Earthbow V.1 - Sample Extract
Earthbow Volume 1
Extract 1
“I better get back before Riptis passes through,” Coris said. He stared through the fiery cimris tree leaves but saw no movement over by the gate. A soft thump and the creak of a rope sounded from a few feet away, followed by a squelching sound and the renewed stench of blood and entrails. He turned back.
Glisa yanked her knife free from the swaying ragos. She shook guts from her hand and wrist and shifted toward the next furred body dangling from a branch covered with stains and buzzing insects. Lifting each shoulder in turn, she tried to shove the loosening braid of her reddish-brown hair back behind her shoulders. The scullery maid lifted her knife, then paused to smile at him. “Why so anxious? Are we under attack?”
Coris shrugged. “One of Sevris’ servants is loitering over by the gate and I’d better find out why. I’m responsible for this part of the courtyard. If my captain...”
“Sir knight.” She jabbed at the last corpse with a grunt. “You take your job too seriously! Lord Cenoc and the keep-master are friends. All rulers are.”
Coris snorted. “Friends! Glisa, you ... innocent!”
Glisa straightened from the bucket in which she had been washing her hands and the butcher knife. “Oh, am I? How old are you, Coris? Twenty?”
“Twenty-seven.” Coris felt his face redden. He cursed his fair-haired family. ‘Uh, in a few months.”
The woman chuckled.
Coris shrugged, and plunged into speech before she could add more. “My overlord trusts no one. Many envy his rise to power and he needs to know who. That’s why he’s traveling all over Latimus: to find out where pockets of resentment lay. There’s no reason why he and the keep-master should be friends.”
He untied another ragos and tossed it unto the waiting canvas next to the blue-gray boll of the tree’s trunk. His sticky fingers made him regret his unthinking impulse to help. Well, too late now. What had he been saying?
“Sevris is of the old nobility, so he probably wants the old order to regain power. What better time to accomplish that, than today during a hunt? A chance arrow...” Hopefully not. Why had he spoken such a thought aloud? Not that spoken thoughts became deeds…
Glisa was nodding. She looked vexed. Well, he had said enough. He reached down and swished his hands in the bloody water. Probably making the mess worse.
“I know all that, Coris, even if I am only a kitchen wench.”
Coris snorted. “Hardly a wench!” He offered the protest with as much outer conviction as he could manage.
Glisa smiled. “I’ve been called far worse.” Her dark eyes indicated movement inside the scullery door--Tabistis, the master cook, his back to them lighting the meat ovens. “Tell me, Coris. Who were you quoting just then?”
“Who was I?” He shrugged. “Oh, Riptis. Captain of Cenoc’s personal guard.”
“Um. And how long have you been one of Cenoc’s guards?”
“I’ve been training in his service for years of course but I was just named to his personal guard. It was-”
“A great honor, no doubt.”
Coris glared at her, but resisted the urge to slap her. Did she understand nothing, to make so light of it? “Yes, a great honor. When I was knighted last month, I expected to serve at Talon Keep near my family’s ancestral lands, but then Cenoc commanded that I be sent to him. I never guessed my arms master… I mean, I just joined the royal progress a few miles north of here, at Empsa Keep.”
Glisa gave another impatient nod. “At which time this Riptis explained Latimin politics to you, and told you that you should be proud to wear the Screeching Hawk.”
“I am proud of it!” Coris drew himself up to his full five foot ten height. “The captain was my father’s friend, but Lord Cenoc himself spoke to me and told me what I needed to know.” Glisa’s gaze was unaccountably scornful. He decided to try again. “Lord Cenoc is welding this country into one against the werewright menace and the Pannian sorcerers in the north.”
“Glisa! You sluggard, get in here! Where are those idiot Young Ones of yours?”
Glisa sighed. “I’ve got to go.”
Coris stifled a sigh. Had he made any progress? “You’ll meet me tonight?”
The scullery maid raised a finger. Turning, she called to the master cook, “I don’t know, sir. Perhaps, in the pantry. I’ll check.” She started slowly toward the door, her face half-turned toward the young knight.
Coris drifted after her. “Tonight?”
Glisa gave him a measuring glance. “Twenty, uh, six, huh?”
“Almost twenty-eight.”
The scullery maid choked in amusement. “Liar. Twenty-first bell, then. We can discuss Latimin politics, if you like.” She winked. “Apparently I have much to learn. And...Perhaps, I can teach you something...”
Coris opened his mouth to answer but she’d already slipped through the door. He took a step, only to stop at the swift approach of Tabistis. The cook was a head taller than himself and powerful, and armed with a knife that made Glisa’s look like a boy’s toy. A knife fight would win him no friends. Coris remembered his assignment in the courtyard.
