thank you for granting me this interview on such short notice.” Anabelle gave them a formal curtsey.
A chilly smile graced Gorham’s face. “Special Examiner. So nice to see manners. One meets so many jumped-up folk in law enforcement these days.”
Anabelle set her teeth at the implied insult, but she said smoothly, “Anabelle, please. I hope to keep this is as painless as possible, my lord.”
“That’s good to hear, Anabelle.” He gestured to nearby seating. “Won’t you sit down?”
She sat down in a chair that could have doubled for a slab of rock. She discreetly surveyed the Gorhams. Lady Mary Gorham had been crying. Her eyes and nose were pink, and her cheeks still blotched. Lord Eli Gorham looked impatient and cold. Miss Elizabeth Gorham’s expression interested Anabelle the most---suppressed excitement, almost glee, as if the girl kept a secret that it pleased her no one else knew.
“First, let me say how sorry I am for Minna’s death. I know this is hard, but to find out what happened to her, I must ask questions. When was the last time any of you saw Minna?”
“My daughter went to bed that night at her usual time,” Gorham said in an acrid voice.
“And that time was…?”
“Eleven o’clock,” he said.
“Did she seem different in any way?” she asked.
Gorham raised a brow. “Different, Anabelle?”
“Upset? Angry?”
Gorham bristled. “What are you implying, Special Examiner?”
Anabelle cocked her head. “Implying, my lord? I’m not implying anything. I’m merely asking after Minna’s state of mind. Anything that might give us a clue as to why she was found in a lake miles away from here in the middle of the night.” With no clothes on. She stopped herself from saying the rest.
Lady Gorham made a soft sound and put a hand to her lips.
Gorham flicked his wife an impatient glance. He turned to pin Anabelle with a hard stare. “Let me make something very clear, Special Examiner. None of us had anything to do with our daughter’s death. She was fine the night she went to bed, and none of us saw or heard anything until one of your people came to our door the next day. I know your type. Pestering us with useless questions while the real perpetrator goes free strikes me as a poor use of your time and my money. Now, unless you have something of interest to relate, please stop upsetting me and my wife and go earn your pay.”
Instant rage blossomed in Anabelle. An uneasy Flicker fueled the emotion until Anabelle felt herself spiral out of control.
“My type?” she said, her voice deadly quiet.
Lady Gorham made an involuntary gesture. Elizabeth Gorham stopped smirking and watched Anabelle with fascination. Gorham paused, apparently having just enough sense to realize he might have made a serious mistake.
When Anabelle continued, she felt as if her words were backed by flames. “My father was just such a man as you---arrogant, hard, unloving. Always sure that he knew best, always ruling his household with an iron fist. Until the day they carted my mother away, and he spent the rest of his miserable life in seclusion, ignoring his own son and daughter as if they didn’t even exist. You and my father could have been twins, Lord Gorham.”
He jumped to his feet, fist clenching. “How dare you speak to me like that!” he snarled.
She stood, feeling the heat emanate from her body, and stared him down. Gorham actually took a step back.
“I am the Special Examiner to the King, and my father was Lord Hollings, Advisor to the former King. I dare.”
She turned and walked out of the room, trying to tamp down on her temper before her clothes, and possibly everything around her, reached incendiary point.
First draft. Please do not quote or repost anywhere. Thanks!
Quick synopsis. Anabelle Sturgis is the Special Examiner to the King. She's also a Fire Witch. She's named the fire elemental who keeps her company Flicker. She is investigating the murder of a family member of one of the Fifty (the nobility in this world), a Water Witch who has drowned--an impossibility that puzzles Anabelle. She, her ex-husband Jonathon, and Jonathon's brother, Patrick, are attempting to interview Eli Gorham, a Patriarch and father of the murdered Water Witch. Anabelle succeeds in gaining an interview, which doesn't go all that well.
Anabelle seated herself on an uncomfortable settee. The two men settled gingerly on the edge of spindly-legged, brocaded chairs. Now that she had nothing to distract her, Anabelle felt the uneasy grumble from Flicker. She kept her hands and arms prudently away from the fabric of the settee.
“So, how have you been, Jonathon?” Anabelle said at last.
He glowered at her from beneath his thick black brows. “Not eating enough, apparently. I haven’t heard from you in months. I’d like to have a conversation, but not here, and not now, Anabelle. If you would do me the honor of inviting me to the house,” he said with heavy irony.
Anabelle’s lips tightened. “You spent little enough time there when you had the run of the place. Don’t blame me if you no longer feel welcome.”
