CoJ: Chapters 17 through 21

[JasonPratt]

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Chapter 17: Calculated Risks

___Portunista's attention wandered, with her imagination; she could practically taste the power awaiting at her destination! But soon enough she did recall the meeting still in session; and found her subcommanders lost in useless speculation.
___"Gentlemen!" she clapped her hands. "I think we have some hope!"
___Despite their dubious looks, she forged ahead.
___"Qarfax clearly could have only expected Seifas to beat an opposing force of no appreciable size—the others just as clearly were hired to protect his back, and maybe provide more targets for enemy fire. Yet Qarfax hired them anyway! They must have made some contribution to the tower defenses, whatever they are—so now those defenses must have a hole. Which I intend to exploit!
___"Of course," she added, seeing some skeptical looks remained, "greater power provides for greater authority...to share with my faithful subordinates!"
___Dagon widely grinned at this. Othon rolled his eyes, but patiently sighed. Gaekwar snorted; yet he also settled back to consider a marching route.
___Seifas only looked at her again.
___She didn't like him looking at her like that.
___"Get some dinner," she told them, "and be back within an hour. A week and a half, or two, to march," she muttered thoughtfully, as the men unwound and stretched, and exited.
___Seifas was the last to move.
___"Step carefully," murmured the juacuar to her as he left. "The distance between life and death is less than you think."
___That sounded disturbingly cryptic. Did his fair-skinned friend have anything to do with that...?
___Her thoughts returned to Jian, as they had often done since Midsummer's Eve. She paced distractedly through her tent, chewing her lip. Who was he, really? Why was he here? He never did anything notable—helping the vendors, sparring a little with Seifas. Keeping away from her, mostly. She wondered what he might have contributed to her meeting, imagining how he would have looked, trying to guess what he might have said...
___Bah! She kicked a cushion. It flew across her tent with a solid thump.
___Very satisfactory. So she kicked another one.
___Feeling much better, she trod out the flap to find some dinner—maybe some longbread and quail...He would probably be near the quailcotes. She could order some pounded quail on sticks, maybe talk to him, figure out something useful...
___Mulling this over, Portunista wended downhill in the deepening gloom of twilight.
___She hadn't gone far when she heard that voice—
___"You're ready for kissing now, I see!"

___Her feet tangled—with her throat it felt like! Spluttering, she whirled around...!
___She only saw some nearby backs of people.

___She spun some more directions, just in case.
___Meanwhile, Dagon answered from within the crowd: "I'm ready for you to kiss my boots, if that is what you mean!"
___"Well said!" was the hearty reply; the crowd lightly laughed.
___Now Portunista knew where to look, and leapt atop an earthen berm, following as it encircled the hillside, clearing the edge of the crowd.
___"Commander Dagon and I have a bet to resolve," said Jian to the gathering. "From myself: one thrust!" He quickly lunged, though not toward Dagon. "And from him: one parry!" He threw out a hand to the glowering man.
___Silence.
___"Ahem," coughed Jian theatrically. "Your cue, good sir."
___"Get on with it," Dagon nervously growled. "I'm getting hungry; maybe I'll visit the stockpen, before you clean my boots."
___"And that is Dagon's condition for my loss!" said Jian, resuming his rhythm. "If his parry succeeds, then I must clean his boots with my tongue—and he didn't exactly specify a time or place, so who can tell what foulness he may stoop to—or stoop in, eh?" Again the crowd laughed; not a few clapped. Portunista only shook her head. Why must he be so headslappingly...fair?!
___"And in return, should his parry fail—I never said I would hit you on target, sir..." Jian grinned, as Dagon's breath caught short. "Though I shall certainly try," he added, and Portunista snorted. A fine idea, to throw away that advantage... "If he cannot parry my legitimate thrust to his chest," and she tapped her foot in exasperation at this naive slip as well, "then he must give a kiss to Tumblecrumble...on the mouth!" Jian flourished to the crowd's delight.
___"Are you ready now??" Dagon fretted, looking around at the failing light.
___Jian settled into a comfortable stance, within clean striking distance. "Ready and on-guard, good sir! Prepare yourself accordingly!"
___Dagon whipped his falchion into a ready stance, dead center of his mass, where he could easily parry in either direction. "You didn't say that I had to use a stick, dear boy," he smirked.
___"Quite true," Jian smiled in return...
___...sounding no less amused, and yet...

___Portunista blinked. Was she imagining—?
___"Quite true. I didn't. I take it you're ready now."
___"Anytime!" the Krygian snapped.
___"Anytime..." echoed the juacuar nearby. Dagon jerked his head and eyes—
___—Go now! thought Portunista, he's distracted—!

___But Jian turned round and saluted his friend, slowly so Dagon would not mistake it for the thrust. "It's good to know Howclear is here," he said to Dagon, "lest your blade should slip a bit. I wouldn't want my supper ruined." Then he returned on stance. "Ready as well!"
___Fine, thought Portunista, let him lose...he deserves it after his blunders...
___With a snap Jian stabbed from where he stood, then followed smoothly with a lunge. Dagon barked a laugh and whistled his blade—!
___But there was no clang.
___Even in the dimming light, everyone could see the stick, touching Dagon almost in the center.
___"Pucker up, dear sir."
___Jian recovered to attention, with a salute, as the crowd erupted. Dagon stood frozen in shock; but Portunista smiled in surprised appreciation.
___Then, Dagon raised his hands. "Silence! I have something to say!" The noise abated somewhat.
___"Congratulations, sir," he gritted through his teeth. "Clever timing: in this purply haze, I could hardly see a competent disengage. However," he continued, "would you be willing to give me a chance to recoup? Double or nothing?"
___"Don't do it!" "He'd not've given you th' chance!" These and other calls came out of the gathering; ones that Portunista heartily agreed with!
___But... "Before I consent, I must hear the terms you are offering, sir."
___"Torches," stated Dagon. "Plenty of 'em. Also, I think you did not quite fairly play with me...sir...for if you disengaged my blade, it wasn't any straight thrust!"
___"That's debatable, Dagon!" Seifas warned.
___"True!" returned the Krygian smartly—angering Seifas must have seemed better than kissing Tumblecrumble—"But debatable either way. Correct?" He turned toward his opponent. "Shall we see for certain whether you played by what you said?"
___Jian considered this a moment. Then, "Done!" he granted. "Torches!" Dagon cried, and people ran to fetch them. Portunista found that she was growling beneath her breath...but at least he couldn't really lose...
___"And just to keep things interesting," added Jian, "I voluntarily reinstate my own end of your terms!"
___Portunista's jaw popped as it fell open. Even Dagon's eyes went wide. "As you say!" he crowed. "The crowd is a witness!" The maga stamped her foot in frustration—
___"Commander Portunista!" Jian turned round to her. She hadn't known that he had known that she was near!—caught off balance, she nearly tumbled off the earthen berm.
___This did not improve her temper any.
___"Would you kindly wisp the area for us, please? I wouldn't want for Dagon to be cheated by the flickering of the torches."
___"Done!" she barked, and whistled up some floating globes.
___"Same shot!" Jian announced; then he came on guard.
___Dagon grunted, face and body tensing tight as steel, as he brought his falchion into line. "And no feints!"
___"Certainly not. One straight shot. If you're ready."
___"Ready!" gritted Dagon, his eyes boresighted on the wooden stick, as if by force of will he could destroy it...
___With a proper stab, Jian set up the shot—and then lunged home.
___"GRAAAHHH!" Dagon roared, falchion flashing in the brilliant sea of 
orangish-white—!

