Tap, tap, tap away to the deadline. It's only a few more months until he's got to present the book, and he's thinking that there might be something off about the new invasion plotline. Maybe it's the aliens. He's not sure. Only half of Cyrodiil has been lit aflame, so maybe it's a problem with storyline balance. If he ends up having to light the ( Read more... )

The smell of roast waterfowl was thick in the air, and somewhere, nearby, someone was making flatcakes. The smell of frying dough thick with oil and sugar wafted across the field that usually belonged to the Earl of Reddingate, along with many other tempting smells - baking apples, meat pies, roasting potatoes and vegetables on skewers, and someone ( Read more... )

On the morning after she gave birth, Amarie Minette Beanique rose before the sun, took a long, warm bath, and put her baby in a straw-woven basket. She covered the child, sleeping, oddly quiet, with the dirty sheets still messy from afterbirth, and then topped that with a clean dress that she took from her closet and rumpled herself. After pulling ( Read more... )