“If you two are finished sniping at each other, you could call a truce,” Patrick said.
The opening door prevented further conversation along those lines. The butler and another servant came inside.
“His Lordship will see you in the Green Room, Special Examiner. If Sheriff Sturgis and Deputy Sturgis will follow Chartrand, he will assist you in questioning the staff.”
Anabelle followed the butler down the hallway. The Green Room turned out to be a formal affair, decorated as coldly and mausoleum-like as the drawing room. The walls were, indeed, an ugly olive green, and, she supposed, the reason for the name. Eli Gorham, his wife, and a young girl of about fifteen summers sat in the room. Gorham had risen and bowed when the butler had announced her and withdrew.
“Lord and Lady Gorham, Miss Gorham, I thank you for granting me this interview on such short notice.” Anabelle gave them a formal curtsey.
A chilly smile graced Gorham’s face. “Special Examiner. So nice to see manners. One meets so many jumped-up folk in law enforcement these days.”
Anabelle set her teeth at the implied insult, but she said smoothly, “Anabelle, please. I hope to keep this is as painless as possible, my lord.”
“That’s good to hear, Anabelle.” He gestured to nearby seating. “Won’t you sit down?”
She sat down in a chair that could have doubled for a slab of rock. She discreetly surveyed the Gorhams. Lady Mary Gorham had been crying. Her eyes and nose were pink, and her cheeks still blotched. Lord Eli Gorham looked impatient and cold. Miss Elizabeth Gorham’s expression interested Anabelle the most---suppressed excitement, almost glee, as if the girl kept a secret that it pleased her no one else knew.
“First, let me say how sorry I am for Minna’s death. I know this is hard, but to find out what happened to her, I must ask questions. When was the last time any of you saw Minna?”
“My daughter went to bed that night at her usual time,” Gorham said in an acrid voice.
“And that time was…?”
“Eleven o’clock,” he said.
“Did she seem different in any way?” she asked.
Gorham raised a brow. “Different, Anabelle?”
“Upset? Angry?”
Gorham bristled. “What are you implying, Special Examiner?”
Anabelle cocked her head. “Implying, my lord? I’m not implying anything. I’m merely asking after Minna’s state of mind. Anything that might give us a clue as to why she was found in a lake miles away from here in the middle of the night.” With no clothes on. She stopped herself from saying the rest.
Lady Gorham made a soft sound and put a hand to her lips.
Gorham flicked his wife an impatient glance. He turned to pin Anabelle with a hard stare. “Let me make something very clear, Special Examiner. None of us had anything to do with our daughter’s death. She was fine the night she went to bed, and none of us saw or heard anything until one of your people came to our door the next day. I know your type. Pestering us with useless questions while the real perpetrator goes free strikes me as a poor use of your time and my money. Now, unless you have something of interest to relate, please stop upsetting me and my wife and go earn your pay.”
Instant rage blossomed in Anabelle. An uneasy Flicker fueled the emotion until Anabelle felt herself spiral out of control.
“My type?” she said, her voice deadly quiet.
Lady Gorham made an involuntary gesture. Elizabeth Gorham stopped smirking and watched Anabelle with fascination. Gorham paused, apparently having just enough sense to realize he might have made a serious mistake.
When Anabelle continued, she felt as if her words were backed by flames. “My father was just such a man as you---arrogant, hard, unloving. Always sure that he knew best, always ruling his household with an iron fist. Until the day they carted my mother away, and he spent the rest of his miserable life in seclusion, ignoring his own son and daughter as if they didn’t even exist. You and my father could have been twins, Lord Gorham.”
He jumped to his feet, fist clenching. “How dare you speak to me like that!” he snarled.
She stood, feeling the heat emanate from her body, and stared him down. Gorham actually took a step back.
“I am the Special Examiner to the King, and my father was Lord Hollings, Advisor to the former King. I dare.”
She turned and walked out of the room, trying to tamp down on her temper before her clothes, and possibly everything around her, reached incendiary point.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Friday Snippet, February 1, 2008
This post follows directly on the last one. Made a couple of name changes. I've already used the name "Frank" for the coroner. So, Frank Sturgis becomes Patrick. John has also become Jonathon--it seems to fit him better.
First draft. Please do not quote or repost anywhere. Thanks!
Quick synopsis. Anabelle Sturgis is the Special Examiner to the King. She's also a Fire Witch. She's named the fire elemental who keeps her company Flicker. She is investigating the murder of a family member of one of the Fifty (the nobility in this world), a Water Witch who has drowned--an impossibility that puzzles Anabelle. She, her ex-husband Jonathon, and Jonathon's brother, Patrick, are attempting to interview Eli Gorham, a Patriarch and father of the murdered Water Witch.