___He roared. But didn't clang.
___The blunt wide tip was resting just about dead center of the Krygian's chest.
___"I didn't disengage you last time either," Jian smiled up at him.

___"Now—!" the fair man spread his arms to quiet the crowd as the cheering began again. "You have a problem, Dagon. You bet me double or nothing, but frankly there isn't any point in kissing Tumblecrumble twice. So, to me, your second terms seem rather open."
___Dagon started to dispute, but the juacuar stepped forward and overtly stared into his ear. The Krygian leaped away in panic: "Get back from me, you freak!"
___"Only checking," Seifas warned.
___"So I was thinking," Jian continued, with relentless cheerfulness, "I'll choose something you consider yours, to kiss. And as I've had that kiss already, I'm glad to report your account is almost clear. Fair?"
___Dagon looked dissatisfied with this; the logic seemed suspicious. But, what else could he do?
___"Agreed," he mumbled.
___Jian saluted Dagon and the crowd, and then he strode away; downhill through the cheers. Portunista huffed a sigh: a perfect opportunity for him to extort his enemy—altogether wasted!
___But, as the crowd and Seifas started hedging Dagon toward the edge of camp that Tumblecrumble favored, Portunista turned to follow Jian.
___Dropping nimbly off the berm, she trailed him from a distance.
___He walked in unobtrusiveness, often changing direction, finding the path of least attention.
___When he reached the quailcotes, he asked a vendor for sticks of pounded meat—just as she'd expected.
___When his sticks were ready, he turned to leave—
___and found the maga waiting, holding cups of mead and bracing up a loaf of longbread with her arm.
___"Do you mind?" she asked. "I could use some company, while I eat tonight." Good start, she thought and pleasantly smiled; very smooth. In fact, he looked a little thrown off-balance...
___"Send some extra sticks of quail to me," she told the vendor, and then turned to suggest her tent for solitude...but Jian had already moved away.
___"Thanks! That sounds fine!" he told her over his shoulder. He walked to find a nearby fire, and there he settled back against a log. No one else was at the firepit, but it wasn't private. Seven paces distant, some of Othon's company were heartily shoveling down their evening meal, as a sapling crackled in their fire.
___Jian began to nibble neatly on his skewered strips of quail, pausing for a sip of mead. Portunista pulled the bread in halves, and tossed him one.
___"So," she started, and she munched her bread. "Very impressive. You don't even care if he kisses the beast?"
___Jian shrugged. "I'm not worried. If he doesn't, he will undermine his own authority, showing himself to be a man who breaks his oaths—though granted, of a minor sort."
___Portunista nodded. Very clever—devious even. "And if he fills your terms, he looks a clown." She took another bite of bread. "But, you might have lost."
"So?" he asked, and looked at her directly...
___...she saw that he was utterly insane...

___She tromped down on that burst of fear, and drew the clear conclusion.
___"You rigged it."
___He chuckled and sipped some mead.
___"No. And yes. Sort of. I didn't fix it so I couldn't lose." He smiled a most unnerving smile.
___"But...if you had lost—!" Maybe he was insane...! Had she just spit out a chunk of the bread...?!
___"Nothing a jug of water couldn't fix. I didn't say that I would swallow anything, nor that I'd lick his boots all totally clean at once." Not an especially comforting explanation, the maga thought! "I'm sure it would've tasted vile," he added.
___"But—you would've looked—!" The implications dawned on her.
___"A fool?" he finished for her—with a grin she normally would have described as diabolic. "As you can see"—he paused to take a grateful-looking sip of mead—"I didn't have much to lose; and plenty to gain, no matter what. I played it fair and in good temper; had I lost, I would have paid the same. People probably would have bought me supper for a week," he chuckled.
___Portunista's quail arrived. The boy who carried it scurried away when Portunista scowled at him—his grin and Jian's seemed much too close for comfort.
___She shuffled some things around in her mind, while they ate together in silence. She absently hoped that Jian hadn't seen that bit of bread fly out of her mouth...
___On the other hand—she had to swallow a grin herself, when she caught him perusing her, over his meal. She had slipped into a few old habits, calling attention to herself...and away from that bit of bread, she hoped...
___Jian had seemed to constantly give away his advantages—but now she thought he must have been securing them while doing so.
___"Are you really that good with a sword?" she asked, hiding her interest under a tease.
___"No," he chuckled. "And, yes; in a way. I did win the bet, after all."
___"How?" she asked, more forcefully than she'd intended.
___"Surely you don't believe I'm going to tell you all my secrets just like that!" he laughed. "Dagon led himself into it, through his overcare and pride. Seifas probably knows the trick—or any of several regular veterans. It wouldn't hurt for you to talk to them a little anyway, you know."
___But, she decided she would not ask Seifas, or anyone else. Now it was a challenge; a minor one perhaps, but if successful, maybe with interesting  rewards...
___Wait...He was finishing up, and...Was he preparing to leave her at the fire? This was hardly something she was accustomed to!
___"And what about that gibberish at the end, about the terms already being fulfilled? What did that mean?" she rattled out, off the top of her head. He was about to leave her there...!
___"You mean you have no clue?" he winked.
___And then he strode away into the dark—probably to return his cup and sticks to the vendor and quailer! she slunk, thinking to herself—

___and then she nearly choked on her bread.
___She was absently rubbing the tip of her nose.

Skip JRP comments and go to next chapter

[JasonPratt]

Notes from the real author...

This is one of my favorite chapters from Book 1, and starts with one of my favorite paragraphs from any of the series. It's pretty straightforward, not much need for commentary--except on some things I won't comment about in order to avoid spoilers (mostly whassup with Jian). ;)

I won't reveal Jian's tactic until near the end of Book 3 (when Seifas will use it); and I can say in advance that Portunista kind of forgets about wanting to figure it out (due to other things going on) until Book 4. But it's a real tactic I've occasionally used myself in fencing, much to the bewildered astonishment of people much better than I am.  :lol: So yes, it's real, and yes it works, and if someone does it right against someone who doesn't understand it and isn't expecting it, it really is an (almost) unbeatable thrust. (There's a way which someone who doesn't understand it could use to accidentally beat it, and several ways to intentionally beat it once it's recognized, but I'm not going to spoil how it's done by describing those.)


