Friday Snippet Meme
As promised, here's the next installment of Stain of Corruption. I still haven't figured out how to put all the official meme stuff into the blog with confidence - I do NOT want to fry all my data again - so please see the primary list and other meme info over at Holly's Blog. This scene began last week, so you may want to read that bit first. :)
**The following excerpt is first draft narrative, likely full of errors, and many changes are yet to come. Please do not quote or assume this is final text. All words are ©2007, Tamara Siler Jones, all rights reserved.**
Stain of Corruption
Chapter 1
Scene 2, Part 2
The largest suite in the castle was dark and silent, the only apparent light spilling in from the hall behind them. Their long, distorted shadows reached into the dark, blanketing everything but irregular patches of carpeting and bits of broken ceramic. Dubric detected no foul scent, no blood or exposed brain, merely a hint of sweat and old man. Despite the sticky summer night, Dubric shivered.
"Nigel?" He called out, expecting no answer. "Where are you?" A slight flick of his hand sent Lars's shadow away to Dubric's left, melting into the impenetrable dark. He felt the boy pause; Lars made no sound save the faint whisper of his exhales. His presence soon moved forward and faded from Dubric's awareness.
Dubric took a steadying breath and let it out before calling Brushgar's name again. While he stood at the door he remained a visible target for any intruders, hopefully granting Lars an opportunity to search without being seen, but the suite was too quiet, the air too clean.
Dubric counted to twenty then called out, "Have you found anything?"
A lengthy pause, then Lars replied, "No, sir. Just clothing and things on the floor, some overturned furniture. I think we're alone."
Dubric lit a lamp and closed the door, frowning at the ransacked mess scattered across the carpeted hall. Fragile figurines, many from the age of the ancients, lay shattered among contraptions of corroded brass and steel that had been flung from a wood and glass cabinet, the door half ripped from its hinges but its pane unbroken. Nigel had possessed a passion for antiquities, especially those with gears and other moving parts, and kept his most prized trinkets on display behind glass. Countless crowns worth of artifacts lay discarded or broken on the floor as if they held no more worth than a dented tin cup, yet others just as precious remained in their carefully tended perches, safe behind their glass doors.
Why the one cabinet? Why leave so many things untouched? Lamp in hand, Dubric examined the cabinet latch, but it showed no sign of being forced. There were no marks from a pry bar, no scrapes along the surface of the lock. And the glass door had not been shattered. Curious, he pulled on the door of a nearby cabinet and found it locked. As was the next, and the next.
Did Nigel do this or did someone pilfer his keys? Dubric thought as he strode further into the suite, giving each room a cursory search before moving on. He found no blood or sign of struggle, merely an occasional cabinet or drawer torn open and its contents flung asunder, or a bit of furniture shoved aside. Of the fourteen rooms, all but five appeared untouched save for the clutter common to the suite. Nigel was not known for his neatness. One hard working maid's sole duty wast to tidy up his perpetual mess, a task she had spent a lifetime pursuing alone, as had her mother before her. No one else had proven able to endure Nigel's tantrums and filth.
At last Josceline will have a rest, Dubric thought.
***
The scene continues next week! Stay tuned!
**The following excerpt is first draft narrative, likely full of errors, and many changes are yet to come. Please do not quote or assume this is final text. All words are ©2007, Tamara Siler Jones, all rights reserved.**
Stain of Corruption
Chapter 1
Scene 2, Part 2
The largest suite in the castle was dark and silent, the only apparent light spilling in from the hall behind them. Their long, distorted shadows reached into the dark, blanketing everything but irregular patches of carpeting and bits of broken ceramic. Dubric detected no foul scent, no blood or exposed brain, merely a hint of sweat and old man. Despite the sticky summer night, Dubric shivered.
"Nigel?" He called out, expecting no answer. "Where are you?" A slight flick of his hand sent Lars's shadow away to Dubric's left, melting into the impenetrable dark. He felt the boy pause; Lars made no sound save the faint whisper of his exhales. His presence soon moved forward and faded from Dubric's awareness.
Dubric took a steadying breath and let it out before calling Brushgar's name again. While he stood at the door he remained a visible target for any intruders, hopefully granting Lars an opportunity to search without being seen, but the suite was too quiet, the air too clean.
Dubric counted to twenty then called out, "Have you found anything?"
A lengthy pause, then Lars replied, "No, sir. Just clothing and things on the floor, some overturned furniture. I think we're alone."
Dubric lit a lamp and closed the door, frowning at the ransacked mess scattered across the carpeted hall. Fragile figurines, many from the age of the ancients, lay shattered among contraptions of corroded brass and steel that had been flung from a wood and glass cabinet, the door half ripped from its hinges but its pane unbroken. Nigel had possessed a passion for antiquities, especially those with gears and other moving parts, and kept his most prized trinkets on display behind glass. Countless crowns worth of artifacts lay discarded or broken on the floor as if they held no more worth than a dented tin cup, yet others just as precious remained in their carefully tended perches, safe behind their glass doors.
Why the one cabinet? Why leave so many things untouched? Lamp in hand, Dubric examined the cabinet latch, but it showed no sign of being forced. There were no marks from a pry bar, no scrapes along the surface of the lock. And the glass door had not been shattered. Curious, he pulled on the door of a nearby cabinet and found it locked. As was the next, and the next.
Did Nigel do this or did someone pilfer his keys? Dubric thought as he strode further into the suite, giving each room a cursory search before moving on. He found no blood or sign of struggle, merely an occasional cabinet or drawer torn open and its contents flung asunder, or a bit of furniture shoved aside. Of the fourteen rooms, all but five appeared untouched save for the clutter common to the suite. Nigel was not known for his neatness. One hard working maid's sole duty wast to tidy up his perpetual mess, a task she had spent a lifetime pursuing alone, as had her mother before her. No one else had proven able to endure Nigel's tantrums and filth.
At last Josceline will have a rest, Dubric thought.
***
The scene continues next week! Stay tuned!