What could only be the head butler hurried toward them—at least, he hurried as much as his dignity would permit.
“Sheriff Sturgis,” the butler said. “We were not expecting your visit.”
“I’m sorry, this isn’t a social call,” Jonathon said. “I have with me Deputy Patrick Sturgis, who will be interviewing the staff, and Special Examiner Anabelle Sturgis.”
And when the butler looked from on to the other, Jonathon added, “It’s a long story. We’re here to see Eli Gorham.”
The butler’s face smoothed of expression, and she could almost hear the refusal trembling on the tip of his tongue. Anabelle moved forward, managing to step on Jonathon’s foot as she did so.
“If His Lordship’s at home, please convey my card and ask if he is available for an interview.”
She handed the butler her card. He examined it, then gave her a respectful nod. “Right away, madam. If you will wait in the drawing room…?”
He led them into a room so formal, so cold, that every piece within it seemed on display, like a museum.
Once the butler left, she turned to Jonathon. “If you want answers, let me do the talking, Jonathon.”
“What did I say?” Jonathon asked, bewildered.
“Jonathon, you’re my brother and I love you dearly, but you can’t talk to the Fifty,” Patrick said. “You’d better let Anabelle deal with Eli Gorham.”
“I didn’t hear her complaining about my communication skills when we lived in the same house,” Jonathon muttered.
She really looked at Jonathon for the first time since she’d spotted him outside. His dark hair still waved back from his forehead in that familiar widow’s peak, and his face looked tired, as if he’d been putting in late nights.
“You’re thinner,” Anabelle said critically.
Jonathon threw up his hands. “How about, ‘it’s nice to see you, Jonathon?’ Or even, ‘how have you been, Jonathon?’ Instead, my eating habits are up for discussion.”
Anabelle looked at Patrick. He shrugged, a little smile tugging at his lips. She sighed. “Cranky as ever, I see. Patrick, you owe me.”
“All I did was introduce you,” Patrick said. “Don’t put me between the two of you.”
First draft. Please do not quote or repost anywhere. Thanks!
Quick synopsis. Anabelle Sturgis is the Special Examiner to the King. She's also a Fire Witch. She's named the fire elemental who keeps her company Flicker. She is investigating the murder of a family member of one of the Fifty (the nobility in this world), a Water Witch who has drowned--an impossibility that puzzles Anabelle. She, her ex-husband Jonathon, and Jonathon's brother, Patrick, are attempting to interview Eli Gorham, a Patriarch and father of the murdered Water Witch.
What could only be the head butler hurried toward them—at least, he hurried as much as his dignity would permit.
“Sheriff Sturgis,” the butler said. “We were not expecting your visit.”
“I’m sorry, this isn’t a social call,” Jonathon said. “I have with me Deputy Patrick Sturgis, who will be interviewing the staff, and Special Examiner Anabelle Sturgis.”
And when the butler looked from on to the other, Jonathon added, “It’s a long story. We’re here to see Eli Gorham.”
The butler’s face smoothed of expression, and she could almost hear the refusal trembling on the tip of his tongue. Anabelle moved forward, managing to step on Jonathon’s foot as she did so.
“If His Lordship’s at home, please convey my card and ask if he is available for an interview.”
She handed the butler her card. He examined it, then gave her a respectful nod. “Right away, madam. If you will wait in the drawing room…?”
He led them into a room so formal, so cold, that every piece within it seemed on display, like a museum.
Once the butler left, she turned to Jonathon. “If you want answers, let me do the talking, Jonathon.”
“What did I say?” Jonathon asked, bewildered.
“Jonathon, you’re my brother and I love you dearly, but you can’t talk to the Fifty,” Patrick said. “You’d better let Anabelle deal with Eli Gorham.”
“I didn’t hear her complaining about my communication skills when we lived in the same house,” Jonathon muttered.
She really looked at Jonathon for the first time since she’d spotted him outside. His dark hair still waved back from his forehead in that familiar widow’s peak, and his face looked tired, as if he’d been putting in late nights.
“You’re thinner,” Anabelle said critically.
Jonathon threw up his hands. “How about, ‘it’s nice to see you, Jonathon?’ Or even, ‘how have you been, Jonathon?’ Instead, my eating habits are up for discussion.”