The longbread and quail are simple foods I happen to like a lot myself which I figured might be provided by vendors in this situation; but if anyone draws a comparison between this and Israel eating bread and quail in the wilderness--yep, I had that in mind, too. :) Just don't press the comparisons too far.

For example, I had no hidden meaning in mind when Portunista spits out some of the bread, although now that I think of it some viable metaphorical meanings could be applied! But I was only providing a bit of color for the scene, based on something embarrassing that happened to me a year or so prior to writing CoJ, when I had dinner with someone I was romantically attracted to (although I didn't quite realize it at the time) and in the middle of dinner while talking a bit of hamburger bun flew out of my mouth and landed on the table--and I was utterly mortified and could only hope she didn't notice. (God knows I wasn't about to call attention to it by clearing it away, either!--so there it sat for the rest of the meal. ;) )


The "earthen berms" are something I originally explained in more detail, but that got cut out in pre-production. They've been camped on this hill consolidating their new troops (and harvesting local wildlife and fauna--a detail also cut from previous chapters during editing) for about two of our months, so logically they've set up some simple defensive parameters, including rings of earth encircling the hill behind which people can stand for defending against a charge or against direct missile fire. (As an aside, there's a reason Mikonese use the term "fire" when talking about shooting arrows or crossbow bolts or whatever, but they themselves don't know what the reason is. I hint about this later in Book 3, but I'm aware that it's anachronistic for people without gunpowder to talk about "firing" shots.) Portunista can use her magic to help shape the earth more effectively, so the berms do look like grassy ridges curving around the hill: she pushed them up into place herself and the grass is still growing on them!


This is the final chapter in the book to take place somewhere other than the Valley of Qarfax; there aren't many "locations" broadly speaking, which I would expect to make it easier for a film production crew someday hopefully.  :D  Book 2 only has one extensive new "set", too, for that matter, although that's a small city so it's more complex than the valley and its (relatively small) tower.

[JasonPratt]

Chapter 18: Signs Of Change In The Weather

___I now look forward a week and a half, or maybe two, beloved—only twelve days at most.
___The dark man lies in darkness, guarding as the others sleep. The nearby firepit-glow does not even reach the ceiling overhead.
___On occasion, Seifas looks up from his open journal, inches from his face. When—or if his turn to sleep does come, he shall pillow his head upon his book, not even rolling over.
___He has no wish to press the scabbing cuts upon his back.

___"Being in Qarfax Tower again, is making my flesh to creep," he writes.

___A question nags his mind:
___What had Qarfax felt, before he died?
___Better to contemplate the recent past than worry about the future, he decides. So he puts his pen to paper once again.

___"This afternoon—was it only this afternoon?—we met to plan our squad's approach, to the Tower in the dell. Portunista wouldn't hear of bringing more than just a squad, betting all our lives on her impression of a hole I somehow left in the Tower defenses..."

___Seifas' pen trails off, as he looks around and listens.
___Did he hear something? Was it wind...or a lost soul's moan?
___...Wind. Even the lightest touch of a breeze upon a draft-hole under the eaves, might have made a noise as Seifas has heard. Or imagined he heard.
___Where was he at...? He scans what he wrote, to reestablish his thoughts...

❖ ❖ ❖

___She also insisted on bringing each subcommander. Maybe this only shows how much she doesn't trust us in her absence; but we four do maximize force with minimum complement.
___Dagon suggested we take some expendable troops for "testing" trap situations. Before that villainous line of thought could be accepted, I neatly turned the tables by proposing we bring Jian—leaving the impression that he would fill this role.
___Dagon leapt at the proposition.
___Othon and Gaekwar didn't seem to mind.
___But Portunista's response I watched most closely.
___Increasingly, she has been seeking his company. Sometimes this can be clearly explained. Some of the vendors and soldiers, serving as porters, broke into a rousing syncopated chant, early on the second marching day. Natural curiosity led myself and Portunista both to investigate.
___Jian had taught them, and was leading the chant.
___We also found him going from man to woman to man, carrying part or all of their loads, a few minutes each.
___When Portunista saw this, she rode away again, looking somewhat  uncomfortable.
___But she never stayed away. I watched her as she rode or ate nearby at times when he was not behaving oddly at all.
___She didn't always speak to him; and when she did, it was only a minor question or politeness. Still, anyone could easily see she wasn't treating other troops this way.
___So—when Dagon recommended that we bring an expendable man along to help us "clear out rooms," I saw an opportunity and said: "Perhaps take Jian. He might serve us well."
___"Perhaps," admitted Portunista. "He has proven he can quickly think; and if we lost him, it would hardly matter."
___But, her eyes were not so nonchalant...

❖ ❖ ❖

___And Seifas ceases writing; hearing again the quiet sighing touching on some distant flue.
___Does it herald a change in the weather, he wonders?
___Why does it seem like a warning of tragedy...?

[JasonPratt]