Extract 1
“I better get back before Riptis passes through,” Coris said. He stared through the fiery cimris tree leaves but saw no movement over by the gate. A soft thump and the creak of a rope sounded from a few feet away, followed by a squelching sound and the renewed stench of blood and entrails. He turned back.
Glisa yanked her knife free from the swaying ragos. She shook guts from her hand and wrist and shifted toward the next furred body dangling from a branch covered with stains and buzzing insects. Lifting each shoulder in turn, she tried to shove the loosening braid of her reddish-brown hair back behind her shoulders. The scullery maid lifted her knife, then paused to smile at him. “Why so anxious? Are we under attack?”
Coris shrugged. “One of Sevris’ servants is loitering over by the gate and I’d better find out why. I’m responsible for this part of the courtyard. If my captain...”
“Sir knight.” She jabbed at the last corpse with a grunt. “You take your job too seriously! Lord Cenoc and the keep-master are friends. All rulers are.”
Coris snorted. “Friends! Glisa, you ... innocent!”
Glisa straightened from the bucket in which she had been washing her hands and the butcher knife. “Oh, am I? How old are you, Coris? Twenty?”
“Twenty-seven.” Coris felt his face redden. He cursed his fair-haired family. ‘Uh, in a few months.”
The woman chuckled.
Coris shrugged, and plunged into speech before she could add more. “My overlord trusts no one. Many envy his rise to power and he needs to know who. That’s why he’s traveling all over Latimus: to find out where pockets of resentment lay. There’s no reason why he and the keep-master should be friends.”
He untied another ragos and tossed it unto the waiting canvas next to the blue-gray boll of the tree’s trunk. His sticky fingers made him regret his unthinking impulse to help. Well, too late now. What had he been saying?
“Sevris is of the old nobility, so he probably wants the old order to regain power. What better time to accomplish that, than today during a hunt? A chance arrow...” Hopefully not. Why had he spoken such a thought aloud? Not that spoken thoughts became deeds…
Glisa was nodding. She looked vexed. Well, he had said enough. He reached down and swished his hands in the bloody water. Probably making the mess worse.
“I know all that, Coris, even if I am only a kitchen wench.”
Coris snorted. “Hardly a wench!” He offered the protest with as much outer conviction as he could manage.
Glisa smiled. “I’ve been called far worse.” Her dark eyes indicated movement inside the scullery door--Tabistis, the master cook, his back to them lighting the meat ovens. “Tell me, Coris. Who were you quoting just then?”
“Who was I?” He shrugged. “Oh, Riptis. Captain of Cenoc’s personal guard.”
“Um. And how long have you been one of Cenoc’s guards?”
“I’ve been training in his service for years of course but I was just named to his personal guard. It was-”
“A great honor, no doubt.”
Coris glared at her, but resisted the urge to slap her. Did she understand nothing, to make so light of it? “Yes, a great honor. When I was knighted last month, I expected to serve at Talon Keep near my family’s ancestral lands, but then Cenoc commanded that I be sent to him. I never guessed my arms master… I mean, I just joined the royal progress a few miles north of here, at Empsa Keep.”
Glisa gave another impatient nod. “At which time this Riptis explained Latimin politics to you, and told you that you should be proud to wear the Screeching Hawk.”
“I am proud of it!” Coris drew himself up to his full five foot ten height. “The captain was my father’s friend, but Lord Cenoc himself spoke to me and told me what I needed to know.” Glisa’s gaze was unaccountably scornful. He decided to try again. “Lord Cenoc is welding this country into one against the werewright menace and the Pannian sorcerers in the north.”
“Glisa! You sluggard, get in here! Where are those idiot Young Ones of yours?”
Glisa sighed. “I’ve got to go.”
Coris stifled a sigh. Had he made any progress? “You’ll meet me tonight?”
The scullery maid raised a finger. Turning, she called to the master cook, “I don’t know, sir. Perhaps, in the pantry. I’ll check.” She started slowly toward the door, her face half-turned toward the young knight.
Coris drifted after her. “Tonight?”
Glisa gave him a measuring glance. “Twenty, uh, six, huh?”
“Almost twenty-eight.”
The scullery maid choked in amusement. “Liar. Twenty-first bell, then. We can discuss Latimin politics, if you like.” She winked. “Apparently I have much to learn. And...Perhaps, I can teach you something...”
Coris opened his mouth to answer but she’d already slipped through the door. He took a step, only to stop at the swift approach of Tabistis. The cook was a head taller than himself and powerful, and armed with a knife that made Glisa’s look like a boy’s toy. A knife fight would win him no friends. Coris remembered his assignment in the courtyard.