Anabelle looked at Patrick. He shrugged, a little smile tugging at his lips. She sighed. “Cranky as ever, I see. Patrick, you owe me.”
“All I did was introduce you,” Patrick said. “Don’t put me between the two of you.”
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Friday Snippet, January 25, 2008
I thought I'd go back and post some of the scene from when the drowned Water Witch was found. It closely follows this post.
First draft. Please do not quote or repost anywhere. Thanks!
Quick synopsis. Anabelle Sturgis is the Special Examiner to the King. She's also a Fire Witch. She's named the fire elemental who keeps her company Flicker. She is investigating the murder of a family member of one of the Fifty (the nobility in this world), a Water Witch who has drowned--an impossibility that puzzles Anabelle.
“Do you have any idea who she is, Chief Porter?”
“I do not, Special Examiner. I thought you might.”
Anabelle grimaced where he couldn’t see. He thought the woman was one of the Fifty. So did she, for that matter. Despite the mud and pallor, she could see the well-cared-for nails, the remnants of an expensive haircut. The woman had come from money. Anabelle gave her head a small shake. Once, she would have known all the Fifty by sight, but the younger set – she’d lost touch.
“Chief Porter, it’s best if you and your man step out of range,” she said in a voice with all emotion leached from it.
“What are you going to do?” Porter asked.
Anabelle gave a sharp smile. “Why, question our only witnesses, of course.”
A glance at Porter’s face revealed a great deal. Distaste and speculation warred for prominence. She sighed.
“The woman is, or was, one of the Fifty. It’s best we find out who she is before we have a Patriarch questioning why we failed to note our dead body was his wife, or daughter, wouldn’t you agree?”
Porter blanched at the thought of being questioned by a Patriarch. He quickly turned and motioned to Collins. Both moved off about a hundred paces. Anabelle felt no surprise. The very idea of facing the head of one of the Fify Families of Aponia had been known to turn even the brave pale.
Anabelle opened her bag that sat nearby and extracted a curious device, resembling a circular bowl with a long horn attached. The horn appeared to loop back upon itself. She set the device at her feet, then withdrew a piece of ordinary hardwood. She shook her sleeve, and a bright flame jumped onto her hand and danced inquiringly.
“Flicker, I must ask you to make yourself scarce,” she said in a soft voice. “They will not talk to me if they know you are still here.”
She placed the end of the hardwood on her palm, and Flicker consented by leaping to the end of the piece of wood. She thrust the other end into the ground well away from the water’s edge, satisfied. Flicker would be occupied with the hardwood for hours.
Anabelle picked up the device. She hesitated before wading into the edge of the lake. The cold water in her half boots and the soaked hem of her walking skirt against her legs gave her the shivers. Water and Fire did not mix well.
As soon as she submerged the device into the water, the water elementals surrounded her, eagerly jumping and splashing and bubbling, but avoided touching her. The sheer number of them amazed her. Elementals squirmed and jostled for space. Obviously, she would have no problem coaxing one to speak to her.
An elemental slid into the bowl part of the device. Anabelle immediately lifted the device out of the water.
“Air is life, Water is spirit, Earth is flesh, and Fire is soul,” she said formally.
Both she and the water elemental waited patiently. Anabelle ignored her discomfort as she stood in the chilly lake water. Presently, a troubling in the air rewarded them. The air elemental indicated its willingness to act as intermediary by puffing into her face and entering the horn on the device. The air elemental whistled shrilly through the horn. Anabelle had expected this, so she did not flinch or drop the device.
“Fire Maiden.”
The thin, shrill sound that emerged from the horn brought a glint to her eyes.
“I am here, Water Spirit,” she replied. “What would you say to me?”
“You will restore the balance?”
“I am here to find justice for the Water Maiden,” she said, cautious. Elementals found the concept of justice difficult to grasp—their notions of right and wrong were not human notions.
“The Water Maiden walks distant shores,” the water elemental said. “You must help us.”
She drew a breath. “What must I do?”
“Air and Water and Earth are disturbed. Fire Maiden, the balance must be restored.”
“How?” she asked.
“Find the river of leaping and the water of silence.”
Done with the conversation, the air elemental exited the device with a hissing shriek, leaving the water elemental mute. Not surprised at the air elemental’s capriciousness, Anabelle gently dipped the device beneath the water’s surface and allowed the water elemental to leave. The water elementals rapidly circled her until the current they generated nearly pulled her off balance. As quickly as they began, they fled into the middle of the lake, leaving her alone.
First draft. Please do not quote or repost anywhere. Thanks!