Chapter 19: Waiting And Humming

___Now I turn  back several hours, my beloved; to watch the squad arriving.
___Seifas, having scouted ahead, met them at the treeline. He waited, watching the woods around them, while they got their view of the dell.
___"That," Dagon muttered, "is just about the shortest, squattest 'Tower' I've ever seen..."
___"It's bigger than it looks from here; we're still a long way off," Seifas reminded him.
___"Right," Gaekwar mumbled. "Compared to that little bitty tent down there, it's huge."
___Seifas gave a nod. "I've flanked a little left and right of our advance, and also when I first arrived. But, I haven't seen another sign of anyone."
___The Krygian snorted softly. "Huzzah for the Hunting Cry, eh?"
___"It isn't as though we're magical," Seifas growled in bitter nervousness. "If I am not given time to work, then I cannot scout anywhere thoroughly!"
___That was aimed at Portunista, who thinned her lips. She had insisted on coming here, as soon as her brigade could settle camp, after arriving late that morning and choosing a spot a little way past the valley's pass.
___"We're here," she said. "So let's do something about it."
___"I suggest we wait to get a feel of what is out here."
___"Fine. Don't wait too long."
___The juacuar withheld a sigh. Kilopaces away from camp, at the end of afternoon—of course they couldn't wait too long! Thanks to her.
___Seifas knew that he was the only one in the squad who could feasibly keep on a mission after sunset, isolated in the woods.
___So, unless they were settled in the Tower within the next two hours or so, they would have to camp somewhere nearby. Where the owner of the tent—or anyone in the Tower—might try stalking them.
___And he would be their only real defense.
___"Is this a natural dell?" asked Jian.
___Twelve weeks after meeting him, Seifas still had no idea how much Jian knew about this sort of mission; but at least he'd asked a pertinent question.
___"No, I think it isn't," answered Portunista, with a final glare toward the juacuar. Then she closed her eyes and chuffed a brief semantic sequence, while the others watched and waited.
___Short, thick yellowed grass carpeted the smooth wide bowl; no trees, no brush, no hedges. Four swift brooks rushed down the slopes, diving below the center of every wall through low, wide openings. Next to the sluice of the southern wall: one door, offset and narrow. The tent had been set nearby the southern stream, within a hundred paces from the door.
___After a minute, Portunista shook her head, opened her eyes, and blinked away thin flecks of Yrthen materia. "I can't exactly tell," she grudgingly sighed. "The valley has been artificially shaped in small respects, but...more like sandings, or even polishings here and there, I think. Smoothings. Also," she deepened her voice in worry, "something in the dell itself—under the dell—is interfering with my scrution."
___"So..." Gaekwar drawled, "do we go in now, wait until the sun goes down, or wander around and try to find whoever owns the tent?"
___"Let's just wait a bit and think," said Portunista—then winced at Seifas' smile.
___So they settled into place.
___Seifas took a moment to appreciate his favorite time of year: autumn's upslope had arrived. He eased his mind by contemplating colors: the quiet slow explosions of the trees, measuring weeks instead of an instant.
___Jian had settled beneath a honey tree; its leaves were well on their way to matching his rust-colored shirt. Its sap would make him sticky on the back, however! The absentminded man might take some ribbing, Seifas figured; but would probably think it funny, too. Especially since he had only bought the shirt that morning, after hearing Seifas tell the reason Dagon wanted to bring him along!
___He certainly wore the shirt quite well: Portunista had given Jian an appreciative look, before the hike.
___So things were progressing steadily on that front; yet, Seifas vaguely felt disturbed whenever he thought about it now...
___"Hsst!" This came from Portunista, too brief to be a jotting. Moments ago, Seifas had heard her chuffing again, trying another Yrthescrution. She knelt upon one knee, head on hand in thought—but with the other hand thrown out behind.
___Pointing along the line, between them and the brigade.
___"Someone's coming; from that way," she whispered. The men crept closer to her. "I was checking to see if there was something unusual under the forest, like in the dell—there isn't—and footsteps just appeared back there."
___"Coming into your sensing range?" Jian asked.
___"No!" the maga shook her head. "Several paces within. They just appeared, between one moment and the next! Human weight, not too large, two-legged. Boots I think, but soft ones. Soon we'll see; he's coming directly for us." She brushed her watering eyes until they cleared.
___The squad lined up across the path of advance; while Seifas concealed himself, preparing for trouble.
___Then the humming began.

[JasonPratt]

Chapter 20: Path Through The Woods

___Portunista certainly hadn't expected a casual humming!
___Moments later, a short man rounded the path. His broad face exhibited plenty of smile marks, especially near his deeply twinkling eyes. Short black hair receded smoothly from his forehead, going well with dark gray trousers and field-jacket.
___He tromped to a stop, loudly threshing leaves in his way.
___"Oh me! Oh my!" He popped his hands theatrically.
___"Onto what have I stumbled here?"—by his jerky pacing and pitch, he wasn't surprised in the least. Then his speech smoothed out, while keeping its tenored edge: "Four shady-lookin' gentl'men, a lady whose squint could kill—ease up, doll, or those lines'll be permanent, trust me on this—an'...lessee..." Not even moving his eyes, he kicked a pebble into the brush—eliciting a grunt. "Oh, yeah, a jaaa-guar!" Seifas rose from the brush like a spectre. "Haven't seen one o' yous in a while; good t' see ya now. Don't go gettin' cat-a-stro-phic on me, 'kay? I jus' wanna see the people I'm talkin' to. 'Sides, that shrub couldn't'a'been comft'ble." The short man grinned and rubbed his hands, as if deciding what order they all should be eaten in.
___"This wouldn't be Qarfax by any chance," Gaekwar muttered to Seifas; who snorted: "Not even close."
___"Qarfax...Qaaar-faax..." The man darted his eyes above their heads, as if searching his memory. "Can't say I ever heard th' name." He perked, standing an inch or two straighter—not that this came to much—and tipped his head to the side. "Does he have somethin' to do with th' buildin' down there in th' lake?"
___Portunista wasn't sure that she could spot a fellow apprentice, set loose by the chaos of the Culling; but she didn't think this man possessed the underlying aura of a Cadrist's power.
___"He looks more like a thug." She eyed him head to foot with some distaste.
___His eyebrows twitched with his faltering smile, before he resumed that unsettling grin.
___"Nice voice! Betcha sing pretty good when y're in th' mood. At least, I betcha keep time pretty good, eh?" He grinned even wider and winked.
___"WHAT!" she bellowed—was that an innuendo...?!
___But, "Tickety-tockety-lickety-split," he chattered while snapping his fingers; then "BAM!" he pointed at a tree. "Or, th' like," he shrugged. "'Sides, y're th' only one here 'thout an obvious weapon, an' no off'nse, y'ain't got many places t' hide one."
___The maga blushed with fury: her shirt and breeches weren't that tight!
___"Don't zap me, doll; that was a com-pli-ment, case y'hadn't noticed. Okay, so, who's in charge?"
___"The doll," Othon rumbled.
___"Ah." The stranger nodded; then bowed to Portunista. "It's really quite...um...fetching. Really. I'm sure it's entirely practical; it looks practical! Just...um...well-cut, yeah...help me out here, guys, I'm dyin'..."
___Portunista didn't expect—or want!—for someone to help the little weasel...! She was thinking of "fetching" the remains of his hair to test a jotting theory of hers—but...
___"You mentioned something about a lake, I think," Jian offered.
___"Yeah! A lake! Right! Like I was sayin'..." The slightly stocky man hustled over to the treeline's edge. "Thanks, pal," he muttered, before he continued: "As y'c'n see, what we have here is a lake...'xcept," he shook his head amused in wonder, "there ain't no lake."
___And he changed the shake of his head to a satisfied nod.
___Again, silence.
___He looked around, guarding his expression.
___"I take it from sap-boy's snappy save, that yous didn't know this was s'posed t' be a lake, hm? Now, either yous wand'red out here in th' middle o' Eyeforsaken nowh—" He cut himself short with a "sorry," and a harrumph. It occurred to Portunista that he was trying to "spare her," as the "lady" of the group, from his profanity.
___Now she thought that steam might be emitting out her ears...!
___"—wander'd out here in th' middle of nowhere, 'thout a map," he continued, "or, yous know a bit o' somethin' 'bout this place I don't. So..." he shrugged elaborately, and walked a few steps back into the woods along the path, turning to face them again. "So what's th' scoop here? Hm?"
___"We don't know you, and you're not in any position to ask us anything," Portunista declared. He didn't wilt beneath her glare, but did hold up his hands.
___"Okay! No need t' get hos-tile. I'll go first."
___He cleared his throat. "My name..." He paused, and looked around at everyone in turn. "...is Pooralay."
___Dagon snickered. "Well; that's inoffensive enough!"
___"Yeah, well, I'm an inoff'nsive kinda guy. So kiss off, doll-boy."
___Dagon choked and Portunista watched him turn a lovely shade of reddish purple! But before the Krygian could act...
___"Hi! I'm Jian." The fair man walked to meet the stranger with a smile and outstretched hand.
___"Uh...yeah...call me Poo, I guess..." He shook Jian's hand. "Yeesh, guys, where'd y'find this clown? Is he simple, or what?"
___"Expendable," muttered Dagon.
___"Actually," chuckled Gaekwar, "he found us."
___"Ah." Pooralay carefully watched as Jian, who shrugged, resumed his place in the line. Then he squinted his beady eyes, and tilted his head. "Do I know you?"
___Portunista's temper doused in shock; her hearing felt as sharp as knives...Know Jian??
___The fair man thought on this a moment. "I am certain," he replied—very carefully—"that we have never met, and that I don't know you."
___This didn't seem to satisfy the little man, but with a muttered "Yeah...okay...my mistake, I guess," he turned back to the others in the group. "Um...okay; wristboy, how 'bout you?"
___"Uh-uh," Gaekwar corrected. "Now you tell us why you're here." He emphasized this with his disker-laden arm.
___"Okay...I c'n unnerstand y'bein' nervous 'n all...but howsabout pointin' that thing somewhere po-lite b'fore I get annoyed."
___Gaekwar didn't move; but Pooralay did. With a fatalistic shrug, he sauntered over to the 'cowherd', putting his torso inches from the disker.
___"Now y're sure t' hit me. Feel any better?"
___—a blurring hand—
___—the disker's springy whine—!