Quick synopsis. Anabelle Sturgis is the Special Examiner to the King. She's also a Fire Witch. She's named the fire elemental who keeps her company Flicker. She is investigating the murder of a family member of one of the Fifty (the nobility in this world), a Water Witch who has drowned--an impossibility that puzzles Anabelle.
“Do you have any idea who she is, Chief Porter?”
“I do not, Special Examiner. I thought you might.”
Anabelle grimaced where he couldn’t see. He thought the woman was one of the Fifty. So did she, for that matter. Despite the mud and pallor, she could see the well-cared-for nails, the remnants of an expensive haircut. The woman had come from money. Anabelle gave her head a small shake. Once, she would have known all the Fifty by sight, but the younger set – she’d lost touch.
“Chief Porter, it’s best if you and your man step out of range,” she said in a voice with all emotion leached from it.
“What are you going to do?” Porter asked.
Anabelle gave a sharp smile. “Why, question our only witnesses, of course.”
A glance at Porter’s face revealed a great deal. Distaste and speculation warred for prominence. She sighed.
“The woman is, or was, one of the Fifty. It’s best we find out who she is before we have a Patriarch questioning why we failed to note our dead body was his wife, or daughter, wouldn’t you agree?”
Porter blanched at the thought of being questioned by a Patriarch. He quickly turned and motioned to Collins. Both moved off about a hundred paces. Anabelle felt no surprise. The very idea of facing the head of one of the Fify Families of Aponia had been known to turn even the brave pale.
Anabelle opened her bag that sat nearby and extracted a curious device, resembling a circular bowl with a long horn attached. The horn appeared to loop back upon itself. She set the device at her feet, then withdrew a piece of ordinary hardwood. She shook her sleeve, and a bright flame jumped onto her hand and danced inquiringly.
“Flicker, I must ask you to make yourself scarce,” she said in a soft voice. “They will not talk to me if they know you are still here.”
She placed the end of the hardwood on her palm, and Flicker consented by leaping to the end of the piece of wood. She thrust the other end into the ground well away from the water’s edge, satisfied. Flicker would be occupied with the hardwood for hours.
Anabelle picked up the device. She hesitated before wading into the edge of the lake. The cold water in her half boots and the soaked hem of her walking skirt against her legs gave her the shivers. Water and Fire did not mix well.
As soon as she submerged the device into the water, the water elementals surrounded her, eagerly jumping and splashing and bubbling, but avoided touching her. The sheer number of them amazed her. Elementals squirmed and jostled for space. Obviously, she would have no problem coaxing one to speak to her.
An elemental slid into the bowl part of the device. Anabelle immediately lifted the device out of the water.
“Air is life, Water is spirit, Earth is flesh, and Fire is soul,” she said formally.
Both she and the water elemental waited patiently. Anabelle ignored her discomfort as she stood in the chilly lake water. Presently, a troubling in the air rewarded them. The air elemental indicated its willingness to act as intermediary by puffing into her face and entering the horn on the device. The air elemental whistled shrilly through the horn. Anabelle had expected this, so she did not flinch or drop the device.
“Fire Maiden.”
The thin, shrill sound that emerged from the horn brought a glint to her eyes.
“I am here, Water Spirit,” she replied. “What would you say to me?”
“You will restore the balance?”
“I am here to find justice for the Water Maiden,” she said, cautious. Elementals found the concept of justice difficult to grasp—their notions of right and wrong were not human notions.
“The Water Maiden walks distant shores,” the water elemental said. “You must help us.”
She drew a breath. “What must I do?”
“Air and Water and Earth are disturbed. Fire Maiden, the balance must be restored.”
“How?” she asked.
“Find the river of leaping and the water of silence.”
Done with the conversation, the air elemental exited the device with a hissing shriek, leaving the water elemental mute. Not surprised at the air elemental’s capriciousness, Anabelle gently dipped the device beneath the water’s surface and allowed the water elemental to leave. The water elementals rapidly circled her until the current they generated nearly pulled her off balance. As quickly as they began, they fled into the middle of the lake, leaving her alone.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Friday Snippet, January 18, 2008
And Friday is here again. Continuing with the story about Special Examiner Anabelle Sturgis. This scene (not the whole scene) follows directly from this post.
First draft. Please do not quote or repost anywhere. Thanks!
Quick synopsis. Anabelle Sturgis is the Special Examiner to the King. She's also a Fire Witch. She's named the fire elemental who keeps her company Flicker. She is investigating the murder of a family member of one of the Fifty (the nobility in this world), a Water Witch who has drowned--an impossibility that puzzles Anabelle. She goes to question Eli Gorham, the victim's father and one of the Fifty.
Gorham Manor, an impressive size, sat against the background of the Lake of Sorrows like a jewel in a fine setting. Anabelle stopped the gig for a moment and took it all in. Her father had been Eli Gorham’s peer—but even he hadn’t owned such magnificence. She supposed her brother Christopher owned Davilar Manor now since Albert Davilar’s death, but she hadn’t been back home since her mother had passed a number of years ago.
Anabelle slapped the reins. She could see a carriage drawn up before the front portico, and two men stood, watching her arrive. Anabelle recognized both of them, and she muttered a word certainly not learned in society’s prim and proper halls. How could she have forgotten this was his jurisdiction?
John Sturgis stepped forward as she pulled her horse to a stop.
“Is it necessary for you to be here when I am?” she said, disgruntled.
He gave her a mocking smile. “Is that any way to greet your husband, Mrs. Sturgis?”
Anabelle gave a sound suspiciously like a sniff, but allowed him to help her from the gig. She watched a couple of Gorham’s stablehands take charge of both vehicles, then turned to extend her hand to the other man.
“Hello, Frank. Nice to see you again,” she said.
Frank Sturgis took her hand and kissed it, a gleam of amusement in his eyes. “Now that had to hurt,” he murmured an aside to John.
“I’m cut to the quick,” John said in a gleeful voice.
“Both of you aren’t fit for polite society, you know that?” Anabelle said.
“We already know we ain’t polite society, love. That’s why Christopher doesn’t talk to you anymore,” John said.
“Thank you so much for reminding me how obnoxious you can be,” Anabelle said sweetly.
He gave an elaborate flourish, and she preceded them into the side hallway.
Bad place! Bad fire!
Anabelle stopped dead in her tracks, astonishment raising her eyebrows.
“What is it, Anabelle?” John asked.
“Flicker doesn’t like this place,” she said in a low voice.
John’s eyebrows raised, too. He knew as well as she that Flicker rarely articulated anything. Fire elementals were rather simple. They burned and consumed, and not much existed for them outside that. Flicker noticing anything about Gorham Manor beyond how many things it could burn concerned her.
"Faces, people," Frank muttered to both of them. "Time for the show."
First draft. Please do not quote or repost anywhere. Thanks!
Quick synopsis. Anabelle Sturgis is the Special Examiner to the King. She's also a Fire Witch. She's named the fire elemental who keeps her company Flicker. She is investigating the murder of a family member of one of the Fifty (the nobility in this world), a Water Witch who has drowned--an impossibility that puzzles Anabelle. She goes to question Eli Gorham, the victim's father and one of the Fifty.
Gorham Manor, an impressive size, sat against the background of the Lake of Sorrows like a jewel in a fine setting. Anabelle stopped the gig for a moment and took it all in. Her father had been Eli Gorham’s peer—but even he hadn’t owned such magnificence. She supposed her brother Christopher owned Davilar Manor now since Albert Davilar’s death, but she hadn’t been back home since her mother had passed a number of years ago.
Anabelle slapped the reins. She could see a carriage drawn up before the front portico, and two men stood, watching her arrive. Anabelle recognized both of them, and she muttered a word certainly not learned in society’s prim and proper halls. How could she have forgotten this was his jurisdiction?
John Sturgis stepped forward as she pulled her horse to a stop.
“Is it necessary for you to be here when I am?” she said, disgruntled.
He gave her a mocking smile. “Is that any way to greet your husband, Mrs. Sturgis?”
Anabelle gave a sound suspiciously like a sniff, but allowed him to help her from the gig. She watched a couple of Gorham’s stablehands take charge of both vehicles, then turned to extend her hand to the other man.
“Hello, Frank. Nice to see you again,” she said.
Frank Sturgis took her hand and kissed it, a gleam of amusement in his eyes. “Now that had to hurt,” he murmured an aside to John.
“I’m cut to the quick,” John said in a gleeful voice.
“Both of you aren’t fit for polite society, you know that?” Anabelle said.
“We already know we ain’t polite society, love. That’s why Christopher doesn’t talk to you anymore,” John said.
“Thank you so much for reminding me how obnoxious you can be,” Anabelle said sweetly.
He gave an elaborate flourish, and she preceded them into the side hallway.
Bad place! Bad fire!
Anabelle stopped dead in her tracks, astonishment raising her eyebrows.
“What is it, Anabelle?” John asked.