___Gaekwar gasped and caught himself from leaping backward.
___Pooralay had stuck a short thin knife between the disker's channeled metal slots, blocking the shuttling mechanism.
___Instantly plenty of weapons were leveled...but Jian only watched while stroking his beard.
___"Kinda jumpy, aincha?" Pooralay grinned. "Don't move, or y'might get stuck. I ain't nicked y'r arm—yet. Like I said," the short man flicked his eyes around at them, "I jus' don't like t' be annoyed, is all." Pushing the disker gently to the side, with a "Watchit," Pooralay pulled the knife from the works. The disc spat weakly out. "Prob'ly gonna need to check those springs," the stranger suggested—Gaekwar looked as though he had swallowed his tonsils. "So big guy, how 'bout you?" Pooralay turned to face the spiky end of an edged mace. "You gotta name, or are y'gonna be imp'lite to someone who's ver-ti-cal-ly challeng'd?"
___The "big guy" squinted, and then replaced his mace inside the wooden frame upon his back. "Othon."
___"Fair 'nuff; you 'n th' kid with th' sap on his back're all okay in my book. You too," he nodded to Seifas. "I'm okay with jaguars on gen'r'l prin-ci-ple." He stepped five paces back, to regard them all again. "Okay, so y'wanna know why I'm here."
___He paused, and then inhaled.
___"I'm lookin'...f'r the Well at th' End of th' Wood."

Skip JRP commentary and go to next chapter

[JasonPratt]

Notes from the real author...

And so the final party member arrives. More notes on him after next chapter, but until then if someone notices that "Pooralay" is an old French word for "path through the woods"--yay for being exceedingly geeky! :D

I'm also being clever there (and with a thing or two said in dialogue) about a plot secret that I won't spell out directly until somewhere toward the end of Book 5.


Meanwhile, Seifas in chapter 18 is performing one of his plot-structure functions, which is to provide some foreshadowing of the next several hours in story: we know they get into the Tower now (although the reader would easily expect that so it isn't much of a spoiler), but not without Seifas having been scarred. And where are the others while he's keeping watch?

(I'm secretly being a tad clever about the title of that chapter, too, but I'll explain that in some chapter notes toward the end of Section Three.)

I also took this opportunity to drop one of my occasional hints that Mikonese time reckoning isn't the same as ours: their weeks are only five days long.

I didn't want to fall into the trap of some epic fantasies of environmentally describing everything that happens (although on the other hand some readers buy epic fantasies partly because we enjoy detailed environmental descriptions :) ), so I kept the trip to the Tower a minimal flashback, and focused more on the developing Jian/Portunista relationship en route.

While I do have one or two mental ideas of what the syncopated humming chant is that Jian taught the troops, readers are invited to supply your own as you prefer. :)

The concept of Jian taking a turn sharing everyone's load on the march, is borrowed directly from the history of Daniel Boone; specifically from a detail in The Court Martial of Daniel Boone. Captain Boone was tried on six counts of treason during the Revolutionary War while at Boonesborough, as one of the first military court-martials held in the history of the United States. Had he been convicted of even one of those charges, he would have been executed; nevertheless court records indicate he insisted on defending himself despite not having any legal training. I don't want to spoil that story, so I'll point in the direction of the book and move along. :)

Dagon's snarky remarks about how small and squat the "tower" looks (from up on the ridgeline of the dell) is a late addition, one of the last major revisions before I sent the text to the printers. I suddenly realized that my mental picture of the Tower in relation to the surrounding area was ABSOLUTELY TOTALLY WRONG on most details related to scale. Consequently, I had to rush through the text looking for references to the visual appearance of the building in relation to the surrounding valley, and make adjustments about what people would be seeing. This wasn't pleasant, and Dagon's remarks reflect my annoyance at having to do so. ;)

When I originally wrote these chapters I hadn't even remotely plotted out what would happen in the Tower, so Portunista's scan or "scrution" only indicated the dell had been artificially shaped somehow. Once I finished the first draft, I started going back and adding bits of information to help the characters start putting together the local puzzles.

Gaekwar tends to suffer a bit from what modern writers like to call the "Worf Effect": how badass is this or that other character?--he can give Gaekwar problems! (Star Trek: The Next Generation used to use their resident Klingon, Worf, for this illustrative purpose a lot, thus the story trope's nickname.)