“Flicker doesn’t like this place,” she said in a low voice.
John’s eyebrows raised, too. He knew as well as she that Flicker rarely articulated anything. Fire elementals were rather simple. They burned and consumed, and not much existed for them outside that. Flicker noticing anything about Gorham Manor beyond how many things it could burn concerned her.
"Faces, people," Frank muttered to both of them. "Time for the show."
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Friday Snippet, January 11, 2007
Thought I'd snippet something else this Friday for a change of pace. Remember this story? This is about midway between this post and this post.
I'm trading off writing this story along with the Sabri story, to keep my interest and the word count going.
First draft. Please do not quote or repost anywhere. Thanks!
Quick synopsis. Anabelle Sturgis is the Special Examiner to the King. She's also a Fire Witch. She's named the fire elemental who keeps her company Flicker. She is investigating the murder of a family member of one of the Fifty (the nobility in this world), a Water Witch who has drowned--an impossibility that puzzles Anabelle. Her estranged brother, Christopher, comes to see her. Mary is the housekeeper, btw.
“Christopher,” Anabelle said, surprise and wariness in her voice. “To what do I owe this unexpected honor?”
Christopher turned, still holding his hat and walking cane. Anabelle was forcibly struck with how much her brother resembled their father. And he looked highly uncomfortable, too, as well he might. He’d sworn never to step foot in her house.
Mog, her butler, still stood, politely holding out his hand for Christopher’s hat and cane. Christopher gave them up with a muttered apology.
“I’ve come to speak with you on an important matter, Anabelle,” Christopher said. He paused and waited, as if expecting her to know what he meant.
Anabelle raised an eyebrow. “Must it be said in the hall, or can we retire to the sitting room?”
Christopher flushed. She could see he didn’t like to be reminded of the niceties. The task usually fell to him to remind everyone else of the proper method to do things.
Anabelle opened the sitting room door and led the way inside. The dimness of evening had fallen, and Mary had already lit one of the lamps. Anabelle paused to light another by touching the wick. Flicker used a bit more enthusiasm than the elemental usually showed for such a mundane task, and the lamp flared brightly. She turned to see the look of disapproval on her brother’s face.
“What? After all these years, and the King’s favor, I still must hide what I do?” Flicker danced on the end of her finger with impatient moves.
Christopher made a negating gesture. “Can you at least do something with—that? I find it difficult to concentrate while watching it burn anywhere on you.”
Anabelle gave him a level stare for a moment before going to the fireplace and thrusting her hand among the piled wood. With a hiss of satisfaction, Flicker jumped from her hand to the wood and burned with snaps and crackles of joy.
She sat down in her favorite chair before the fireplace and waved impatiently for Christopher to take the one opposite.
“What is it you want, Christopher? And you can dispense with the social chit-chat. We both know you didn’t come here to ask how well I’m getting along.”
Christopher frowned, but said, “Very well. I’ve come to ask you to leave Gorham alone. Failing an understanding on the matter, I’m prepared to bring the matter before the Council of the Fifty.”
Anabelle opened her eyes wide. “That’s having it straight out with no bark on it,” she said in admiration. “I’m proud of you, Christopher.”
He shook his head. “You may think this is a laughing matter, but I can assure you the Council will not. Eli Gorham is an influential and well-respected Patriarch.”
Anabelle’s lips quirked. “You forgot well-connected.”
He glared. “Your levity is misplaced, Anabelle! Questioning him like a criminal about his daughter’s murder is unacceptable.”
Anabelle’s humor fled. Her eyes darkened. “What about his daughter, Christopher? What about Minna Gorham’s murder? Is that unacceptable, too?”
His gaze wavered, and dropped before hers.
“When did we grow so far apart?” she said, musing. “When Mother was still alive--”
An unfortunate thought. Christopher jumped to his feet, fury in his face. Flicker launched from the fireplace and burned a line on the floor straight to her chair with the speed of a striking snake. Anabelle quickly leaned down and let Flicker jump onto her hand.
Christopher moved back, distrustfully eyeing the elemental. “Will you show some sense and leave Gorham in peace?”
“I will find out who killed her, Christopher, no matter who I must question, and no matter who I make uncomfortable. That is my job—this is what the King appointed me to do.”
His face closed. “I’m sorry to find you so resolute. I have delivered my warning and will say no more on the matter.”
“Your threat, you mean.”
His lips tightened. “I bid you good day, Anabelle. No, don’t bother getting up, I’ll see myself out.”
When Christopher had left, Anabelle sat, sunk in memories and regrets until Flicker gave an inquisitive hum. She stirred and sighed, then eyed the scorch line on the rug that stretched from the fireplace to the chair.
“You, my little friend, are death on the budget,” she murmured. “How am I going to tell Mary we need to buy a new rug?”
I'm trading off writing this story along with the Sabri story, to keep my interest and the word count going.
First draft. Please do not quote or repost anywhere. Thanks!
Quick synopsis. Anabelle Sturgis is the Special Examiner to the King. She's also a Fire Witch. She's named the fire elemental who keeps her company Flicker. She is investigating the murder of a family member of one of the Fifty (the nobility in this world), a Water Witch who has drowned--an impossibility that puzzles Anabelle. Her estranged brother, Christopher, comes to see her. Mary is the housekeeper, btw.
“Christopher,” Anabelle said, surprise and wariness in her voice. “To what do I owe this unexpected honor?”
Christopher turned, still holding his hat and walking cane. Anabelle was forcibly struck with how much her brother resembled their father. And he looked highly uncomfortable, too, as well he might. He’d sworn never to step foot in her house.
Mog, her butler, still stood, politely holding out his hand for Christopher’s hat and cane. Christopher gave them up with a muttered apology.
“I’ve come to speak with you on an important matter, Anabelle,” Christopher said. He paused and waited, as if expecting her to know what he meant.
Anabelle raised an eyebrow. “Must it be said in the hall, or can we retire to the sitting room?”
Christopher flushed. She could see he didn’t like to be reminded of the niceties. The task usually fell to him to remind everyone else of the proper method to do things.
Anabelle opened the sitting room door and led the way inside. The dimness of evening had fallen, and Mary had already lit one of the lamps. Anabelle paused to light another by touching the wick. Flicker used a bit more enthusiasm than the elemental usually showed for such a mundane task, and the lamp flared brightly. She turned to see the look of disapproval on her brother’s face.
“What? After all these years, and the King’s favor, I still must hide what I do?” Flicker danced on the end of her finger with impatient moves.
Christopher made a negating gesture. “Can you at least do something with—that? I find it difficult to concentrate while watching it burn anywhere on you.”
Anabelle gave him a level stare for a moment before going to the fireplace and thrusting her hand among the piled wood. With a hiss of satisfaction, Flicker jumped from her hand to the wood and burned with snaps and crackles of joy.
She sat down in her favorite chair before the fireplace and waved impatiently for Christopher to take the one opposite.
“What is it you want, Christopher? And you can dispense with the social chit-chat. We both know you didn’t come here to ask how well I’m getting along.”
Christopher frowned, but said, “Very well. I’ve come to ask you to leave Gorham alone. Failing an understanding on the matter, I’m prepared to bring the matter before the Council of the Fifty.”
Anabelle opened her eyes wide. “That’s having it straight out with no bark on it,” she said in admiration. “I’m proud of you, Christopher.”
He shook his head. “You may think this is a laughing matter, but I can assure you the Council will not. Eli Gorham is an influential and well-respected Patriarch.”
Anabelle’s lips quirked. “You forgot well-connected.”
He glared. “Your levity is misplaced, Anabelle! Questioning him like a criminal about his daughter’s murder is unacceptable.”
Anabelle’s humor fled. Her eyes darkened. “What about his daughter, Christopher? What about Minna Gorham’s murder? Is that unacceptable, too?”
His gaze wavered, and dropped before hers.
“When did we grow so far apart?” she said, musing. “When Mother was still alive--”
An unfortunate thought. Christopher jumped to his feet, fury in his face. Flicker launched from the fireplace and burned a line on the floor straight to her chair with the speed of a striking snake. Anabelle quickly leaned down and let Flicker jump onto her hand.
Christopher moved back, distrustfully eyeing the elemental. “Will you show some sense and leave Gorham in peace?”
“I will find out who killed her, Christopher, no matter who I must question, and no matter who I make uncomfortable. That is my job—this is what the King appointed me to do.”
His face closed. “I’m sorry to find you so resolute. I have delivered my warning and will say no more on the matter.”
“Your threat, you mean.”
His lips tightened. “I bid you good day, Anabelle. No, don’t bother getting up, I’ll see myself out.”
When Christopher had left, Anabelle sat, sunk in memories and regrets until Flicker gave an inquisitive hum. She stirred and sighed, then eyed the scorch line on the rug that stretched from the fireplace to the chair.
“You, my little friend, are death on the budget,” she murmured. “How am I going to tell Mary we need to buy a new rug?”
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