Portunista's outfit was a little tough to describe from the perspective of the characters: it really is a perfectly sensible set of shirt/blouse, trousers and boots (with a utility belt!--like the other characters also have), but naturally she's had it tailored to fit a woman's physique comfortably.  One of Portunista's original problems however was vanity, and while I decided not long after this chapter to dial that problem waaaay back, I left this remnant for humor's sake: yeah, it really is sensible and comfortable, but she had it tailored to flatter her looks, too. ;) (Her outfit as the Empress looks even more stylish and attractive, for that matter! :lol: )

[JasonPratt]

Chapter 21: Getting To Know

___Pooralay led  them down into the dell, chattering amiably; though Seifas noticed he stepped on Dagon's foot in passing, probably for laughing at him again.
___"Actsh'ly," the stranger said, "now that I'm here, I'm even more sure that I'm at th' prop'r place. Well," he added, after a moment's thought, "not complet'ly sure, but ev'rythin' seems t' be tallyin' up that way."
___They watched in all directions as he led them down the slope. Being in the open, made the juacuar feel nervous. The kilopace of clearance round the Tower gave an ample firing field.
___"So, okay," the little man continued, "what's th' end of a woods? It's like y're askin' where the end'f a blob 'r circle is: nowhere. Sure you c'd have an arm o' th' woods thrown off like here or there—hell, most woods got a hunnert 'r thous'nds of 'em—but what makes that 'the end'?" he crooked his fingers. "Nothin'. It c'd be th' b'ginnin' just as eas'ly. So, I figur'd that once you get t' th' middle of a woods, basic'ly you've establish'd an ob-jec-tive-ly dis-tinc-tive part o' th' woods. Right? Y'can't go any furth'r into th' woods, once y'reach th' middle—'cause at that point y're goin' out again. And that," he ended, "is an end!"
___He turned with hands spread wide in triumph, walking backwards, waiting for applause.
___"That seems logical," nodded Jian, deep in thought. He seemed to be the only person taking Pooralay seriously yet.
___"But why," he asked, "would you be looking for this Well?"
___The short man blinked and stumbled, and the others stopped in  amazement.
___"Y'mean y'never heard of it?!"
___"Um..." Jian shrugged, looking around, "...maybe I've led a sheltered life so far?"
___"Yeah..." Pooralay mused. "Yeah, okay, that I c'n buy..." He shook his head. "So, anyone want t' 'xplain it?"
___Dagon rolled his eyes. "It's a kiddie tale."
___"A legend," Portunista corrected—coming to Jian's defense, as Seifas saw...
___"A treasure." Gaekwar pointedly stared at Pooralay.
___"A risk," asserted Othon, folding his arms.
___"A prophecy," Seifas emphasized.
___"Well...that's helpful!" Jian smiled—perhaps at his pun.
___Pooralay grunted. "Yeah, it's all o' that, I guess." Then he recited:

___"The Well at the End of the Wood
___delivers both evil and good.
___Make your choice and leap into strife.
___Learn the price of death and of life."

___Seifas and Portunista studiously recited the poem with him. Gaekwar sounded embarrassed, but still he chanted it. Dagon only rolled his eyes again, and turned away; perhaps to keep on watch for trouble. Othon didn't join the chant, exactly; but he clearly rumbled "life."
___"'Kay. So y're not all ign'ramuses. I was b'ginnin' t' worry." Pooralay scowled at Jian, before resuming his downslope pace.
___"So...basically...nobody knows what the Well may be."
___"Well, no...heh-heh-heh," Pooralay chuckled, at his own pun. "But it's obvi'sly somethin' worth findin'."
___Dagon snorted. "Yeah, sometimes second sons of merchants or nobles, with nothing better to do, get all decked out to gallivant around the countryside, looking for the thing. It's an excuse to look good for the ladies, get into fights...They call themselves 'errants', like that's supposed to be impressive."
___"Confidence tricksters also harp on the Well," Gaekwar added, staring at Pooralay.
___"True errants do exist," insisted Seifas. "But they're very rare."
___"We weren't taught about the Well by our instructors," Portunista said—not as far as she got, Seifas silently amended!—"Maybe the history teachers knew something about it...or..."
___"Researchers," Othon finished.
___"Superspace researchers maybe?" Gaekwar gestured at the Tower.
___"Who knows?" shrugged Portunista. "But we're working at it backward. We would have to know about the Well, before we could begin to guess who knows—or knew—whatever..." She trailed off, thinking. By her thirsty look, Seifas supposed that she was dreaming about more power than she had imagined.
___The juacuar decided, that whatever it took, he would prevent her from finding the Well—for her own good.
___And a darkness settled on him, for he knew what he was willing to do—to keep her from becoming a monster...
___They finished their hike downslope, each of them in silence—even Pooralay.
___Then as they reached the tent: "This is yours, I guess." Gaekwar jerked a thumb.
___"Yeah..." The little man absently waved, striding past without a glance. Then he sat and stared by turns, first at the cubic Tower now looming over them, then at the grassy valley all around.
___Meanwhile, Seifas eyed the tent, then scanned the far encircling treeline. "But," he said to everyone, "he hasn't been staying here."
___It took a moment for Pooralay to register this. Then he grinned and cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah...oh, hey, you're good!" He assessed the area once again himself. "Yeah, I got here 'bout three days ago. Set th' tent up kinda as a decoy. Guess I shoulda come down here an' scuffl'd it some at night, t' make it look more lived-in."
___"So, you've seen activity in the Tower?" Portunista asked.
___"Not a peep," he shook his head. "But that don't mean a thing. Been sittin' aroun', scoutin' th' area, tryin' to get th' lay o' th' land." He chuckled again, sardonically. "Tryin' t' get up gumption enough t' tackle th' door or a sluice, or work m' way up to the roof and look around."
___Seifas motioned for the squad to settle in; they kneeled or squatted comfortably, beneath the azure deepness of the sky. The sunbeams slanted down with friendly fierceness, yet with definite lack of heat. Winter would be coming soon; and Seifas paused a moment to enjoy the feel and smell and sights, inhaling them, forcibly banishing darkness away from his thoughts.
___Then he padded over to the little man, and sank to sit beside him.
___"Let us play a game." He smiled with equal menace and goodwill.
___"D'pends on th' game, don't it?" "Poo" smiled back in much a similar manner.
___"Your accent comes from Tafel, probably Tafeltop itself."
___"Sharp ear!" Pooralay chuckled—it hardly took a genius to figure that...
___"You're good enough with knives that you aren't carrying any weapon larger than the two long daggers holstered on each belt, at hand."
___"Bloody good eye. Remind me never t' fight a jaguar..."
___"However, the knife you used for blocking 'wristboy's' disc from launching—"
___"Gaekwar!" "Wristboy" interjected. Pooralay arched an eyebrow at the juacuar—but Seifas knew the information wouldn't be much gain: he doubted any farming mother named her son an ancient word for "cowherd"...
___"That knife," continued Seifas, "was a balanced throwing dagger."
___"So?"
___"You haven't been camping in the tent; where would you 'come down from' at night to make it look more slept-in? Only the trees around the rim."
___The little man had stopped his grinning, though his eyes still twinkled.
___"When we detected your approach, your feet just seemed to suddenly plop on the ground from nowhere." Seifas didn't tell of how they knew this. "You clearly weren't surprised to see us; yet you purposely scuffled leaves as you got closer. Why? To make us think you always move so loudly, perhaps. Either your eyes are sharp enough to spot me in that brush, or else you already knew that I was near, and made a solid guess of where I'd be most likely hiding. Jian was standing with the rest of us when you arrived, and never turned his back to you—and yet you knew the sap was on his back. You watched him lean against the honey tree." Seifas smiled, matching evaluating stares with Pooralay.
___"You were in the branches of the trees—close enough to see us; maybe to hear us, too. And then you quickly moved a little further off, quietly and unseen, dropping down to meet us on the path. You surely possess the necessary handspeed and precision."
___Seifas stopped a moment. His "sparring" partner didn't bat an eyelid.
___"Portunista over there was right." Let him know her name as well, Seifas thought; if he's heard of her, he might also know she commands a group of companies, and that might help forestall some future problems. "You're a thug."
___Pooralay conceded with a sigh.
___"I am Seifas." The juacuar gave him a greeting hand. No reason not to be polite, he thought. Besides, a thief might soon be useful...
___A hesitation—then Pooralay accepted Seifas' hand. His shake seemed genuine. "I'm not confessin' t' nothin', y'unnerstand...but rottin' good for you.
___"Okay! That leaves doll-boy ov'r there, whose name I couldn't care less about—"
___"Dagon!" "Doll-boy" growled.
___"Whatever...Okay, my turn now." He clapped his hands together, and resumed his shadowy grin.
___"There's an encamp'd br'gade 'bout sev'nty-seven hunnerd paces south o' here, 'r so."
No one expressed any shock; this didn't seem to disappoint him. "I take it this ain't news t' anyone. I'd make some c'nclusions from that, 'xcept there ain't no point, 'cause I follow'd you here from y'r camp! Yeah, I thought that might get more reaction!
___"Shadowed you at an angle, 'bout a hunnerd paces t' y'r left, followin' down th' stream t' mask my noise. Y'didn't swing wide enough," he winked toward the juacuar.
___On seeing Seifas' self-chastising scowl, the little stranger not-unkindly laughed: "Don't knock y'rself too hard upside th' head; you were obvi'sly inna hurry t' get here—or maybe someone else was inna hurry. Y'didn't strike me as th' sort to rush a job like that. Th' lady here runs the gig; Othon said so, but she obvi'sly ain't th' squaddie leader. So she's got a higher rank. Justa guess, o' course."
___"Good guess," Portunista admitted grudgingly. Not a bad idea, however, to let him confirm the scope of her authority...
___"Meanin' she's th' one t' blame for hurryin' out here late in th' day." Seifas had to forcibly smother a kindred grin; Portunista wasn't amused.
___"Sap-boy didn't know that this was s'posed to be a lake. He seems a little wet b'hind th' ears, but no one told 'im diff'rent, so I'm guessin' you weren't comin' here for, let us say, th' u-nique ge-o-gra-phi-cal features of th' region. Y're here for the Tower. You were 'xpectin' a Qarfax fella; and y'figure he's in the-o-ret-ic re-search. That makes this a Cadr'st Tower—even though it don't much look like one," he wryly observed. "Lady's prob'ly a maga; word is, mosta th' Cadre's vaporized themselves. Two an' two t'gether, y're here on a gadget-lootin' run, give y'r brigade some punch." He shrugged. ___"Maybe I c'n help. Eyecansee, I c'd use some help," he sighed. "I hate t' mess with magi." Turning, he regarded the Tower. "Guess that's gonna change, huh?" And he sighed again. "Place gives me th' heebiejeebs. I kinda gotta feelin' 'bout it. I trust my feelin's!" he declared, and spun back around to the group.
___"Well, it isn't like you have to 'mess with magi,'" Dagon said. "You could just hike on out of here; go find a lonely merchant-lady to fleece."
___"Whassa-matter? Y'think y'r odds are bad with me aroun'? Sure I thoughta tailin' out," admitted the little man, "but I didn't come here f'r th' loot...Well, y'know, maybe a little, just f'r my 'xpenses...Hey!—why'm I 'pologizin' to you guys?! Y're just like me, only taller, 'n' rookies! I ain't here f'r treasure! I'm here 'cause—!"
___Smothering what he was going to say, Pooralay sulked instead. "Y're just here t' get y'r brigade some firepower. Whoop-de-floggin'-do. Good luck, and have at it. J'st stay outta my way."
___"And power over life and death and good and evil doesn't count as 'firepower'..." Gaekwar said acidically.
___"Who knows j'st what it counts as?" shot back Pooralay. "Who said it's 'power'? Sounds more like knowl'dge t' me. But then, I don't have your obvious decades of 'xperience, decipherin' multi-millennia cosmic hooey!!" And he spat in Gaekwar's direction.
___"Could be both," Othon murmured, looking at the sun descending in the west. Seifas knew that Portunista also would consider knowledge power...
___"So, why here, do you think?" asked Jian politely. Pooralay huffed for a moment, eyeing Gaekwar—who recalled his crippled disker! The lanky man edged off, looking nonchalant, and crouched as if on watch behind them near the tent—while he surreptitiously started repairing the workings.
___"Yeah...okay..." Poo threw threatening glances at the rest of the squad, but did appear to be calming down. "Why here. Good question. Betcha made a wunnerful kid in school. Well, once I d'cided t' find 'The Well,' I went t' Tafeltown's Orthogoni. Kinda scorched fr'm all th' fightin', but still in pretty good shape. Busiest scribblers I ever saw. Them'n th' Promulgat'rs, goin' in and out, alla th' time. Makin' copies t' help replace th' books that were lost in th' fightin', I guess. Overheard that most o' th' other Orthogonies also were hit, some o' them directly. No total losses, but...anyway," he moved along, seeing impatient scowls nearby. "I kinda wander'd in while they were busy. Figur'd they wouldn't be int'rested helpin' a..." He sighed again. "...a thug, like th' lady said—helpin' me, findin' somethin' like th' Well. Always kinda liked researchin' maps 'n such. I coulda...
borrowed...books I guess, but it just...didn't seem right...Whaddayou smilin' at, sap-boy? So, okay, I go in, mess around, avoid some people, find th' maps—best maps in th' world at an Orthogoni."
___He shook his head, staring at the ground, focused on his memories. "Never knew there were so many forests in Mikon. Th' rottin' cont'nent's thick with 'em! A million square klips at least, up in the Middlelands, and mosta th' maps o' there're older'n dirt. But first I concentrated on th' local stuff; y'know, Casio an' Lemalsamac, some of Krygy, not too far inland. Kinda pokin' around, eyes're gettin' bleary...then...bam!" he jumped. "Just like a target, right there on th' page!!" Pooralay looked at them. "I mean, I never knew it would happen just like...!" He faded off, controlling his exuberance.
___"Four rivers," he began again, more calmly, bending down to scribble on the ground. "Well, brooks, actsh'lly. They're bigger on th' maps than here, an' I can see why, now: more water here 'rigin'ly, w'd make th' brooks more swoll'n backin' pressure." After looking around at them, he then continued. "Comin' from th' four points on th' compass, down from these here mount'ns to th' north, an' from those ridges there," he pointed. "You guys came in through the pass back there, th' southeast corner; most sensible way t' bring a big group into th' area, and it's close t' where y're camped."
___"And I bet you camped on the northern side of the dell," inferred the juacuar. "You wouldn't need to watch your back as much."
___"Yeah, good guess," agreed the little man. "I'm sure you guys got maps—didn't y'see the lake right smack b'tween th' rivers?!"
___Everyone but Jian looked pointedly at Portunista, who folded her arms and tapped a booted toe.
___"Qarfax could have bribed—excuse me, requested—the mapping guild to keep his privacy; and obviously the trader maps were drawn by people who had been here. What does it matter anyway?! Let's go, before we're camping in that puppydog-tent tonight!!"
___"Testy minx," Pooralay muttered. "So, I'm thinkin', hey, a map-sized lake, outta th' way," he hurried along as Portunista spiked a glare in his direction; Seifas could hear the 'cowherd' chuckling—very quietly!—behind them. "Buncha natural signs're pointin' at it, so t' speak; it's in the middle of a wood, right? And best of all, get this—there ain't no rivers leadin' out-a th' valley! Betcha didn't notice that, eh??" He proudly grinned, as their expressions changed to something more like awe than skepticism.
___"Where's the wa-ter go-in?" he gleefully observed. "Has t' be down a hole; and lookit, what d'y'see?" He pointed behind himself, not needing to look.
___The brooks were diving into sluices, one in every Tower side—with nothing coming out.
___"Rotten blood!" Gaekwar snapped his disker back together, and rejoined the group.
___Pooralay was almost dancing in excitement. "See? See?! It's a well...in th' middle...of a wood! An' th' middle of a woods is gonna be th' closest you c'n get t' bein' at its end!" He clapped his hands together with a smack, whirling toward the center of the dell, delighted as a child who's found the treasure stashed for Stilleve Day. "And lookit, lookit, surprise, surprise! It's a WHOLE...EYE-BLINKIN'...TOWER!!!"
___And throwing back his head, he cackled and hopped and shook his fists for joy!
___"SO!" he spun again to them, with another popping clap! Their faces—even Dagon's—had become slack-jawed and wonderstruck.
___Everyone's face, that is, except for Jian's. He was standing with his hands on his hips, and grinning.
___"Who wants t' go in with me?!"

Skip JRP notes and go to next set of chapters

[JasonPratt]

Notes from the real author...

Pooooooralaaaaay.  :D

Poo kind of exists in order to be awesome and to rule all scenes completely. I often have to tamp back to keep him from running away with the plot or being too distracting while he's being awesome. :) But along with Gaekwar, he's my favorite character to write. If I had to write side novels, and if I could do so while not revealing too much about him, he's the one I'd follow.

So, how I got here with him:

Back in spring 2001, I had spent several months already composing the first Section, revising those chapters (sometimes in major ways--there was a whole other subauthor I excised for example!), and then writing the chapters in this section. I still didn't have practically any clue what I was going to do in the Tower or what would have to happen to get Portunista to Plot Point B(eginning to be Empress), but as the group approached I started taking a tally of role-playing party archetypes.

Fighters? Duh. Elite ninja-class fighter? Check. Fighter with exotic weaponry? Check, check and check. Missile shooter? Also check--not great for long distances, but we'd be cooped up in the Tower most likely for a while, so not really a problem--no need to find someone with a longbow or whatever. Magic-user? Duh. Cleric? Not applicable, since I raptured them out of the plot (for various reasons) before the story started. Bard? Jian kind of counts for that. Expendable red-shirt? Jian again! (Yes, Jian's red shirt is a Star Trek joke, but I have reasons in-story for why red-shirts would still count as a sign of expendable troops. Just no opportunity to talk about that yet.) Paladin?... um, okay, Jian kind of counts for that, too, I guess, in a way. What does that leave over? Should I try to bring in a real paladin-ish character? Am I missing anyone else? What am I going to have to worry about in the TowOH, OF COURSE, A THIEF! {headslap}

I had to have an explanation for what the thief was doing there, naturally--also I had to figure out how much he would tell them about what he was really doing there (since being a thief he wasn't likely to be utterly forthcoming). That required working out a backstory. Much to my surprise, in the space of an afternoon, I had more backstory worked out for Pooralay than for anyone else yet! (Well, any character I had had to invent for CoJ anyway.)

Since I had already had several chapters to work on everyone else's characterization, I leaned hard on establishing Pooralay for the reader as quickly as possible; but as I did so I realized I was making him sound far too uberly competent compared to everyone else: thus the genesis of Seifas' game (which also gave me an opportunity to establish what Pooralay had been doing the past few days).


The "Well At The End Of The Wood" is borrowed slightly from William Morris' The Well At The End Of The World, the title of which was so beloved by C. S. Lewis and his fellow Inklings (along with the title of another Morris novel The Wood Beyond The World)--although I gather the actual story is rather inept. I haven't read either novel, but Lewis featured a conflated nod of his own to the titles when in The Magician's Nephew an important setting is a wood between worlds with deep pools near the trees.

Working from the title, I came up with some ideas of what it would refer to--I say "ideas", plural, because I'll be implementing multiple answers throughout the series. :) The bowl-shaped location of the Tower was intended to make for a clear fighting field later while being different from expectations of finding a tower on a hill; but it didn't take much reflection to see why Pooralay would come here looking for the Well, based on its appearance on a map!


This is as good a time as any to mention how I got the name "Qarfax": originally it was "Carfax", as in "Carfax Abbey" from the novel Dracula, but a year or so after originally drafting the novel I realized there was a business with that name! So, Q for C. As in Dracula, it refers to a tower with four square faces--but obviously I'm not going to leave it only at that! In fact, originally I hadn't even planned to visit the area, so I was only thinking of the mysterious "four faces guarding" the magus Qarfax "so that he would never be caught by surprise" (the magus having designed the system in a nod to his own name, as magi often do. ;) ) Once I realized it made sense to go visit the place, yep, sure, a square-faced 'tower'!


When I originally arrived at the end of this chapter, I stopped for a few weeks, partly to go do something else for a while (helping another author), and partly because I needed to preplot the Tower events thoroughly before I continued. Then over the space of 70 days, I retyped the chapters up to now from scratch and blazed on through to the end of the book, 206Kwords. (Later trimmed twice down to 145K.) I lost about 20 lbs in the process. ;) Wish I could do that again! :lol: